The "Why So Serious? Gotham City Noir" RPG

[Batman]

Gotham City Police Department Data Files
File #06181989
Subject: Why So Serious?

Contents:

1. A Message To All And All For One

i'M sUrE yOu'Ve wOnDeReD wHeRe i'Ve bEeN

iN lIgHt oF lEtTiNg yOu dOwN aGain

i'Ve dEcIdEd tO gIvE yOu rEwArD

sOmEtHiNg tO pUt yOuR hOpEs aNd gOaLs tOwArD

a nEw wOrLd

wElCoMe tO gOtHaM.

:batty:

[Eddie Brock]

http://i166.photobucket.com/albums/u118/EBJ05/RPG%20Banners/Joker.gif

Mr. Greenlaw was once a young, idealistic lawyer. He truly believed that he could solve all of Gotham's problems with the help of the legal system. He fought corruption, and he defended improperly accused clients. As time went on, the corruption didn't stop. Eventually, it began to wear on Mr. Greenlaw. He lost that youthful optimism about the world around him. He began to realize that most of his clients were guilty. Yet he didn't stop trying to prove their 'innocence.' Now, here he was - defending a true madman. And why would he fight for such an insane man? Money talks, and the Joker has plenty of that.

So now Mr. Greenlaw watched as a psychiatrist questioned the Joker to prove his insanity. If it could be deduced that the client was mentally ill, Greenlaw could go for the insanity plea and trade time in Arkham for time in prison. Yet, deep down, Greenlaw knew that the Joker deserved to fry for all his murders. Hell, Greenlaw would love to watch the sonuvab**** die. But as long as his client kept the money coming, Greenlaw would defend him until the end.

The psychiatrist, Mr. Stevens, flips through the papers in the Joker's file. He stops every so often to examine gruesome crime scene photos. Finally, he speaks up without making eye contact. "Tell me about your childhood."

The Joker sits there calmly - a rarity. One look at the man was enough to realize that he was unstable. His hair was disheveled and dyed a hideous shade of green. His face was smeared with white makeup, and the dark mascara around his eyes gave him a ghoulish appearance. Worst of all was that big, red smile. It extended from cheek-to-cheek, and it stood out - regardless of the Joker's mood. Finally, he leans back in his chair and responds, "Can't say I recall anything."

"Nothing at all?" Stevens inquires as he looks up from the file. He instantly regrets looking into the eyes of a madman. In an effort to mask his fear and disgust, Stevens looks back down at the file, pretending to be reading intently. He clears his throat before stating, "Surely, you must remember something."

"There is one thing...do you know the story of Oedipus?"

Stevens nods. "The Greek king who killed his father and married his mother?"

"That's the one!" The Joker replies enthusiastically. He sits forward in his seat, and everything about his demeanor implies that he's now interested in relaying the story. "I remember hearing that, and I remember that I loved the irony of it all. It was so taboo, so unconventional. So one day, when I was alone with my father, I stabbed him to death with a butter knife."

"You murdered your father?" Stevens asks in shock as he examines a photo of a woman who was almost literally sliced in half.

The Joker shrugs. "That's how I remember it. You'll have to excuse my uncertainty. I'm more a man of the present!"

"How old were you when this alleged murder occurred?"

The Joker stares off into space as he tries to remember. "Oh...I couldn't have been older than, say, 11. I'm something of an early bloomer! HAHA!"

"Did you enjoy killing?"

"Would I be talking to you today if I didn't?" The Joker responds bluntly.

Ignoring the sarcasm of the Joker's response, Stevens throws out his next, and most obvious, question, "Why do you kill?"

"I'm on a mission," The Joker explains.

"From God?" Stevens asks, clearly interested at the possibility.

"God? HAHAHAHAHA! I don't worry myself with belief in some false deity."

Stevens is visibly disappointed that religion isn't a factor in this man's dementia. Nonetheless, he feels obliged to inquire, "Can you explain your mission to me, then?"

"Mankind is inherently evil. Sanity is a temporary state of mind. A mask, if you will, to hide our true carnal desires. I have made it my goal to prove that any man, no matter how apparently strong-willed, can be broken. Every single person on this planet is on the precipice of insanity - just waiting for something to push them over. I am that something."

"You wish to invoke mass hysteria?"

The Joker shakes his head. He obviously doesn't like explaining his motives to someone - especially when he knows that they'll never understand. Regardless, he humors the psychiatrist. "I wish to free everyone of society's restraints. Long ago, I broke away from normalcy...and do I look like a man who enjoys himself or what? HAHAHA!"

"Can you explain the Joker persona?"

"I tried many different facades before I became the man sitting in front of you. I killed many people in a variety of ways. But I found that none of my attempts truly got my mission across. Until one day..."

"Yes?" Stevens encourages him to continue as he puts down the file.

"One day, I just realized how FUNNY it all is! Mankind's struggle to maintain sanity...it's so pathetic that it's HILARIOUS! And here I am, one man, trying to convert the entire world to my unique philosophy - which is equally laughable! Furthermore, I realized that I needed to increase my ministry."

"How so?"

"Children. If I wanted to achieve my goals, I had to get my point across to the younger generations. How easy it would be to take a beloved children's icon and make it into something so much more! Lots of children love clowns! I had to make everyone realize that my mission wasn't depressing...it's fun!"

"You believe mass murder is 'fun?'" Stevens ask incredulously. It's clear that the psychiatrist is repulsed at this point.

"It can be...if viewed in a certain light. Unfortunately, people take everything too seriously! Why do you think I leave smiles on my victims' faces? They need to lighten up!"

"How many people would you estimate that you've killed?"

"I don't keep track. That would make this seem like work. And it's not work...it's play! HAHAHAHA!"

[SenseiofCheese]

Mr. Zsasz
Down the Drain
Part 1

I relax the muscles in my upper body as I let the drops of blood rain down over me. It never ceases to amaze, this feeling. This euphoric sense of completion that washes over me every time I release these sheep from their imprisonment.
I wasn't always like this. I wasn't always free. In fact, I was just like them; a simple drone, trudging through life looking for meaning, satisfaction or a sense of belonging, not realizing there's nothing of the sort to be found. So we keep going, isolated and alone.
But not anymore. The people of Gotham City no longer need to dread waking up in the morning. They no longer need to fear facing life on their own. I can help them. Rescue them. And that's what I'll do.

It almost took my own death before I discovered what I could do. What I was meant to do.
But as Woodrow T. Wilson once said, "Never try to murder a man who is committing suicide."

----------------

1 Year Ago

"And stay the hell out, punk!"

My body hits the cold, wet ground outside of Gotham City Casino. I'm so drunk I can hardly feel it. I exhale and pull myself to my feet. I turn and scream towards the entrance.

"You cheated me, Cobblepot, you pudgy little *****! I want my damn money back!"

I stumble backwards and crash into a garbage can. With a thud, it tumbles over and so do I. Once again I smack down onto the ground, my head hitting the curb. I think I broke something. I don't know.
I don't care.
I sit up and rub my aching head. It feels like it's going to explode. Like my eyes are going to pop out of their sockets. Like I'm bleeding through the eyes. Nose. Ears. It feels like I'm being trampled.

But then again, it always does.

I grab a hold of a nearby lightpost and heave myself up, stumbling backwards. I raise my fist and scream profanities at the door, but the doorman is long gone.
I put my hand in my pockets and drunkenly make my way down the street. Before I even realize it, I'm walking down the very street my mother told me to avoid when I was a child. I can hear shouts of profanities. Coughing. The sound and smell of vomiting. This is the very worst Gotham has to offer. The lowest of the low.

Might as well join them.

[Byrd Man]

http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t302/BatmanRPG/One%20Year%20Later/batlogo.gif

Gotham Lawns

The gray sky gives way to a light snowfall. Alfred pulls the car up to the side of the road.

“I'll wait for you here, Master Bruce.”

"Thank you, Alfred."

I slowly get out the car and pull up my coat to fight the howling wind. Two roses grasped in my hand.

It's a short ways to their place. I trudge through the snow and finally find it.

"Mom. Dad."

I place a rose on each side. One for Thomas, my father. One for my mother Martha.

This is something I've done since my return to Gotham. The anniversary of their deaths I visit. I can never undo the pain of that night, but by remembering, I will always know what it felt like.

I close my eyes for a second, the images flash...

http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t302/BatmanRPG/batman404_mazzuccelli.jpg

"No...."

My eyes snap back open.

"It's working...slowly, but the people are believing. Hope is returning. I'm making this world a better place...not a world were another eight year old will have to go through the pain again."

Sometimes I wonder, what I would have been like had my parents not died. No, don't focus on what might have been, focus on what is.

I touch my father's grave and crouch.

"It hasn't been easy. But that's why we choose the things we do. Not because they are easy, but because they are hard."

I kiss my hand and place it on my father's grave. I repeat the act with my mother's grave.

"I love both of you."

I turn to leave, marching through the snow. As much as I want to stay and dwell on my thoughts, night is slowly approaching and I have work to do....

[Eddie Brock]

http://i166.photobucket.com/albums/u118/EBJ05/RPG%20Banners/Joker.gif

"Please rise for the honorable Judge Larkin," the bailiff commands. Everyone rises to their feet, even the homicidal defendant. With a coy grin on his face, the Joker's eyes followed the Judge as he made his way up the bench. The jury stared in disgust at the repulsive appearance of the defendant. Many of their faces were painted with horror as they made preconceived notions about the kind of man that he is.

Once the judge took his seat, he announced, "You may be seated." Everyone in the courtroom sat back down - the Joker, in particular, dawdling ever slightly before returning to his chair. The Joker's gaze never broke from the judge. "This is the matter of the people of the commonwealth of Gotham City versus...The Joker?"

"That's correct, your Honor," Greenlaw responds, assuring the judge that his client was indeed named 'the Joker.'

Judge Larkin merely shook his head and continued, "Mr. Defendant, how do you plead?"

The Joker opened his mouth with a smile to respond, but Greenlaw cut him off. "Not guilty, your Honor, by reason of insanity," Greenlaw explained. His disgust for his client was palpable, but it would not get in the way of the proceedings. After all, there was a hefty sum of money waiting for Greenlaw if he saved the Joker from capital punishment - a sentence that the Joker surely deserved.

The judge nodded and marked something on his papers. After another quick moment of review, he stated, "The defense may call its first witness."

"I'd like to call Doctor Raymond Stevens to the stand, your Honor," Greenlaw announced matter-of-factly. Stevens got up from his seat and made his way to the witness stand. After Stevens was sworn in, Greenlaw asked, "Can you state your name for the jury?"

"Yes, I'm Doctor Raymond Stevens, Ph.D," he replies, adjusting the microphone while he speaks.

Greenlaw begins to pace as he poses his next question, "You spoke at length with my client. Is that correct?"

"Yes, that's correct."

"And based on your interaction, would you agree that my client is mentally unsound?" Greenlaw inquires, halting for a response.

Stevens clears his throat. "Yes, I would say that is a safe statement to make," he agrees.

"If my client were a patient of yours, how would you diagnose him?"

"Well," Stevens begins while shifting in his seat, "Your client is clearly a schizophrenic. He displays all the trademark symptoms of antisocial disorder, and there's the possibility that he has a lesser form of Dissociative Identity Disorder."

Greenlaw allows this statement to simmer in the jury's mind for a moment before continuing with his examination. "In your medical opinion, does my client realize the repercussions of his actions?"

Stevens shakes his head declaratively. "Not at all."

"And so, would you say that he is capable of distinguishing between right and wrong?" Greenlaw inquires sharply, skipping right to the point of his defense.

"What the jury, and everyone else, must understand is that there is no 'right' or 'wrong' with this man," Stevens explains. "It would take intensive psychological treatment to try and instill morals into this man - treatment which Arkham has to offer. And I think we can all agree that this is a fate better than death."

[Byrd Man]

http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t302/BatmanRPG/One%20Year%20Later/batlogo.gif


Wayne Manor
Sundown

http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t302/BatmanRPG/Begins/thb_trailer.jpg

I stare at the mask. Over my time wearing it, it's been slowly drawing me in. I'm starting to become less Bruce Wanye, and more of The Batman.....but...am I really Bruce Wanye? Is that my mask and The Batman is the real me?....

"Sir..."

Alfred snaps me out of my trance, he's across the cave, holding my body armor.

"I was unable to aquire the new model, up to your specifications. These will have to due. They're 30 percent less bullet proof as the new ones."

"Well, they'll have to do,"

"Quite so, Sir. In the mean time, may I suggest you try to not get shot?"

I smile as I turn away from Alfred, he's got the English dry wit down to a tee.

Later...

I'm dressed in my full suit, Alfred watches on as I leave the mask off and slip into The Tumbler.

"When can I expect you back?"

"When I'm done."

"I won't wait up, then."

Alfred throws me a sideways glance as he turns to leave the cave through the elevator. The Tumbler's engine roars to life as I close the cockpit and slip on my mask.


The Narrows

I sit and wait in the shadows high above the Narrows. Not too long ago, this place was torn apart by a madman thinking he was healing the world. In many ways, it was my first real test. Through out mi vigil, I have to stop myself from attacking two junkies. I only wait until the mug someone, a married couple and their young boy, that I start my stalk.

I track them all the way to a building top, where they sit and divide up the cash.

"Look, man. We should get outta here."

"Why? We got away. Ain't no uniform gonna bust his ass to track down to muggers."

"I'm just worried...."

"About what?"

"..........The Bat?"

"Ahh, the bat? What's there to be scared about? I hear he's just a idiot in a costume."

"That's not what I heard. What about Matt Byrd?"

"Ahh, don't give me that bull****. Byrd Man got loaded and took a walk off a roof. The Bat didn't have **** to do with it."

I move closer in the shadows, I can smell their sweaty stink and the ruffle of their clothes as they move.

"Look, let's just get outta here."

"Come on! Let's see The Bat get me! He ain't ****!"

That's when I strike, throwing one of my shurikens Alfred dubbed "Bata-rangs" through the air.

"Ahh!"

The one taunting drops to his knees as the shuriken bounces off his throat and knocks the wind out of him.

The other one jumps to his feet, running as fast as he can. I shoot a grappling line and it attatches to his pants leg, I pull him in and he turns to stare into the shadows.

"Who are you, man!?!?!"

I finally appear, staring at him and making sure I've put the fear of god in him.

http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t302/BatmanRPG/Begins/batman4ry1ro2.png

"I'm Batman."

[Val]

http://i9.tinypic.com/717l3s1.jpg




Selina walked out of the elevator of her building downtown Gotham, towards the main lobby,

"Good morning Ms. Kyle"the doorman greeted her with a smile as he opened the door for her.

"Good morning, James" She smiled back, "Temperature dropping on us again?" Selina said as she buttoned her overcoat.



"I heard it's gonna get colder..." He nodded.

"Better do some shopping then, a lady needs to be prepared."

Selina gave him a nod and a big grin before walking outside in the freezing Gotham weather, it was only 1PM and the weather was this bad, some snow tonight would definitely make her plans a little harder, but nothing she couldn't deal with.

She slid her hands into her coat pockets and walked down the street towards her destination, heels clicking on the ground as she did. She had to make sure the location for tonight still had the same security as it did a couple of weeks ago, surprises were welcomed every now and then but not if it stood in the way of her getting back to her apartment and into her warm bed. Tonight would have to go smoothly and fast.

[Catman_prb]

3 Years Ago

Alberto climbed out of the black sedan, and took a quick look around him at the dirty Gotham street. His gaze passed over a homeless man, sitting with his thin dog tied around his wrist by a piece of string. His gaze passed over him, but it didn't linger. His long black trenchcoat flapped around his knees as he walked into the airport lobby. A hand clasped his shoulder, and he turned to see the pointed face of his older brother, a hint of sadness masked behind his characteristic grin.

"Alberto my brother, today is the day you go out into the world and make yourself a man!" he said, like a father would to a son. Like Alberto's own father should be saying to him. Alberto smiled at his brother.

"Thankyou Mario. I thought Papa forbid everyone from coming to see me off," Alberto said, questioning him slightly. Mario gave a rougish wink.

"What Carmine Falcone don't know can't hurt him," he said. Alberto gave a sad smile.

"I'll miss you Mario,"

"And I you Alberto," Mario said, clapping his hand on his shoulder.

"Give my love to Sofia,"

"I will do. Now go make something out of yourself, and whatever you do, make sure you don't come back to this *****hole of a city," Mario said, turning to go.

A Month Ago

Inmate No.1376 never had any visitors. He had in the first few weeks of his stay, when it was thought he may recover. Now...no one. That's why the clerk at Arkham Asylum had been so suprised that Carmine Falcone had a visitor approved by the powers that be. A warden led the man, who wore sunglasses and a smart black suit, to Falcone's cell.

Carmine Falcone sat huddled in a corner of his padded cell, strapped into his straight-jacket. A thin line of drool hung down his mouth.

"The scarecrow..." he muttered. It was the only thing he could say now. People had reported that he said that sentence in his sleep, over and over again. The man in the shades walked over to him, looked him deep in the eyes, then pulled out a pistol and put it to his temple. The warden didn't even flinch.

"Sal Maroni sent me," the man said, and pulled the trigger.
*
Alberto sat in his plush oxford apartment reading the financial times over a morning coffee. He had graduated from his law degree a few weeks ago, though none of his relatives were there to see it. He hardly had any contact with them any more. Maybe it was better that way. The Falcone family was notorious for its illegal acts, so a successful lawyer would be best to steer clear of them.

Still...they were family. What could you do?

And then the phone rang. Alberto knew it was a member of his family, it was just too odd. He picked up the receiver.

"Alberto?"

"Hey Sofia, I was just thinking of - "

"Papa's dead," she stated. Alberto dropped the reciever.

[Harlekin]

http://img139.imageshack.us/img139/838/bannerua8.gif

“A man that doesn't spend time with his family can never be a real man.”
~ The Godfather (1972)

“Yo Vincent, we got a Sopranos marathon over at Burke’s, we could use your ‘expertise’,” Detective Morgan taunted Del Arrazio as he walked onto the Major Crimes floor “You should come. Tell us all about how the famiglia works.”
“Screw you Morgan.”
“Yeah yeah, it’s not like you’re ‘connected’ are you?”
“Could you shut up, Morgan? I’ve got a case I need to close. Last I checked, you still had five names in red yourself.”
“Way to be a prick, Del Arrazio.”

Morgan mumbled a few more curse words to himself as he walks away. Detective Sergeant Vincent Del Arrazio did the same as he went over the files again. For days now, the Finnegan case was kicking his ass. In fact Del Arrazio hadn’t gotten any further since starting first shift this morning. Sitting across from him was his partner, Detective Joely Bartlett, looking at him amused. After a few minutes of the staring, he finally looked up at her.

“What?”
“Just funny.”
“What’s funny?”
“You.”
“Not in the mood, Joely.”
“Then get in the mood.”
“What do you want?”
“You know how you’re always crying about those rumours about your ‘connections’?” she emphasized the word connections by air quoting.
“I don’t ‘cry’ about that,” he replied, imitating the gesture.
“You ever think about letting up? Going over to Burke and watching that ridiculous show with the guys?”
“All I’d get would be agita. Not every Italian-American has a connection to the mob, you know.”
“I know, I know.”
“Then what are you trying to say?”
“That you’re not dispelling any rumours this way.”

Vincent grumbled for a moment as he tried to return his attention to the case files.

“By the way, I think the butler did it.”

Del Arrazio looked at his partner stunned.

“What are you talking about now, Bartlett?”
“Finnegan. He had a butler. Looks like he had an affair with Finnegan’s wife. Finnegan finds out, fires butler, forbids wife from ever seeing the guy again. Instant motive right there.”
“What? Where’d you get that from?”
“Here,” she said as she pointed out the paragraph in the case file.
“You’re a genius, anyone ever tell you that?”
“Yeah, yeah. Let’s go nail the bastard.”

[Eddie Brock]

http://i166.photobucket.com/albums/u118/EBJ05/RPG%20Banners/Joker.gif

As fate would have it, it's the prosecution's turn to defend their case. And none other than the Clown Prince of Crime himself is called the stand. The room collectively knew that this wasn't going to end well. The silence was deafening as the defendant made his way to the bailiff.

"Please place your right hand over your heart and your other hand on this Bible," the bailiff commands. The courtroom stares in suspense as they wait for the Joker's next move. Surprisingly, the Joker obliges - although there is an obviously overdramatic nature to the way in which he clutches his own chest. Without saying a word, it's still evident that the Joker is mocking the judicial system. "Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth - so help you God?"

"God can't help me," the Joker responds defiantly, "Any more than He can help you."

"That's enough," the judge warns irritably. He, least of all, is not amused by the defendant's antics. "Take your seat."

Rather than push another of Judge Larkin's buttons, the Joker follows instructions and sits casually at the witness stand. He is visibly excited to begin testifying.

"Tell me," the prosecutor begins calmly, "Do you know your real name?"

"It's Joseph," the defendant explains.

The prosecutor spins to look at the Joker. It's clear that he wasn't expecting a response other than 'no' or something witty. "Joseph?" he repeated as if he never heard the name before.

The Joker laughed. But it was different. This was a casual laugh. There was nothing sinister or maniacal about it. For a moment, the Joker sounded like a relatively normal guy. "Oh please...only my mother calls me 'Joseph.' I much prefer Joe."

"Joe?" the prosecutor says aloud. He's completely bewildered by the fact that the Joker is answering him honestly and seriously. Regaining his composure, he asks, "Do you remember your last name?"

"Kerr," the Joker nods. He smiles pleasantly.

"Joe Kerr," the prosecutor announces quietly to himself. But once he hears the two names together, he instantly hangs his head in shame. He had been conned by a killer clown. His revelation was reassuring by the uncontrollable fits of laughter coming from the witness stand. "S***."

"Oh, that was fun," the Joker admits while pretending to wipe a tear out of his eye. "You legal types are so gullible! Thanks for the laugh!"

Determined to redeem himself, the prosecutor goes back on the offensive. "Did killing all those people give you a laugh, too?" he asks sharply with contempt hanging in his tone. He storms over to his desk and grabs a file, flipping through it angrily. "Let's take last week, for instance - the crime that got you caught. You went on a sadistic killing spree in a hotel. In the course of about an hour, you killed seven guests, a room service attendant, and a bellboy."

The Joker frowns. "What about the valet? I remember killing a valet driver, too."

The prosecutor flips frantically through his papers. After an impromptu search of his facts, he has a stern, confused look on his face. "There's nothing in here about killing a valet driver," he explains.

"Oh, don't tell me that you didn't find him yet," the Joker replies. The look of terror on everyone's faces affirms this. "HAHAHAHA! That's rich! Man, I want to be there when you find his body!"

The prosecutor mutters some not-so-subtle profanities under his breath. This case wasn't looking good. First of all, everyone know this guy was insane. But it was the prosecutor's job to get him put down regardless. And that wasn't seeming quite possible.

[Oh Snap!]

IC: Harvey Bullock

Gotham is a complicated place, the only thing more complicated than Gotham are the people that live in it; the contrast between the two classes is almost unbelievable, you have the Bruce Waynes of the world and then the rest of us Average Joes who just barely scrape through and just manage to put food on the table.

There was only thing that united Gotham.. Football.

The entirety of MCU (Major Crimes Unit) was in the squad room, staring at the small television in the corner, as the whistled sounded the officers erupted into cheers and hugs all around; there were even a few tears, but you wouldn't understand unless you were a Gothamite, you wouldn't know what these people live and breath.

"Who would of thought it, eh?"

A rather handsome man with thin black hair and a chiselled jaw appeared on the television, he undid his tie and untucked his shirt, throwing his tie in the air and swinging his jacket over his head a few times before letting it fly into the stands.

"It's been fifteen years since I last saw The Gotham Knights beat The Metropolis Planets.."

George Tankerton, the anchorman for Gotham's number one news channel, smiled broadley as he looked at all of the fans in the crowd screaming with jubilance, he saw the girlfriends, mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters and just about every Gotham fan in the crowd rush onto the field just to get to touch their heroes, to speak to them, to revel in their glory.

"But who would have thought we'd ever do it in such fashion? A week ago, the heart of every single Knights fan across the country sank as they heard the news, we had been drawn against our oldest and fiercest rivals; who, coincidentally, we hadn't beat for a decade and a half. The Planets hadn't lost a game all season, but Gotham hadn't won a game all season, it was the miss-match of the century. Who could have ever thought that the biggest David and Goliath match ever to happen on American soil could turn into an upset of biblical proportions?"

Their were a few whistles from the MCU staff as a man ran towards Tankerton, grabbed him by the collar and kissed him right on the lips passionately, George smiled slightly and chuckled awkwardly.

"Heck, you know what, let's speak to MVP and Captain Kenny Miller to see what he has to say on the subject"

He walked over to the captain, who was busy holding up the game ball and cuddling up to his girlfriend, but smiled and looked absolutely amazed as he saw Tankerton walk towards him; he rushed towards him and bear hugged him, lifting him high into the air before putting him down and shaking his head in disbelief.

"You're George Tankerton!"

"That's right Kenny, I am, and you're Kenny Miller.. Captain and Quarterback of The Gotham Knights, what can you tell us about what was going through your mind at half-time?"

"Well, we were down 24-0 by half-time, and I knew that if we didn't lift our game a little we'd be going home, we'd be out of the competition and going home losers; we'd come too far for that, we'd come worked too hard for it.. So I got the guys in, I had a word with them."

There was a large cheer from the officers in MCU as Kenny Miller came on screen, he was something of a working class hero around here, he was the biggest sucess story since the Waynes and modest as hell, which was why the people loved him.

"Could you tell us what you said, Kenny?"

"I said to them.. We're going to run out on that field, and the next 30 minutes is going to define the rest of our lives, the next 30 minutes is the difference between living and dying, the next 30 minutes will decide whether we make something of our lives or are just another statistic, just another failure from Gotham. I told them we'd made it this far, that we'd worked our asses off and it was too late to turn back now; that we were brothers in arms, we might not share the same blood, we might not even like each other, but we'd made it this far regardless of the colour of our skins, how rich we were, where our parents were from, what language we spoke, how smart we were.. I.. We had to do it for Gotham, for the people of Gotham. We've been through a lot as of late, and I think it's time that we show the Gothamites out there that they can amount to something, that they can make something of their lives.."

There were some loud clapping from the large crowd that had now gathered in the squad room, which slowly died down as Tankerton began talking again.

"And it worked.. 24-27.. How does it feel to have thrown the single most important touchdown in the Gotham Knight's lengthy history?"

"It's a team sport, I don't claim this victory as my own at all, we all contributed, each and every one of us. Each and every Gotham Knight fan out there, even the ones that don't even like football, even the ones that didn't know we existed.. We did it for them, we did it with them, we just hope that today's the start of something new for our city.."

Tankerton smiled, there was some rousing applause from the crowd, which slowly fell silent as Kenny Miller took his girlfriend by the hand, making sure she was infront of the camera as he did so.

He dropped to one knee.

"Caroline Bailey, you're my world.. Will you marry me?"

She screamed loudly, jumping into his arms and kissing him passionately.

"Yes! Yes! Yes!"

The crowd went wild, as the policemen in the precinct, they might not admit it, but even the old warhorses in the GCPD had hearts; they felt something they hadn't felt something for a long time, true love, it made them sentimental for a second, before snapping into their senses and acting indifferent towards it.

Tankerton turnt towards the camera one final time, the elated husband and wife to be in the background, he looked straight into the lens and began his final monologue.

"Well, folks.. tonight our Knights have shown us what we're all capable of, that Gotham isn't going down with a fight, that-"

Miller lifted his girlfriend high into the air, there was a deafening bang and it took Tankerton a few moments to realise what had happened over the noise of the crowd, he heard the screams of the wife to be behind him and turnt round.

On the floor lay Kenny Miller, a bullet through his head, his young fiance covered in blood. She screamed hysterically, it took the crowd a few seconds to realise what had happened, but as soon as they did so, they screamed at the top of their voices and ran for their lifes; many jumped from the stands to help, but it was too late.

"He's dead.. H.. Stop rolling dammit!"

"But G-"

Tankerton, whom was crouched over the young quarterback, trying to see if he still had a pulse, jumped to his feet and smacked the camera out of the camera-man's hand. There was a final glimpse of Miller, who hauntingly laid with half his head blown off, staring straight into the camera.

MCU, which had been stunned in silence, jumped into life and many detectives jumped to claim the case, to take 'dibs' on it.

A single, large figure kicked open the squad doors and the rest of the officers fell silent.

"This one's mine."

Nobody argued, Kenny Miller's father used to be a police officer, Harvey Bullock had been his partner for several years.. They all knew without it being said that Bullock would get the job done, that even if he didn't have the evidence to put the shooter down, he'd make sure he got what he deserved.

Immoral? Maybe, but that was Harvey.

Nobody could say a word, compared to them, Harvey was the cleanest cop on the force, except Gordon that is.

"Who the hell went and made you God, Bullock?"

A young Timmy Rourke, who'd only just made detective, stepped forward and called out Bullock, who'd turnt to leave, but stood still as he heard the words escape from Rourke's lips.

With a speed that defied his size, he spun round, pulled his gun from his holster and pressed it against Rourke's head, slamming his head against a table as he did so.

"Not so talkative now, eh?"

Marcus Driver stepped through the crowd, placing his hand on Bullock's shoulder and whispering into his ear quietly, Harvey sighed and let go of Rouke, storming out of the squad room. There was silence for a few minutes, as everybody stared at Rourke awkwardly, he looked at them and shrugged, confused.

"What'd I do?"

[Gallagher]

Harvey Dent

I Believe in Harvey Dent. Part I

I feel a rush as the crowd roars. Adrenaline pumps through my veins as I stand up to the podium in front of a gathering of supporters, well wishers and curious passers by.

“Citizens of Gotham…” I begin. “My friends, neighbors and fellow man. I come before you today, as one of you, as a man tired of the harsh realities this city faces everyday. This city is dying; it’s dying of a disease. This disease can be seen all around, when you walk down the street and see a man bleeding to death on the sidewalk, when you walk into a store only to see it robbed, when parents are gunned down in front of their children, you see it. This disease is crime. It has been untreated long enough but let me tell you that today the cure has been found. That cure, my fellow Gothamites… Is Harvey Dent.”

The crowd roars again and applause begins. I raise my hand to quieten the reaction. I wasn’t done wowing the people yet. “So when the time comes, and the people must decide, remember, vote for Harvey Dent, defender of Gotham. Together we can make this city the shining example it used to be. I believe it and deep down so do you. I believe in Gotham City.”

***

"That went well." I tell my PA confidently as I enter the back of a sleek black sedan.

"Figures show you way above the competition Mr. Dent, you could be running for mayor and get these kind of numbers. It seems they see you as a man of the people. By the way, 'defender of Gotham'? Nice touch, that wasn't in the notes we laid out for you." I smile and look over to the young lady at my side.

"Well my dear, you don't get to were I am today by reading from a piece of paper."

[Harlekin]

http://img139.imageshack.us/img139/838/bannerua8.gif

“A man that doesn't spend time with his family can never be a real man.”
~ The Godfather (1972)

“You just pissed off Harvey Bullock, kiddo. I’d pack your bags if I were you,” Del Arrazio replied as he took his coat and looked towards his partner, Joely Bartlett. She was smiling, just like him. The rookie obviously had a lot to learn, and odds are he’d be out before he’d learn. Cops didn’t last long in Gotham, especially honest cops. Timmy Rourke would have to prove himself true police.

“Good luck, Bullock,” Joely whispered as she and Vincent walked out of the squad room as well. Bullock was going to have quite a case on his hands, and there’d be a lot of people, detectives and civilians, that would be getting in the way. Right now though, Del Arrazio and Bartlett had to go and catch themselves their own killer.

[Byrd Man]

http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t302/BatmanRPG/One%20Year%20Later/batlogo.gif


The East End
1 A.M.

http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t302/BatmanRPG/Begins/BATMAN_BEGINS20-20107.jpg

I thought that Carmine Falcone's imprisonment would stop all organized crime in Gotham down to a trickle. Instead, if opend up a can of worms. In one corner, we have what's left of Falcone's empire, in the other corners are Sal Maroni and Rupert Thorne, both of of whom have been lost in Flacone's shadow.

I'm here tonight to try to catch Thorne in the act. Word is, he's got some heavy arms coming in on the docks. I highly dobut Thorne will make the same mistake Flacone did and show up tonight, none of the leaders have been out on the job since I started my patrols.

"Come on. Let's get outta here as quickly as possible."

I sweep through the shadows, stalking the two thugs from high above as they move towards three massive crates on the side of the docks. One of them walks as the other drives a forklift.

"Where's Thorne getting this stuff from, anyway?"

"Hey, man. The less I know about what he does, the less likely I am to get whacked."

The one driving the forklift connects with one of the crates, he's starting to lift the crate when I swoop out of the shadows, gliding on my rigid cape like a monster straight from hell.

http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t302/BatmanRPG/Begins/BATMAN_BEGINS20-20056.jpg


"Ahh!"

I land, in the blink of an eye I swing my leg up, knocking the one operating the forklift off his seat and onto the dock. His friend trys to get away, I quickly grab him by the collar and stare at him with pure hatred.

"What are you doing here?!?!"

"My boss told me to pick up these crates!"

"What's in them?!?!"

"I don't know! Thorne never told me! I don't wanna know."

I don't think he's lying. The less Thorne's monkeys know, the better.

"Lemme go! Please!"

I swiftly head butt him, he loses consciousness and falls to the ground.

I move over to the crates and rip open the top. AK-47's and AR-15's are stacked up inside. My eyes go to something sitting on top of one of the assault rifles.....



http://img442.imageshack.us/img442/8531/penguinmeqj4.jpg

A stuffed penguin. Either it's a gift...or a calling card.

[Catman_prb]

Alberto sat in the library of the Falcone Mansion. The room was huge, and probably stored more books than the Gotham State Library itself. He'd loved this place as a child, when he was either running through it with his two siblings, or trying to bug his mother into reading stories to him. She never had. Both of his parents had never had any time for him. They were almost more focused on Mario and Sofia, the light of their lives.

Alberto strolled along an aisle of books, looking at each cover, whilst he waited for the meeting to finish. Eventually he picked out a volume entitled The Falcones : A Family History. He sat down in one of the comfy arm chairs, and opened it, before a high voice rang through the silence.

"Put it down Alberto," the voice called. Alberto looked up, and saw his mother standing and looking at him, her grey hair tied back in a bun.

"Hello mother. So father didn't want you to listen to the will either?" he asked, his voice slightly hoarse.

"Apparantley he felt it would...cause undue anugish," she said, and Alberto thought he could hear a slight break in her normal form of the ice queen. Alberto stepped forward.

"Don't," she said, batting his arm away. She looked ready to burst into tears, when the door to the study cracked open. Alberto lost sight of his mother in the crowd that exited. Mario looked at him, but then walked straight past him. Alberto grabbed the elbow of the last person that he knew, Sofia.

"Let go," she mumbled. Alberto kept his grip firm.

"What did it say? Who's in charge now?"

"No one,"

"What?"

"The old bastard left us to fight it out amongst ourselves. Still he did leave one thing..."

"What's that?"

"He left you the Black Ace Bar. And he requested that you employ Johnny Vito as barman," she said flatly. Alberto's jaw dropped. Sofia walked away quickly. The Black Ace...the one legitimate business in the Falcone Empire...And Carmine had left the twins to fight over the family business itself...this wasn't going to end well.

[SenseiofCheese]

Mr. Zsasz
Down the Drain
Part 2


The slums of Gotham City are filthy, more so than the city itself. Corruption, deceit, murder and blood run through every vein of the city, from top to bottom.
And this....this is the bottom.

When I was young, I was taught never to veer into this part of the city. And that if, by any chance, I were to find myself walking through, I was to run not walk.
But as I slowly make my way down the dirt-ridden street, I can see that these wretches that lie on in puddles of their own urine and feces are no different than the "higher-ups" of Gotham. Sure, they may wear tattered clothes and smell like alcohol and vomit but they're no different.
They're all the same.

I keep walking until the moans and begs of the homeless fade into the everyday bustle of the city. I look around and find myself alone. Surrounded by nothing but decrepit apartment buildings and wet cement, I decide this is as good a place as any.
I grab the pistol in the pocket of my jacket and take it out. I don't really know what I had planned on doing with it. God knows I wanted to use it on that fat bastard Cobblepot, but before I could reach for it his bodyguard threw me out.
It would have been nice to take him down with me.

I turn the weapon in my hand. The moonlight reflects off the surface as I touch the cold barrel. I look up and realize I know this place.
God, what was it called again?
Something about ...and it comes to me.

"Crime Alley..." the name escapes in a whisper.

I close my eyes and put the gun in my mouth.

[Harlekin]

http://img139.imageshack.us/img139/838/bannerua8.gif

“A man that doesn't spend time with his family can never be a real man.”
~ The Godfather (1972)

“So what do you think of The Sopranos anyway?” Detective Joely Bartlett asked as she and her partner Vincent Del Arrazio drove through the streets of Gotham. They were on their way to the last known address of Jeeves P. Weathersome, the butler and murderer of James Finnegan.
“Could you give it a rest Jo?” Del Arrazio replied, still sore from Morgan’s taunting in the squad room.
“I’m just saying, what do you think of the show?”
“I think the show’s been off for a year and people should give it a rest already.”
“See the ending yet?”

Del Arrazio hesitated for a moment.

“Of course.”
“What did you think?”
“Hated it.”
“Anyone ever tell you you’re a very negative person?”
“All the goddamn time.”
“Good. I think that’s the place right there,” she said, pointing to a rather fancy, but not well-kept house “Looks like he hasn’t been home for a while.”
“Didn’t need to while living at the Finnegan’s,” Del Arrazio replied, parking the car “Hope he wasn’t expecting any visitors.”
“Except us?”
“Especially us.”

[Oh Snap!]

IC: Harvey Bullock

"Well, well, well.. can't say I'm suprised they sent your ugly mug down here, Bullock"

Calvin James Miller, the head coach of the Gotham Knights sat with his head in his hands, he lifted his head up to acknowledge Harvey slightly before sinking back down. As he wiped away the tears from his eyes, Harvey awkwardly sat down beside him, taking off his hat and placing it underneath his arm.

"It's been a while CJ.."

"Can you blame me? I couldn't deal with having to see boys like Kenny sprawled out on the floor like that, with half their head sprayed across a football field. I couldn't deal with it then, and I can't deal with it now.. Not when it's my own son"

Harvey sighed, he stood up and leaned against the wall that overlooked the pitch, the entire area was cordoned off but big crowds were all over the place, some of the players were still stunned beyond words, sobbing to themselves.

"I'm sorry, Calvin.. You know I loved your boy like he was my own, I'm going to get the bastard that did this, you know I will"

The loss of his son had shook his father so badly, Calvin stood up and grabbed Bullock by his collar and shouted in his face as tears rolled down his cheeks.

"What difference is it going to make whether you put the creeps that did this behind bars or not? MY SON IS DEAD. He's gone.."

Were it any other man, or any other circumstance, Bullock would have retaliated, but for once he used his discretion and said quietly whilst looking at his old friend sincerely.

"Forty-eight hours"

CJ looked confused, his wrinkled brow crumpled and a large frown appeared on his face.

"What?"

He let go of Harvey, who straightened out his jacket and said quietly again.

"I'll bring you the bastard's head in forty-eight hours"

CJ sighed and shook his head, Bullock was always the same, he took bribes and planted evidence, he acted as if he somehow he was on a higher pedestal then the rest of the men and women in the GCPD, but he wasn't; he was as dirty as the rest of them, especially after the loss of his wife and daughter, especially now that his only love was for the bottle.

"You just don't get it, do you Harvey?"

Harvey turnt away, picked up his hat and placed it on his head, scanning the crime scene as he did so for clues; his gut instinct told him that the killer was still in the stadium, that there as more than met the eye than it seemed.

"Nothing can bring him back.."

Harvey stepped down from the bleachers where the broken father stood, took a cigar from his pocket and put it in his mouth.

"Maybe I don't, what I do know though.. is that whoever's done this is going to pay"

It was time to get to work.

[Eddie Brock]

http://i166.photobucket.com/albums/u118/EBJ05/RPG%20Banners/Joker.gif

The moment of truth comes - time for sentencing. Hopes are low for the prosecution. Their only shot is to hope that the jury thinks that the defendant was faking his insanity. If so, then he must be the best actor in the world - which very well may be the case. Nonetheless, the general feeling is that they have a snowball's chance in Hell of getting this guy convicted.

"Will the defendant please rise?" the judge orders rather lazily. He absent-mindedly fiddles with his gavel. The Joker stands up as the last of the jury files in to their seats. Once ready, Judge Larkin asks, "Mr. Foreman, has the jury reached a verdict?"

The Foreman of the jury stands up. His hands are shaking. He glances at the Joker briefly before stammering, "We have, your Honor."

"What say you?"

"In the matter of People v. Joker, on the counts of murder in the first degree, we find the defendant not guilty by reason of insanity," he explains grimly. After another look at the Joker, the Foreman takes his seat.

The judge grimaces. Like the prosecution, this was not the verdict he was hoping for. "Mr. Defendant, you have been found not guilty of the charges for which you were accused..."

The Joker gives a little thumbs-up sign to the jury.

"However, due to the heinous nature of these crimes and your apparent mental state, I am requiring you to undergo intense psychiatric treatment at the Elizabeth Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane until it is decided that you are mentally stable enough to return to society," Judge Larkin explains, "At which point, you will be released and cleared of all charges. Members of the jury, your duty with the commonwealth of Gotham City is fulfilled. You are free to go."

Hordes of people begin to leave the courtroom in distress. A self-confessed serial killer has just evaded jail time. Now, he will spent the next portion of his life in an asylum - where his lackeys can easily free him. The world holds its breath until the time when the Joker escapes and continues his terror.

"God bless the legal system."

[Watchman]

As a kid I used to watch those old detective movies. You know, The Big Heat, The Maltese Falcon, The Big Sleep, movies like those. People think being a private detective is like being Sam Spade. Being cool and busting open the cases. Well let me tell you something this people haven't been to Gotham. Being a private detective is not cool. It's not like the movies. The hero doesn't always win. In fact the hero usually loses.

"What the hell do you want Corrigan?" What was suppose to a calm night picking up groceries has turned sour real fast. What a I did to be spending time with the one of the most crooked cops on the force, God I'm sorry.

"Well Sammy once again you stuck your nose in a place where it shouldn't have been."

"I have no idea what you are talking about." I say as calmly as possible.

"I think you damn well know, Bradley."

"Jesus Christ, Corrigan, it was a seventeen year old girl. They killed a seventeen year old girl and you are just going to let this happen. What kind of animal are you?" The blow hits the side of my head. I instantly fall to the ground throwing the brown paper bag into the air. My ear is ringing and I feel a warm liquid flow down the side of my head. My hand covers the wound as Corrigan puts his flashlight away.

"That's enough talk from you, old man. Like I said it would be for the best for you to stay out of it. It's Gotham, this is a very dangerous place. People go missing everyday." He and his partner turn around, snickering under their breath. "Remember Slam it's a very dangerous city." They both hop into the cop car and speed off.

I'm left in a pool of milk, blood, and eggs. I get up brushing my self off, at least I saved the bread. Stumbling into the apartment I notice that there is one message from my son saying that he has some files for me and my old friends back at the station say hi. Putting the surviving bread away I start reading today's paper. Another sighting of the Bat-Man.

This city is changing, I don't know if that is a good or bad thing. This guy dresses up like a bat and takes down one the biggest crime boss in the city. Then there are others but hopefully these are just rumors. One rumor is of a hooded manic who could have been responsible for the attack on the narrows. Then there is the clown. In my time in the city I haven't seen anything like this. My son showed me the crime scene photos. Jesus, this city is turning into a mad house.

Again, my attention turns toward the photo of the girl. What was that last line?

"Forget it, Slam. It's Gotham."

[Byrd Man]

http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t302/BatmanRPG/One%20Year%20Later/batlogo.gif


The Cave
Dawn

"Master Bruce?"

I look up from the cave's recent addition, a brand new computer that has the ablit to hack all the GCPD, FBI, and every goverment agency in America's files, at Alfred.

"How long have you been standing there?"

"For about ten minutes."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

Alfred shrugs his shoulders as he walks towards me with a tray full of breakfast food.

"I didn't want to intrude. Besides, you seem to be having fun."

I ignore his comments, instead focusing on the files on the computer infront of me.

"Care for some bacon, sir?"

"......."

"Eggs?"

"......"

"I guess I'm off to give these to the dogs..."

I look over at Alfred long enough to see him pick up the tray of food and turn away from me.

"Don't forget, you have a meeting this morning..."

I look up, puzzled.

"With who?"

"Harvey Dent. He's running for District Attorney, remember?"

I nod as I finally tear my eyes away from the computer screen.

"Thank you for the heads up. I should get ready."

I leave the stuffed penguin on the computer and let ir keep on searching for related evidence in all the goverment databanks.

"Care for some breakfast, sir?"

Alfred holds the tray under my nose as I walk past him towards the elevator.

"No thanks. I'm not hungry."

Alfred slumps his shoulders slightly as he joins me on the elevator to the mansion.

I'm already preparing to but on another mask, this one isn't as terrifying. If anything, it lulls people into a sense of false security. That mask if of Bruce Wayne: Playboy and party animal extraordinaire.

[batman11]

http://img176.imageshack.us/img176/7263/maronisigul5.jpg

"So...as you...can...umm...see...Mr. Maroni...if we go ahead with this tactic...we will...uhh...have...supreme control of...Ggggg.....Gotham."

"Tell me Mr. Morris, are you nervous at all?"

"Just...just a little bit Mr. Maroni."

Sal Maroni looked across the room at Mr. Morris, smiling warmly. He was wearing an extremely expensive suit, accompanied by a magnificent golden tie, and a dazzling navy dress shirt.

"Don't be, Mr. Morris. You have nothing to fear."

"Thhh...thank you sir. Sss...ss..so, do you like my idea? Ddd...do you believe it possible to successfully complete it?"

"Well it's hard to say Mr. Morris. Ever since the fall of Carmine Falcone, I've been searching for several ways, tactics and tools to regain the top. Although we clearly have the edge here, you never know who might step up and try to take us down. We need new and improved methods to ensure a safe and successful future here in Gotham."

"You didn't answer my question. Dddd...did you like it or not?"

"Excuse me?"

Maroni's face turned beat red, however he quickly relaxed, trying to cover up the anger. Although returning to his original shade, not even his best of efforts could prevent the obvious, pulsating vein under his throat.

"So sorry, I didn't mean to take that tone..."

"Mr. Morris, would you follow me please?"

"Wwww....why?"

"Come now Mr. Morris, I told you there is nothing to fear. I just want you to meet someone. You will be working together on the operation that you have so graciously presented to me today."

"You've...you've given me the job? You like it?"

"Congratulations Mr. Morris. You've definitely earned it."

Mr. Morris, a mousy looking man in a tattered gray suit, wiped his brow and let out a low sigh.

"Oh thank you Mr. Maroni, thank you! For a moment there, I though you were going to kill me."

Mr. Morris chuckled as he wiped his brow again. Maroni smiled at him and laughed as well.

"Kill you? Kill you? Oh dear Mr. Morris," Maroni said, as he held the door open for Mr. Morris,
"no, no, no. I was just going to break your legs."

Mr. Morris turned around to find himself facing a pistol, dead on in the face.

"But I like your idea much better."

BOOM!

Maroni, holstered his pistol and snapped his fingers.

"Bobby, come here. Take Mr. Morris out back, chop him up, and make sure the pieces don't find their way back together."

"Yes boss."

"Oh and Bobby, I need you to round everyone up. Let them know we're having a meeting tonight. If they miss it they die, understand?"

Bobby nodded, and grabbed the dead Mr. Morris by the arm. As he dragged him out the back door, Maroni walked back into the conference room. He sat at the head of the table, and poured himself a scotch.

"Things have gotta change around here."

[Batman]

IC: James Gordon

http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t302/DCMarvelRPG/Supporting%20Characters/Jim%20Gordon/Batman2-1.jpg

It's about four in the morning by the time I make it to the scene. Merkel was the officer on duty, but somehow, I had to be the one dragged out of bed to handle it. If I said I were surprised, I'd be classified a liar... but then again, I've been classified worse. Those thoughts leave my mind the minute I get out of the sedan. Lingering bouts of anger that I've been trying to turn into apologies for last night's fight with Barbara. Nothing to take, when you're on the job. Especially this one.

I still can't get my mind off that call, though. It was from Guiztevez, who's always been a bit of a hardshell around the office. Hard to read, even harder to trust. Some of the boys in Homicide claimed that he was taking bribes from the local church, a jurisdiction Loeb assigned him to personally. More to the point, Guiztevez was always a tough son of a gun. But his tone, when he spoke to me over the phone, well...

Something tells me he's not going to be sleeping well, in the coming weeks.

I do all I can to keep myself from rushing up the steps of the 23 Cooke avenue apartments, as the coffee Barbara harshly made for me seeps down my throat. Even it's alarming heat does little to calm the frigid pit of my stomach. And I don't even know what the hell I'm rushing into, yet. But I know it's bad. And for a Gotham cop to know it's bad, you know it has to be something pretty unorthidoxed.

"Where's Guiztevez?", is the first thing I ask Pratt, entering the hall.

"Took a leave of abscence, Lieutenent. Medical reasons.", He responds, midway through writing up his report.

"Leave of abscence?"

"Couldn't stop himself from throwin' up, I guess.", He shrugs back.

I look to the open doorway of the apartment. Even from here, the smell of a fresh corpse is evident. Almost makes me want to turn back, but I know I'm not the first to consider that. If I don't go in there, nobody's going to be able to identify the poor soul lying within. With a sneer, I hand Pratt my coffee, forgetting to care if it burns his grip. He gives a silent yelp, as I look back.

"That's so you'll stay here until I get back,", I order. "The last thing I want is Loeb asking questions that no one in the department can answer."

Pratt gives me a look, but not for long. He knows how many things I could report him on from the past week alone. A slight smile forms on my mouth, as I push the door open. But as soon as I enter, that all but fades. Mother of God.

It isn't so much the strench, anymore, as it is the look on the face. Or lack, thereof. I had been told the victim had been mutilated beyond physical repair, but this? My god, this city's going to go crazy if we don't identify the killer soon. Because I know for damn sure that this'll spread like a virus to the press, if Merkel was assigned to this.

As I survey the scene, a forensics officer continues taking pictures. It takes me a full minute to even remember that he's even there. I just can't take my eyes off of the victim. I've survived a war, plenty of hostage situations, and going on my thirtieth year on the Gotham force. But this little "work of art", using the term lightly, actually sent a chill up my spine. All I can think is... why here? Why in the city where my little boy and my little girl have to endure growing up, of all places?

"What happened?", is all I can muster up for a question, even though I've considered at least ten.

"Multiple lacerations around the thorax, at least sixty seven identified stab wounds through the cornial opening, a 45 inch gash both through and from the inner skull...", The photographer reads off, as if he'll never forget those details. "To put it lightly, Lieutent Gordon, this takes the cake off of anything I've seen."

"What about any fingerprints? Enterings? Anything like that?"

"Afraid not, sir.", He responds. "It was a skilled job. The only thing we managed to collect was a few shavings off the blade of the knife."

"Then it was just a stabbing.", I murmur.

"You seem surprised."

"In the middle of a season of gun smugglers? Very.", I answer. "What about those samples you talked about? Where are they now?"

"Already sent them down to the lab.", He notes. "I'll have my superiors fax the results to your office by tommorow."

"Good."

I turn around, literally forcing myself to look away, heading for the door.

"It might be a good idea to send a report of this to the Commisioner, on your way out. I'd ask one of my fellow officers, but..."

"Understood, Lieutenent.", He finishes, as I exit the room.

Dammit. Damn it all, we're dealing with a mob seige after the death of Carmine Falcone, the smugglers, and that Joker character finally stands trial, and now this? It was foolish for any of us to think it'd ever get better this soon, after the Roman's downfall. But I can't blame anyone. After the incident in the Narrows, it seemed like things could only look up from that moment. Not worse. Not like this.

I see Pratt still loitering in the hallway, by the time I make it back outside. He's poured my coffee all over the now damp rug that lies between the hall and the exit. I'd take him up on contaminating a crime scene, but we both know he'd be off the hook within a week. Probably why he did it... just to prove that much. I won't give him the benefit.

"Merkel get a look at that?", I ask, ignoring the obvious.

"Hmm? Oh, Merkel. Nah, nobody else went in there but forensics. Too afraid of the stench alone.", He shrugs off.

So it wasn't an inside job or a cover up. I don't know whether that makes me feel better or worse.

"Keep it that way. I don't want it disappearing on the way to the morgue.", I mention, making my way towards the exit. "And before you ask what any of the boys would do with it, trust me. You don't want to know."

Pratt's face goes pale as a ghost, as I step over the rug. Fitting revenge for the coffee, and the lunch hour I'm going to have to take before I can get another, on my salary. My thoughts keep going back to the victim, though, by the time I actually make it back to the car. And the sick mind that would do something like that.

I certainly hope a certain friend of mine isn't too busy tonight. Knowing Loeb, he won't even touch something like this until next week. And god help me, even if the squad could get a rundown on this, I still think I'd need to turn to him. That's how bad it's getting.

[Harlekin]

http://img139.imageshack.us/img139/838/bannerua8.gif

“A man that doesn't spend time with his family can never be a real man.”
~ The Godfather (1972)

“Jeeves P. Weathersome? G.C.P.D. Please open the door,” Detective Joely Bartlett said as she and Detective Sergeant Vincent Del Arrazio stood in front of Weathersome’s house. They had their guns drawn. They waited a second. She looked to him. Another second. Del Arrazio kicked in the door.

It was already open.

Cautiously, the two detectives entered the building. Slowly, by the book, the two made their way through the small hallway. The two exchange glances as they approached the living room. There too, the door was open. Again, the two detectives looked at one another. That moment before the entering a room is always tense, even when people have worked together for over a year.

It’s silent in the living room.

Sgt. Del Arrazio entered first.

Weathersome looked up, his eyes red, as he sat in large chair in the centre of the room.

“Mr. Weathersome?”
“We are arresting you for the murder of James Finnegan. You have the right to --”
“I’ll come along. I… I… I killed him.”
“We know, Mr. Weathersome. We are still required to read you your rights.”
“I understand.”
“You have the right to remain silent. You have the right…”

...

[Cyrusbales]

[?] THE RIDDLER [?]

What do you put in boxes, but never take home and open?


[?]


The question that perplexed Gotham PD came to an abrupt answer within a week of the surreal note finding it’s way onto the desks of Gotham’s crime fighters.

The scene laid out behind a string of yellow crime scene tape and a horde of photographer’s trying to capture the sight that had been the cause of thirty police officers being woken in the early hours of the morning.

Early rays of sun barely penetrated the thick fog that hung over the cemetery, dancing across the moist blades of grass that edged upwards amongst the graves. Graves which were chillingly nothing more than dirt holes, not a carcass or body in sight. After extensive investigation, the total number of missing bodies tallied at forty two, yet somehow more disturbing was the large green question mark that scrawled it’s way across the entire yard.

A chisel-jawed officer couldn’t restrain his exclamation.

“I think we’re dealing with one sick puppy here.”

[Cyrusbales]

[?] THE RIDDLER [?]

Shreds of newspaper and magazines outstretched their way amongst the dark green fibres that sprung up from the floor. The precise and perfect sound of sharpened metal sliding their way through the thin sheets of the style section was the only audible noise. Such calculated concentration with each snip, carefully navigating the steely scissors around each letter, rounding up an alphabet of assorted shapes, sizes and colours, the components needed for the second riddle that would confront Gotham’s detective unit.

A pristine envelope of emerald green received the neatly constructed message, now sealed inside only to be seen next by the city’s supposed finest. Hands glad in fine jade strands made sure not to leave fingerprints, furthermore, homemade adhesive made tracing the letter’s origin impossible. The only chance for catching this mastermind would be outsmarting him, breaking his perplexing conundrum, but that would not be enough. Intelligence had now been honed into a weapon, one which would surely slay the inferior inhabitants of fair Gotham city.

[Oh Snap!]

IC: Harvey Bullock

When you think of "Detective" what do you think?

Car chases.

Explosions.

CSI.

In reality, it was nothing like that.

Bullock had spent the last few hours getting witness statements from almost everybody in the stadium, his hands hurts like heck and he'd filled his entire notebook up.

Yet at the same time, it made absolutely no difference, it didn't dull his determination to find the killer, he/she/it was still out there somewhere and he was determined to find out who.

He found himself parked infront of Antonio Romaro, the Metropolis Planets' coach, for the past 15 minutes or so. He seemed like a good man, he seemed like an honest man, but at the same time he had a very sinister streak.

".. I would have never even entered this damn bowl if I'd known that it would have cost a child his life, I can't believe it, I can't believe somebody would EVER shoot someone over a goddamn game. I couldn't care less about the result, I mean.. the boys played well, they put in a good performance but the better team one, lead by the best player I've ever seen at this level. I can't believe.. only a few hours ago he was out here, he was playing the game he loved the most in life.. and now?"

Harvey cocked his eyebrow slightly at the mention of the killing being because of the game, perhaps coach did know a bit more than he let on?

"What makes you think that he was killed because of the game?"

Romaro stuttered slightly, taking off his cap to wipe the sweat away from his brow momentarily, he continued to stammer as he answered Bullock's question.

"Well.. I just pre.. I mean.. y'know, why else would someone want to?"

Bullock was convinced, atleast for now, he looked over the coach's shoulder into the changing rooms and scratched his head slightly.

"Alright, Coach, you mind if I have a word with the boys?"

He could see all of the player's inside sitting in silence, not a single one of them said a word, he doubted that any of them were involved in it, but it wouldn't be the first time he was wrong.

"Sure, go ahead.."

As Bullock walked towards the changing rooms, the middle-aged coach added gently.

"One thing though, it's been a long night.. try not to make it harder for them, will you?"

"You think it's long now? It's only just started. If I think any of those boys in there known anything about the shooting.. It'll get even longer"

The pure dismissal of his comment angered the coach, his face went visibly red and all of a sudden he broke into something of a rant, this was where Bullock began putting the pieces together; he'd realised that several times during the final quarter Romaro had gone AWOL, why would a coach leave his team in the middle of the most important quarter of football he'd ever managed.

"You're a good cop, Bullock.. but none of them boys had a thing to do with it, I can promise you that now, I hold myself entirely responsible for their actions on and off the field; the men that were out on that pitch today are the future leaders of America, they're the sportsmen and socialites of tomorrow, they're parents are some of the richest men and women in the country.. they could have your badge if they wanted it.. You really wanna try your luck?"

Harvey smiled, he'd heard the same story from hundreds if not thousands of perps, it was the story of a guilty man.

He might not be guilty of this, but he was guilty of something.

He'd remember that.

"Yeah.."

Harvey pushed open the door, the heavy, warm air hit him in the face as he stood in the doorway and looked back at Romaro a final time.

"Yeah.. I do"

[Gallagher]

Harvey Dent

I Believe In Harvey Dent Part II

"No, Commissioner, I don't see a difference here, one of your officers was- What? No, I'm not trying to undermine your authority, I realize that it is your department, all I'm saying is... Yes Commissioner Loeb. No I'm not doubting your capabilities I just want this thing sorted out, with all due respect I have enough things to worry about without your department falling prey to corruption."

"Mr. Dent, your 11 O' Clock is here." Announces my PA as she enters my office.

"Commissioner it's been a pleasure but I have a meeting now with Mr. Wayne... I'm not sure he'd appreciate you calling him that. I know you don't, yes yes. Goodbye Mr. Loeb." The phone clicks as it goes dead. "Impossible man." I say under my breath. "Martha, could you send Mr. Wayne in please?"

[Eddie Brock]

http://i166.photobucket.com/albums/u118/EBJ05/RPG%20Banners/Joker.gif

When I was going up the stairs, I met a man who wasn't there. He wasn't there again today. I wish, I wish he'd go away.
(Identity)

Even without his hideous makeup, the Joker still doesn't look human. His eyes look even more dark and sullen, and without his trademark smile he just looks grim. He is now wearing a white straitjacket - waiting for the psychiatrist to arrive.

Mr. Farmer is the psychiatrist assigned to the Joker. He is a man not easily scared by murderers or psychopaths. Unlike Stevens, he won't let the Joker's antics bother him. He has a job to do.

As Farmer enters the room, the Joker greets him, "Hello, doctor." The madman's eyes follow the psychiatrist as he places his things down on the desk. "Must we use so many drugs? I hardly feel like myself."

Farmer adjusts his glasses as he states, "It appears that the drugs are the only thing that keep you pacified, Mr. Joker. I heard there was an incident last night."

The Joker smiles weakly. "I killed him," he admits with a sense of pride.

"Killed who?"

"My cellmate," the Joker explains. "I killed him while he was sleeping."

Farmer takes a seat. "How did you accomplish that?"

"Every night since I got here, I loosened the pipe to the toilet in our cell," the Joker replies. "Last night, I finally got it loose. He woke up after the first swing."

Farmer sighs. "And would you mind telling me what you did after you killed him?"

"I made him smile...with his own blood."

"You realize that this means you will be in solitary confinement now?"

"It's better that way. I never got along with people that well," the Joker admits. "I think it all goes back to my childhood in the orphanage..."

"Orphanage?" Farmer repeats bewilderedly. "You told Dr. Stevens that you killed your father, and your mother sent you to a youth detention center."

"Did I? Well...that was my past on that day. Today, my past is that I was an orphan. I like to write my own!" the Joker responds. Being so heavily medicated that he can't laugh wildly, he settles for, "Heh."

[Byrd Man]

http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t302/BatmanRPG/One%20Year%20Later/batlogo.gif


Harvey Dent

I Believe In Harvey Dent Part II

"No, Commissioner, I don't see a difference here, one of your officers was- What? No, I'm not trying to undermine your authority, I realize that it is your department, all I'm saying is... Yes Commissioner Loeb. No I'm not doubting your capabilities I just want this thing sorted out, with all due respect I have enough things to worry about without your department falling prey to corruption."

"Mr. Dent, your 11 O' Clock is here." Announces my PA as she enters my office.

"Commissioner it's been a pleasure but I have a meeting now with Mr. Wayne... I'm not sure he'd appreciate you calling him that. I know you don't, yes yes. Goodbye Mr. Loeb." The phone clicks as it goes dead. "Impossible man." I say under my breath. "Martha, could you send Mr. Wayne in please?"

"Okay, Mr. Wayne. He's ready for you.."

I stand up and smile at the secretary as she points me in.

"Thank you, miss...also, if it' s not too much to ask...could I have your phone number?"

She giggles and blushes slightly.

"Sorry, Mr. Wayne. I have a boyfriend..."

"So? I have a few girlfriends..."

She shakes her head and points me on.

"Just go ahead, please."

I smile and go ahead into Harvey Dent's office.

"Mr. Dent? Hi, Bruce Wayne."

http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t302/BatmanRPG/Brucewayne.jpg

"Nice to meet you. I always like to meet a man before I give ungodly amounts of money to him."

[Eddie Brock]

http://i166.photobucket.com/albums/u118/EBJ05/RPG%20Banners/Joker.gif

The Joker sat silently in his cell. It wouldn't take long until his goons arrived. They were lost without their murderous leader. It was only a matter of time until they rescued him from this Hell hole.

"Hey, freakshow, it's time to talk to the nice psychiatrist again," the guard calls out condescendingly to the man in the straitjacket. The guard has a brace on his nose. "And if you try anything funny again, I swear to God, I will break your legs."

"Such a violent attitude," the Joker replies absent-mindedly. A twisted grin crept onto his face. "You would do well working with me."

The guard scowled. Without another word, he grabbed the Joker roughly and pulled him out of the solitary confinement cell. "Save the talking for the doctor."

As the guard is leading the Joker down the hallway, there are eruptions of shouts and gunfire coming from the end of the wing. The guard keeps moving cautiously, but the Joker merely smiles.

They're here.

Once the calamity gets nearer, the guard forces the Joker to the floor. "Stay there!" he commands as he draws his pistol. He keeps the gun trained on the entrance doors to the hallway - where the sound is originating from.

Suddenly, the door pops open and a jack-in-the-box is tossed out. The door then shuts again. "What the Hell?" the guard thinks aloud. He begins to approach the toy, but the music suddenly comes to a halt. There is a moment of silence before the lid pops open. Attached to a spring is a mini-clown figure holding an AK-47. Without warning, it opens fire - mowing down the guard.

The Joker takes cover until the firing has ceased. Once the lethal toy ceases its onslaught, the doors blast open again, and a huddle of men, dressed like clowns, walks in. One stoops down to pick up the disguised weapon. Another moves over to his institutionalized leader and unties his straitjacket.

"Gentlemen, let's get the Hell out of here," the Joker announces as he slips on a small device onto his finger. A needle extends from the disc-shaped base - which is filled with a lethal venom. The weapon is so small that it can be easily concealed. The Joker approaches the fallen guard. "No hard feelings, right? Let's shake on it!" the Joker states sharply as he forcibly shakes the guard's hand, injecting the bleeding man with a toxin that will kill him instantaneously.

"If you want to know the truth...I never liked you anyway. HAHA!"

[Gallagher]

http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t302/BatmanRPG/One%20Year%20Later/batlogo.gif




"Okay, Mr. Wayne. He's ready for you.."

I stand up and smile at the secretary as she points me in.

"Thank you, miss...also, if it' s not too much to ask...could I have your phone number?"

She giggles and blushes slightly.

"Sorry, Mr. Wayne. I have a boyfriend..."

"So? I have a few girlfriends..."

She shakes her head and points me on.

"Just go ahead, please."

I smile and go ahead into Harvey Dent's office.

"Mr. Dent? Hi, Bruce Wayne."

http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t302/BatmanRPG/Brucewayne.jpg

"Nice to meet you. I always like to meet a man before I give ungodly amounts of money to him."

Harvey Dent

I Believe in Harvey Dent, Part III

I rise from my seat smiling at the man who just waltzed into my office. He looked like he'd stayed up for a couple of nights in a row, bags under his eyes had started to develop, but nevertheless he is full of energy and life.

"Mr. Wayne, It's so great to finally meet you, Rachel has told me so much about you. Please, take a seat." He does so as I turn to my PA. "Martha, could you please fetch us some refreshments? Thank you." She exits the room and closes the door behind her. "Now then Mr. Wayne, to business... I'm flattered that such a high society name such as yourself would deem my campaign worthy of funding. I'm sure Ms. Dawes must have pulled a few strings." I smile, always good to set up a friendly atmosphere in these situations.

[Harlekin]

http://img139.imageshack.us/img139/838/bannerua8.gif

“A man that doesn't spend time with his family can never be a real man.”
~ The Godfather (1972)

“You're not gonna believe this. The guy killed 16 Czechoslovakians. He was an interior decorator.”

“I love this episode.”
“Why am I not surprised?” Vincent Del Azzario replies. Joely Bartlett, his partner, smiles back. Rather than reply herself, she grabs a hand of popcorn. Together they laugh as Paulie Walnuts and Cristopher Moltisanti try to find their way back to civilization. They laugh again when Bobby Bacala comes on, dressed in the most ridiculous of hunting gear.

“You know that being here doesn’t mean I apologize, right?”
“I know. My widescreen tv just gets you hot.”
“You got that right. Didn’t you say this show was ridiculous though?”
“Doesn’t mean I don’t like it.”
“Which is why you have all the DVDs.”
“Okay, maybe like is an understatement.”
“You love the show.”
“I do.”
“You just want to **** Tony.”

Taken aback, she throws a batch of popcorn in his face.

“I am trying to watch the episode, y’know.”
“Like you haven’t seen this episode thirty times already.”



“Forty’s probably more like it.”

[Eddie Brock]

http://i166.photobucket.com/albums/u118/EBJ05/RPG%20Banners/Joker.gif

"This is Trisha Turner reporting from Arkham Asylum, where there has been a breakout," the reporter announces. "So far, authorities are saying that only one patient escaped - the newly-incarcerated Joker. The Joker stood trial two weeks ago where he was found not guilty by reason of insanity. He was then sent here to Gotham's most prestigious mental institution, located in the heart of The Narrows.

"At some point yesterday, a group of heavily-armed men led an assault against the guards of Arkham," Trisha continues, "And these men, believed to be part of The Joker's 'gang,' managed to overpower the unprepared forces here. Over a dozen security employees were killed during the shootout."

Trisha moves over a hole in the concrete walls of the facility. Inside, GCPD officers can be seen examining the crime scene.

"The Joker's whereabouts are currently unknown. The Gotham Police Department is urging citizens to find shelter if they come in the vicinity of the killer. And, of course, they urge you to report any information on The Joker's location to the nearest Gotham City Police Department Headquarters."

Trisha pauses and holds a finger to her earpiece. She is then handed a piece of paper. She nods before stating, "Well, ladies and gentlemen, it looks like the Clown Prince of Crime isn't wasting anytime. Authorities found several acts of vandalism wherein The Joker is making his opinions known on the up-and-coming election of a new Gotham City District Attorney."

The camera then cuts to a photo of a defaced Harvey Dent campaign poster.

http://thefilmchair.com/images/i-believe-in-harvey-dent-too.jpg

"It certainly looks like The Joker is back in business, and Gotham citizens are warned to stay on their guard."

"Shut it off," The Joker commands. He is leaning back in his 'throne' at his new secret headquarters. The criminal nearest to the television presses the Power button. "The news is so incredibly boring. I wish they'd skip to sports already...I hear hunting season begins tomorrow."

And a satisfied smile forms on the psychopath's face.

[Byrd Man]

http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t302/BatmanRPG/One%20Year%20Later/batlogo.gif

Harvey Dent

I Believe in Harvey Dent, Part III

I rise from my seat smiling at the man who just waltzed into my office. He looked like he'd stayed up for a couple of nights in a row, bags under his eyes had started to develop, but nevertheless he is full of energy and life.

"Mr. Wayne, It's so great to finally meet you, Rachel has told me so much about you. Please, take a seat."He does so as I turn to my PA. "Martha, could you please fetch us some refreshments? Thank you." She exits the room and closes the door behind her. "Now then Mr. Wayne, to business... I'm flattered that such a high society name such as yourself would deem my campaign worthy of funding. I'm sure Ms. Dawes must have pulled a few strings." I smile, always good to set up a friendly atmosphere in these situations.


"No, actually Rachel and I are friends from way back. Her mother use to work for my parents. Her mother quit working for us after...."

I pause, not really wanting to bring up their death's. A lucky distraction is thrown my way in the form of Dent's secretary.

"Mr. Dent! The news!"



"This is Trisha Turner reporting from Arkham Asylum, where there has been a breakout," the reporter announces. "So far, authorities are saying that only one patient escaped - the newly-incarcerated Joker. The Joker stood trial two weeks ago where he was found not guilty by reason of insanity. He was then sent here to Gotham's most prestigious mental institution, located in the heart of The Narrows.



"At some point yesterday, a group of heavily-armed men led an assault against the guards of Arkham," Trisha continues, "And these men, believed to be part of The Joker's 'gang,' managed to overpower the unprepared forces here. Over a dozen security employees were killed during the shootout."



Trisha moves over a hole in the concrete walls of the facility. Inside, GCPD officers can be seen examining the crime scene.



"The Joker's whereabouts are currently unknown. The Gotham Police Department is urging citizens to find shelter if they come in the vicinity of the killer. And, of course, they urge you to report any information on The Joker's location to the nearest Gotham City Police Department Headquarters."



Trisha pauses and holds a finger to her earpiece. She is then handed a piece of paper. She nods before stating, "Well, ladies and gentlemen, it looks like the Clown Prince of Crime isn't wasting anytime. Authorities found several acts of vandalism wherein The Joker is making his opinions known on the up-and-coming election of a new Gotham City District Attorney."



The camera then cuts to a photo of a defaced Harvey Dent campaign poster.



http://thefilmchair.com/images/i-believe-in-harvey-dent-too.jpg



"It certainly looks like The Joker is back in business, and Gotham citizens are warned to stay on their guard."




My eyes narrow as I watch the report. The anger starts to build. I only have to force it back down.

"Wow. Looks like you may have your hands full, Mr. Dent."

I reach into my pocket, I pull out a folded up check and hand it to Dent.

"You'll notice that the amount line is blank. Fill out whatever you need. Believe me, I can affored it."

I start to move towards the door.

"I'll leave you to your campaigning. Call my butler, Alfred if you can. I'd like to throw you a fundraising bash."

I'm almost out the door, I only turn to look at Harvey before I dissapear.

"You may be asking 'Why is he doing this?' Well, I believe in Gotham City. I also believe in Harvey Dent."

I nod and just like that, I'm gone. Heading towards the car. My thoughts are already on Joker and the long wait I'll have until night approaches.

[Eddie Brock]

http://i166.photobucket.com/albums/u118/EBJ05/RPG%20Banners/Joker.gif

Greenlaw heard about the breakout on the news. It chilled him to the bone. For the rest of the day, he was on edge. Greenlaw helped that man escape prison, and now a murderous psychopath was loose on the streets. What amount of money could be worth that? Perhaps he made a dire mistake.

So on his way home from work, Greenlaw bought a pistol. This wasn't for self-defense, mind you. Greenlaw was ready to take his own life. When he got home, he tossed his jacket onto the couch. Without turning on the lights, Greenlaw went into the bathroom and examined his gun. Finally ready to do this, Greenlaw placed the barrel on his temple.

"Allow me," a deep, sinister voice announces from the darkness. Greenlaw recognizes it right away as the twisted voice of The Joker. Sure enough, the white-faced man emerges from the shadows of the apartment. Without warning, The Joker grabs Greenlaw's wrist and twists it - causing the pistol to fall to the ground.

"I made a mistake," Greenlaw states aloud, thinking of The Joker's case.

The Joker nods. "Yes, you did," he assures the attorney. Greenlaw hears the distinctive sound of a switch-blade. Before Greenlaw can make another statement, he feels the cold metal piercing his back. "Arkham can't hold me. The cops can't stop me. And you...you don't understand me!"

The Joker slams Greenlaw's face into the bathroom sink. The porcelain cracks while The Joker twists the blade in Greenlaw's back. Finally, The Joker retracts his blade and tosses Greenlaw across the room.

"Why me? You're a free man because of me!"

The Joker smiles. "I just get the feeling that you don't like me very much, Mr. Greenlaw. And it annoys me."

After a quick succession of stabs, Greenlaw's bloody body finally goes limp.

"Let's put a smile on that face!"

And The Joker digs the blade into the attorney's cheeks, tearing the flesh into a gruesome smile.

[Val]

http://i9.tinypic.com/717l3s1.jpg





Selina stood on the top of a building, she stepped closer to the edge and looked down to the street; it was foggy, just enough not to get in her way but to help her conceal herself. The night was perfect.

She stretched her legs a little, swaying her hips, this costume was a bit constricting but she liked the idea of a Cat Burglar, Gotham had Bats, Clowns, Scarecrows, it only seemed suiting that the best thief this city has ever seen would follow the trend and it was a really creative way to conceal her identity and get attention at the same time. She had always liked the attention when the PD would investigate her robberies and couldn't do much more than compliment her skills.

Selina stretched her fingers and looked down at her hands, the new material she had added to her gloves and the bottom of her boots would help her on her landings even if the surface was slippery.

With a deep breath she clasped her hands together behind her and stretched her arms, purring as did. Standing up straight again she smirked and looked at the rooftop across the street. A couple of steps back, a short run and she jumped, landing quietly on her feet, knees bending slightly with the impact.

She moved to the back of the rooftop, knelt down and bent over the side of the building; the windows were just decorative but glass always made things easier for her. With the extremely sharp steel nails she had added to her costume she made a cut in the window glass, just big enough for her to slip inside, with the material of her gloves, she gently pulled the glass out and on to the top of the building.

Selina then held on to the edge of the roof and let her body dangle down to the side of the building, she lift both her legs and in one swift movement, swung them through the hole and slid her body inside, landing on the floor.

She took a long look around the small jewelry shop and moved carefully towards the glass cases, she had studied them this afternoon on her short visit to the shop, the alarm only worked when the back of the case was opened so using the same technique as she did with the window, Selina opened a hole on the case and without touching the back of it, grabbed the diamonds she had fallen in love with a couple of days ago while window shopping:




http://i17.tinypic.com/82m57kh.jpg


A couple of other things from the same case interested her, since she was there, she decided to take them too. Selina then stepped over the cabinets closest to the window she had come in through and with her whip wrapped around a pipe close to the ceiling, she pulled herself up, out of the hole on the window, down to the street and with a smirk on her face, disappeared into the night.

[Gallagher]

http://i166.photobucket.com/albums/u118/EBJ05/RPG%20Banners/Joker.gif

"This is Trisha Turner reporting from Arkham Asylum, where there has been a breakout," the reporter announces. "So far, authorities are saying that only one patient escaped - the newly-incarcerated Joker. The Joker stood trial two weeks ago where he was found not guilty by reason of insanity. He was then sent here to Gotham's most prestigious mental institution, located in the heart of The Narrows.

"At some point yesterday, a group of heavily-armed men led an assault against the guards of Arkham," Trisha continues, "And these men, believed to be part of The Joker's 'gang,' managed to overpower the unprepared forces here. Over a dozen security employees were killed during the shootout."

Trisha moves over a hole in the concrete walls of the facility. Inside, GCPD officers can be seen examining the crime scene.

"The Joker's whereabouts are currently unknown. The Gotham Police Department is urging citizens to find shelter if they come in the vicinity of the killer. And, of course, they urge you to report any information on The Joker's location to the nearest Gotham City Police Department Headquarters."

Trisha pauses and holds a finger to her earpiece. She is then handed a piece of paper. She nods before stating, "Well, ladies and gentlemen, it looks like the Clown Prince of Crime isn't wasting anytime. Authorities found several acts of vandalism wherein The Joker is making his opinions known on the up-and-coming election of a new Gotham City District Attorney."

The camera then cuts to a photo of a defaced Harvey Dent campaign poster.

http://thefilmchair.com/images/i-believe-in-harvey-dent-too.jpg

"It certainly looks like The Joker is back in business, and Gotham citizens are warned to stay on their guard."






Harvey Dent.

I Believe in Harvey Dent, Part IV

I hold the blank check in my hand and try not to stare, the man clearly had more money than god, who was I to deny it? I handed the check to my PA and turned back to the news. "The Joker." I say to myself under my breath. Anger brimming inside me at the sight of the vandalized poster. "He doesnt know who he's dealing with... but he soon will." I smile and pick up the phone. "Martha? Could you get me Commissioner Loeb please?"

"Sure thing Mr. Dent."

"Thank you." I wait while the phone rings, it rings for a long time. Clearly the Comissioner has his hands full.

"Loeb." Comes the answer from the other side of the phone, I've always disliked people who pick up a phone only to say there name.

"Dent." I say mockingly "Commisioner I'd like a word, obviously you've seen the news, it seems I'm a marked man."

"Yeah, Dent we can send you security right aw-"

"I'm not concerned about my security Commissioner, I want to know who this clown is and what his goals are, what's he after? Who does he work for?" I interrupt, I have no time for false concern.

"We... we don't know, the guys an A1 nutball just escaped from Arkham, he strikes at random, with seemingly no pattern or cause. But don't you worry about this headcase Dent we'll have him back in our custody before Christmas." I've heard that one before. Seems this 'Joker' had Loeb scared, he sounds on edge, he's babbling.

"It seems to me that this... 'Joker' has you spooked Commissioner, lets not forget who the real threats are in this City, one insane clown should not distract the focus from our real objective, the Mob, the Marioni's and Falcone's of the world. You bring em in, I'll make sure they go down. That's the deal. Now, if theres nothing you'd like to add, I have a party to organize."

[Harlekin]

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“A man that doesn't spend time with his family can never be a real man.”
~ The Godfather (1972)

“Yo Joe,” Vincent said as he stepped onto the boat his partner, Joely Bartlett, used as her residence. It was early morning, just a few hours before their shift would start. His partner would, at best, have gotten five hours of sleep. Not that Detective Sergeant Vincent Del Arrazio would’ve gotten any more.

Still, he made sure to make an extra noisy entrance.

“Go away,” she replied as she opened the door slightly.
“What? You’re not going to let me in?”

She sighed as she looked at him.

http://img146.imageshack.us/img146/8305/partnersax7.jpg

“You better have a damn good reason for waking me up.”
“Would I come here otherwise?”

She cast him a sideways glance as she walked into her bedroom.

“Well, okay, but still.”
“Why are you here, Vincent?”
“Got a lead on your Lewis case.”
“What?!” she exclaimed as she stormed out of her bedroom again, still in the middle of changing “Why didn’t you say that sooner?”
“Joe…”
“What?”

He smiled at her as he looked down at her body.

“Not that I can’t appreciate the female body…”

Her mouth fell open as she caught his look and ran back into her bedroom.

“Thanks a lot, partner.”
“Pleasure’s all mine,” Del Arrazio replied, snickering.
“Yeah yeah…”

[Apprentice]

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The first blow sent Rachel Dawes careening down the metallic fire escape. Her slim, curvy frame tumbled across the stairs, each one wedging firmly into her back; when she finally slammed against the rail, her unwilling descent sharply halted, she released a whimper and probed her swelling cheek with a shivering digit. The men - three in number, each tall and wide, filled out by muscle - followed her slowly, their footsteps ringing menacingly against the metal bars. Rachel swallowed hard and scrabbled within her handbag, desperately attempting to locate the item that James Gordon had pressed upon her. She remembered his solemn words, as he had instructed her in the pistol's use and told her that she was now a target for the less-than law-abiding of Gotham City. She hadn't truly heeded his words until this moment...until her usual nightly routine had been twisted into a desperate escape from a trio of enforcers. Her fingers curled around the firearm and she whipped it free of its restraints, its barrel locked firmly onto the first of the men.

"We got ourselves a feisty one, boys!" the foremost of them called back to his companions. "Takes a broad with guts to pull a gun on a representative of Lew Moxon."

Rachel gulped, felt it catch in her throat as fear threatened to claim her. She had been specifically targeted by Lew Moxon, one of the most powerful men in the city; she recalled a case that she had passed on to her colleague Adrian Chase that afternoon, regarding an illegal shipment of Moxon's. "It's out of my hands! I'm not the courts, I can't drop a case at this point!"

"We're not asking you to drop it. We're just warning you: never, ever mess with the Moxon clan." He moved ever closer, his lackeys remaining motionless behind him. "You're not gonna shoot me now, are ya? After all, you hate guns. You wouldn't pull that trigger and be responsible for my death..." He reached out and carefully drove the gun downwards, feeling Rachel quiver as his skin brushed against hers. "Good girl. Now, let's talk, shall we?"

Rachel forced herself to remain calm, ignoring the fact that her breaths were undeniably shallow. The gun was still in her hand, but had been pressed down across her stomach; even if she could somehow summon the courage to implement its power, she could not. Moxon's man had her helpless - if not for the single hand at her back, which was once again digging through her crumpled handbag. "I will not be that woman. That damsel in distress that gets smacked around or kidnapped every five minutes because she's one of the few decent people that stands up for the good in this God-forsaken city. I don't care who you are or who sent you, because I will not let myself be usurped by the bad in this world." Her tone conveyed a strength that was nowhere within her, and she moved the pepper spray she had been seeking towards her assailant. He seemed distracted by her declaration, and turned his head to face his brawny allies.

"She's a real screw-up, ain't she?!" he chuckled heartily, just as Rachel blasted him with the spray. It coated his eyes and he released his hold on her, crying out in agony. He flailed wildly and the miniscule canister was knocked free of her grasp.

The two others charged forward; Rachel's gun-toting hand, now free, snapped upwards and almost out of instinct, she squeezed the trigger. The resulting sound was deafening, but she could not hear it over the sound of her heart hammering in her ears. The bullet pierced the second's shoulder and he flopped to the deck with a strangled shriek. Horrified, she allowed the weapon to clatter noisily away and darted down the steps...but the final thug ensnared her with a single lunge, his arm curling around her.

"Stupid, stupid girl. Now look what you've gone and done," he whispered slowly into her ear, his breath dancing across her lobe. With that, he drove her head forward. It struck the rusted rail with a sickening crack as he repeated the action several times before tossing her to the floor. His foot hurtled into her chest and she slipped into a weak foetal position as he continued, his boot shaking her ribcage with each hit. "Never. Screw. With. The. Moxons." Hefting her up by her collar, her body battered and limp, he snarled, "Understood?"

She did not have the strength to reply, or even to listen anymore, as she was overwhelmed by unconsciousness.

[Byrd Man]

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"WHERE IS HE!?!?!"

Rage fills my voice as I slam the man into the brick wall.

The man in question is John Jenks, a fat man with a bad hair cut that also supplied Joker with his little 'toys' last time he went on his spree. The only reason he still has a pulse is because the cops got to him before Joker. He said he didn't know what Joker was going to do with the weapons so the judge went soft on him and gave him probation. He'll find out real quick that I have no intention of going soft on him.

"I-I don't know..."

I bring my hand across his face and slap him hard. He spills against the wall and looks at me with pure terror.

"Don't lie to me!! Where is he!?!?"

"I swear to god I don't know! I haven't seen him since I was arrested. I've been scared to death he's gonna come for me, man!"

I scowl at him, off in the distance I hear an alarm go off.

"Consider yourself lucky."

I throw him down and dissapear into the shadows. The alarm's coming from somewhere farther uptown. There's been a string of burglaries in the Diamond District, this could be the break in the case I've been looking for.

[Eddie Brock]

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"It's time, men," The Joker announces. He leans forward in his chair.

One of the goons looks around to see if anyone else gets it. Finally, he asks, "Time for what, sir?"

The Joker smiles as he responds, "Time to send a message." The Joker gets up from his seat and moves over to a bulletin board full of pictures. All of them are defaced like the Harvey Dent poster - for that matter, the Harvey Dent posted is tacked on there. "This city is filled with misguided idealists," The Joker explains while pointing to the pictures. "Harvey Dent, Rachel Dawes, Lieutenant Gordon, Batman. Someone has to remind these people that the city belongs to us!"

Several criminals enter the room carrying a wooden box. One of them announces, "Sir, we have what you asked for."

"Excellent," The Joker replies evilly. He hops down from his seat and adds, "To the Jokermobile! HAHAHA!"

In the next room is a customized armored SWAT car. The exterior is painted white with purple racing stripes. The sides display SMILE! And the hood of the vehicle is defaced with two black circles for eyes with a big, red smile.

The Joker's men load the wooden box into the back before entering the vehicle. The Joker sits shotgun as one of his men takes the wheel.

"Where to, boss?" the driver asks.

The Joker puts his feet up on the dashboard as he directs, "The nearest Gotham City Police Station."

The driver nods before flooring it. The Jokermobile races off into the streets, swerving in-between pedestrians and cars. The Joker laughs gleefully every time the vehicle hits another person or car.

Finally, the driver swerves to a stop in front of the police station. "Go down another block and park," The Joker commands. "We don't want them seeing us just yet."

The driver obeys and continues to drive. When the Jokermobile stops again, all the men file out of it. The Joker enters the back and opens the wooden box. Inside is an M1 Rocket Launcher.
http://americanhistory.si.edu/militaryhistory/img/media/452_l.jpg
The Joker hands the weapon and the ammunition to two of his men. "Come with me. The rest of you guard the Jokermobile," he commands. "Make sure we don't get a parking ticket."

The Joker walks with an odd swagger in his step. He begins to whistle absent-mindedly as he and his escorts approach the building. "This is close enough," he explains. "Load it."

One man holds the launcher while the other loads the rocket. When it's ready, the two men double-check it before handing it to their leader. The Joker kneels down on one knee as he aims the weapon. "BOOM!" he shouts before pulling the trigger. As he fires the weapon, there is an explosion of fire coming out of the back-end. Meanwhile, the rocket sails through the air until it collides with the lobby of the GCPD station.

The resulting explosion echoes across the city streets. The entire building erupts into flames. Surrounding pedestrians are flung through the air like ragdolls. The carnage glimmers in The Joker's eyes for a moment before he announces, "Let's go."

The Joker and his men jog off to the Jokermobile - but not before The Joker leaves behind his signature playing card. Once all the men are back inside The Joker's vehicle, they race off away from the crime scene.

[Val]

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"WHERE IS HE!?!?!"

Rage fills my voice as I slam the man into the brick wall.

The man in question is John Jenks, a fat man with a bad hair cut that also supplied Joker with his little 'toys' last time he went on his spree. The only reason he still has a pulse is because the cops got to him before Joker. He said he didn't know what Joker was going to do with the weapons so the judge went soft on him and gave him probation. He'll find out real quick that I have no intention of going soft on him.

"I-I don't know..."

I bring my hand across his face and slap him hard. He spills against the wall and looks at me with pure terror.

"Don't lie to me!! Where is he!?!?"

"I swear to god I don't know! I haven't seen him since I was arrested. I've been scared to death he's gonna come for me, man!"

I scowl at him, off in the distance I hear an alarm go off.

"Consider yourself lucky."

I throw him down and dissapear into the shadows. The alarm's coming from somewhere farther uptown. There's been a string of burglaries in the Diamond District, this could be the break in the case I've been looking for.


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A few moments after she touched the ground and started running back to her place, Selina heard the alarm go off, she paused and looked back towards the store, with a groan of disapproval she turned back around and resumed her running.

She stopped a few buildings away and jumped up onto the fire escape stairs, running to the top of the building, once she reached it, Selina ran across it and jumped onto the top of the next one, landing silently she paused and looked over her shoulder and down to the streets before starting to run again

[Gallagher]

Harvey Dent

I Believe in Harvey Dent Part V

I was running. Somewhere, anywhere, a thick fog enveloped the immediate area, I was being chased by something, or someone. I felt claustrophobic, I couldn't breath. No matter how fast or how far I ran he was right behind me, my demon, my nemesis. Myself.

I woke with a start. I could hear the phone ringing on my beside table. I breathed deep and reached over to answer. "H-hello." My voice shook and croaked.

"Dent? Loeb. Listen, The Joker has attacked a Gotham PD station. Were still cleaning up the bodies and rubble it's a god damn mess down here."

This was insane, even for an arkham patient.

"What? He just walked right into a precinct?"

"Nah uh. Seems the Joker and his followers have themselves some heavy weaponry. But Dent listen, thats not all."

What the hell could possibly be worse? I think to myself as I hold my breath.

"It's Ms Dawes." My heart sinks. I get a terrible feeling in my stomach like I'm about to throw my own insides up. "Seems she was assaulted. We think it was payback from Moxon's group."

"Where is she?" I say with a growl to my voice, I could feel the anger welling inside, like a snake slithering through my body.

"City Hospital- what? You got em? ... Dent good news, we found the guys that did this, forensics confirm it. They're at the main precinct now. Dent?"


I slam the phone down and jump out of bed, throwing a shirt and pants on I look to the bedside table. I pick up the dollar coin that was lying there and flip it into the air. Catching it I see that one side is defaced, the other like new. I flip again. Two destinations, two paths, two choices. It glides through the air spinning and twirling until it lands in my palm again. Good side... I need to get to the Hospital.

[Byrd Man]

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A few moments after she touched the ground and started running back to her place, Selina heard the alarm go off, she paused and looked back towards the store, with a groan of disapproval she turned back around and resumed her running.

She stopped a few buildings away and jumped up onto the fire escape stairs, running to the top of the building, once she reached it, Selina ran across it and jumped onto the top of the next one, landing silently she paused and looked over her shoulder and down to the streets before starting to run again

I watch the would-be-burglar streak across the rooftop, I shoot a grapling line out and swing into the night as it catches on a nearby building.

My cape flaps in the wind as I glide down infront of the thief.

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"Going somewhere?"

I throw him a scowl as I stand before him. Upon closer inspection, I notice it's not a "him" at all. It's a woman.

[Eddie Brock]

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The Jokermobile races down the street with a blatant disregard for public safety. If anything, the vehicle and its passengers take joy in causing mayhem, destruction, and murder. The Joker once again places his feet up on the dashboard while the Jokermobile rockets by pedestrian traffic.

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One policeman, who happens to be in the right place at the right time, witnesses the chaos as the vehicle blasts through an intersection. Immediately jumping into action, the cop puts on his lights and sirens. He picks up the radio and announces, "Officer Parkman in pursuit of The Joker. Requesting backup on Madison Avenue heading south."

The driver of the Jokermobile looks in the side mirror and sees the red and blue lights. "Boss, we've got trouble."

The Joker stares him in the eye. "Gotham's Finest simply don't have a sense of humor," he states blandly. The Joker reaches into one of his pockets and pulls out a knife. "I'll handle this."

The Joker leans out of the window, clutching his knife. Then, with an expert flick of the wrist, The Joker sends the blade spinning through the air. The faux-projectile flies straight through the windshield of the cop's car, and it doesn't stop until it collides with Officer Parkman's jugular vein. Bleeding profusely, Officer Parkman looses control of the squad car as it goes into a destructive barrel roll.

"HEHEHAHAHA!"

The Jokermobile continues its warpath meanwhile. Suddenly, two more GCPD squad cars come swerving out of an intersection. They both file behind the armored truck.

The Joker leans back inside the window and opens the glove compartment. Inside is an M16 rifle. "Keep driving," he commands his lackey. And The Joker leans back out the window and opens fire on his pursuers.

[Val]

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I watch the would-be-burglar streak across the rooftop, I shoot a grapling line out and swing into the night as it catches on a nearby building.

My cape flaps in the wind as I glide down infront of the thief.

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"Going somewhere?"

I throw him a scowl as I stand before him. Upon closer inspection, I notice it's not a "him" at all. It's a woman.




Selina stops abruptly as something lands in front of her, her first instinct is to reach for her whip, as her hand rests over it, she takes a split second to look at the figure standing in front of her, that was all she needed to recognize him.

She left one of her hands over her whip, the other one resting on her hip as she smirked and looked him up and down, purring...

"Batman" she paused, giving him an appreciative smirk "you are very much real..."

[Byrd Man]

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Selina stops abruptly as something lands in front of her, her first instinct is to reach for her whip, as her hand rests over it, she takes a split second to look at the figure standing in front of her, that was all she needed to recognize him.

She left one of her hands over her whip, the other one resting on her hip as she smirked and looked him up and down, purring...

"Batman" she paused, giving him an appreciative smirk "you are very much real..."

I quickly reach for her wrist, grabbing it and pulling her in close enough to get a scent of her perfume. It's an expensive scent, that tells me it's not her first time stealing diamonds.

"And you are very much under arrest."

[Val]

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I quickly reach for her wrist, grabbing it and pulling her in close enough to get a scent of her perfume. It's an expensive scent, that tells me it's not her first time stealing diamonds.

"And you are very much under arrest."

Selina allowed him to him to pull her closer and looked up at his face, or whatever little she could see of it.

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She made a tsk noise and shook her head once, "I'm not that easy..."

The hand he wasn't holding quickly came to his shoulder, giving her balance to kneel him hard on his stomach as her hand pushed his torso down, she let go of his shoulder and brought her hand up, her nails scratching his face, the only part of his body he left unprotected.

[Byrd Man]

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Selina allowed him to him to pull her closer and looked up at his face, or whatever little she could see of it.

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She made a tsk noise and shook her head once, "I'm not that easy..."

The hand he wasn't holding quickly came to his shoulder, giving her balance to kneel him hard on his stomach as her hand pushed his torso down, she let go of his shoulder and brought her hand up, her nails scratching his face, the only part of his body he left unprotected.

I wince slightly as the claws dig across my face and I stumble back, my eyes shut.

I quickly go to my shuriken's as I fall, tossing three of them towards her general direction.

CRACK!

I hear a bullwhip break the night silence as I fall on the rooftop's gravel.

[Val]

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I wince slightly as the claws dig across my face and I stumble back, my eyes shut.

I quickly go to my shuriken's as I fall, tossing three of them towards her general direction.

CRACK!

I hear a bullwhip break the night silence as I fall on the rooftop's gravel.

She jumps to avoid his shurikens but one of them scratches the side of her leg; suppressing a scream, Selina cracks her whip close to his feet, giving him one more look before running across the rooftop and jumping onto the next building, disappearing into the dark after a few seconds.

[Byrd Man]

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She jumps to avoid his shurikens but one of them scratches the side of her leg; suppressing a scream, Selina cracks her whip close to his feet, giving him one more look before running across the rooftop and jumping onto the next building, disappearing into the dark after a few seconds.

I stand up as she dissapears in the shadows. I don't bother chasing her, all things considered a cat burglar is the least of my worries now.

I reach down into the gravel and find a small claw.

"Hmm..."

I feel the scratch on my face, it's not too deep. It'll heal and not leave a scar. Whoever this 'Cat-Woman' was I know one thing, I'll be better prepared next time we meet.

I place the claw in my belt and dissapear into the night.

[Apprentice]

http://i13.photobucket.com/albums/a296/Apprentice1/RachelDawesLogo.jpg?t=1197745056
Rachel awoke to four glaring signals informing her of her location: the blinding white lights, the rhythmic beeping of the assorted machinery, the dulled pain that seemed to consume her entire body, and the distinctly unpleasant aroma of disinfectant. Gotham City Hospital was no different to any other throughout the country; it was bright, crowded, and a place despised by all, even the doctors and nurses that occupied it. Rachel groaned as she tried to move, prompting a flood of medical interns to shuffle into the room. At their head was a short, stout woman who began to bark orders at her blue-coated minions before turning to the patient and smiling warmly. Rachel tried to echo the expression, but even moving her lips was a chore. Her facial muscles were stiff and resistant, and so she quickly submitted to their protests and relaxed as much as she could, sink further back into the well-plumped pillow.

"How are you feeling?" the doctor enquired politely, perusing through the array of medical charts she had before her.

Rachel blinked forlornly. "...good, I think. I feel stiff, and achey. But a lot better than I felt when those scum were kicking me in."

"The stiffness is a common side effect of the meds we've used to numb your pain," the doctor explained, ignoring Rachel's half-hearted quip. "Hawkins, how are her vitals?"

One of the interns turned and carefully examined the monitor at Rachel's bedside. "Good, Doctor Bailey. O2 levels are high, her stats are all stable..."

"When will I be able to leave?" Rachel interjected. "I need to get back on the job, I've got cases to sort through..."

"And look where that got you the last time." The new voice was laced with cynicism and irritation, as well as a blatant disregard for both Rachel's injuries and political correctness. The speaker stepped into the room and her firm gaze settled on the patient; attired in a thick brown trenchcoat that obscured her no doubt athletically-built figure, she was stoic and imposing. Fairly tall, her raven-hued tresses were pulled carelessly back into a loose, sloppy ponytail that hung lifelessly across her sharply straight shoulders. Her darkly hazel eyes, tainted with horrors that no-one of her age should have yet had to endure, burrowed into Rachel, who wasn't quite sure where to look or what business this newcomer had in her ward. The doctor and her interns, however, seemed to recognise her importance immediately, and exchanged nervous glacnes between themselves. A moment of awkwardness ensued, which Doctor Bailey dismissed by placing her charts noisily on their rack.

"I'll let you two talk, we were done here anyway. Interns, move on to the arrythmia case behind Curtain Seven," she called, leading her group out into the hallway.

As they left, Rachel eyed the steadily-approaching trenchaot wearer. "So who are you? Those guys seemed pretty intimidated."

The other's brow creased into a frown. "You're not?"

"What can I say? I guess trenchcoats aren't so scary after you've been beaten and bruised by three gangsters," Rachel shot back.

"Don't pretend you were helpless. One of those gangsters is hospitalised with a GSW, and the other has scarred retinas. Only one got away unscathed," the stranger returned swiftly. "The name's Renee Montoya. I'm with the GCPD, and I've been assigned to your case."

"My case?"

Montoya grinned, almost sadistically. "Miss Dawes...welcome to protective custody. I hope you like me, because we're going to be spending a lot of time together."

Doctor Bailey reappeared in the doorway as if on cue. "Miss Dawes? You have a visitor. Mr Harvey Dent is here to see you."

"I'll leave you to have a little chat with Dent," Montoya murmured as she followed Bailey from the room. "Have fun."

Rachel was left to stare blankly at the ceiling, awaiting Harvey's entrance.

[Watchman]

The next mornig I wake up with an incredible headache. I get ready and head outside. I'm suppose to meet my son in twenty minutes at a nearby italian restaurants, one of the few not own by a mobster. After a foul smelling taxi trip I'm there. My son sitting on one of the outside table waits patiently for me. He never approved me doing this line of work. He was hoping that I would have retire after my turbulent retirment from the GCPD. Thought I was too old and it was too dangerous for me.

"Hiya pop. How are things?"

"Fine....fine. How's that girl you've been seeing?"

"We broke up last week."

"Oh..."

"Would you like anything today,sir?" the waiter asks me.

"Just a coffee." I turned back to my son, "is that the information I ask for?"

"Yeah." He pushed the folder toward me. "Listen, Dad, I want you to drop this case."

"Can't do that. I'm going to nail this punk. Besides, I've dealt with with Corrigan and his goons before. I can handle myself."

"God damn it dad!" He slams down on the table causing others to start staring at us. "This has gotten bigger than Corrigan."

"Skeevers? I know Rocco was connected to them and I'm not afraid. I'm old enough to handle myself. I still have enough pull in the department to get them off my back"

"You don't understand. These has gone above and beyond family business. Remember the clown it's more like him."

"All cars report. Bank robbery in progress. All cars...."

"Listen I have to take this. Just look it over and hopefully it will change your mind." He leaves and I take a sip of my coffee. I open the folder and read the first line.

Subject: False Face Society

[SenseiofCheese]

Victor Zsasz
Down the Drain
Part 3

They say timing is everything.

I can't help but agree.

---------

The cold steel of the gun rests against my tongue. I know this is probably the part where I should be scared. Scared of what comes after I pull the trigger. That, or my life should be flashing before my eyes.
But there's nothing.
Nothing at all.

Spending my life on top of the world, I suppose it's fitting that I should die here on the bottom. I don't suppose anyone will kick up any fuss. Just another death in Crime Alley, nothing out of the ordinary.

I put my finger on the trigger and squeeze the tr-.

"...hey."

My eyes jerk open. I slowly pull the gun out of my mouth and look around.

"H..hello? I-Is someone here?"

"...yeah. Over here."

I lower the gun and take a few steps towards the gruff voice. Into the darkness.
Suddenly a dark form limps out from under the shadow towards me. Huffing and puffing, the man steps into the moonlight. He's filthy, he has a beard full of grime and a face like all the others.

"..please....please help me..."

I sneer at him. These rodents really are the cancer that is killing Gotham City.

"And what is it that you want?"

Before I even finish the sentence the man has dropped the limp and jumps towards me. His stinking hands grab my neck and he throws his weight on to me. I stumble back and hit a wall, the knock forcing the gun from my hand.
I feel blood start pouring down my neck. His foul breath in my face.

"What I want, rich boy, is your money. Hand it over!"

I look him in the eyes. I feel his grip on my neck tighten, as he moves one hand down to his pocket and pulls out a small knife. He presses the blade against my ribs.

"NOW!"

Again I say nothing. The only sound between us is of his hurried breath.
And then, and I don't know why, I laugh.

"What's so funny, ******?!!"

"What's so funny? What's funny is that you must have the worst timing in history. If you had mugged me two days ago you'd be a millionaire. As it happens, I'm penniless."

Pure rage fills the man's eyes as he presses the knife even harder against my side. I can feel I'm bleeding now. Doesn't really bother me.

"Stop f****ng around! Give me your ******* money!"

I don't really know what happens now. I mean, I know what happens, but I don't know why.
Instinctively, I bring my knee up to the hobo's groin. With a howl he doubles over and clutches his middle. The knife drops the ground and I rush down to grab it. When I touch the handle I immediately swing the blade upwards.

When my eyes follow, I see my attacker standing still in front of me. A dark puddle masses on his shirt, mixing with other bodily fluids. My eyes focus on the pool of blood on his stomach.
Suddenly the silence is broken by painful gasps and silent cries.

"...a....help....aaah.."

I still can't help but stare at the blood. It's so....fitting, somehow.
Symbolic almost.
I finally tear my eyes off the torrent of crimson and look again into the eye of this man. Slowly, I begin moving closer to him. With each step I take, he attempts to take one back but he's almost gone now.

His eyes....They show me.
They show me that I was wrong.
All this time....All this time I thought I was the one living in imprisonment. That I was the one whose life was meaningless. Without reason.
That I was the one who needed release.

But it's not me, is it?

My hand reaches out and presses against the man's stomach. The heat of the blood warms my cold hand. He gasps.

"It's everyone else."


Yes, his eyes show me. He's grateful. Just as he has shown me what I must do, I have saved him from a meaningless life.

"Thank you..." I whisper, "...and you're welcome."

I look down at the knife still in my hand. Once more I meet the man's gaze. Most would think him terrified, but now I know better.
I bring the knife up into his throat.
His hands grab mine, his legs flail, and blood pours out his mouth with each gargle. His appreciation warmths my being.

-------------------

"Never try to kill a man who is committing suicide."
-Woodrow T. Wilson

[Gallagher]

http://i13.photobucket.com/albums/a296/Apprentice1/RachelDawesLogo.jpg?t=1197745056
Rachel awoke to four glaring signals informing her of her location: the blinding white lights, the rhythmic beeping of the assorted machinery, the dulled pain that seemed to consume her entire body, and the distinctly unpleasant aroma of disinfectant. Gotham City Hospital was no different to any other throughout the country; it was bright, crowded, and a place despised by all, even the doctors and nurses that occupied it. Rachel groaned as she tried to move, prompting a flood of medical interns to shuffle into the room. At their head was a short, stout woman who began to bark orders at her blue-coated minions before turning to the patient and smiling warmly. Rachel tried to echo the expression, but even moving her lips was a chore. Her facial muscles were stiff and resistant, and so she quickly submitted to their protests and relaxed as much as she could, sink further back into the well-plumped pillow.

"How are you feeling?" the doctor enquired politely, perusing through the array of medical charts she had before her.

Rachel blinked forlornly. "...good, I think. I feel stiff, and achey. But a lot better than I felt when those scum were kicking me in."

"The stiffness is a common side effect of the meds we've used to numb your pain," the doctor explained, ignoring Rachel's half-hearted quip. "Hawkins, how are her vitals?"

One of the interns turned and carefully examined the monitor at Rachel's bedside. "Good, Doctor Bailey. O2 levels are high, her stats are all stable..."

"When will I be able to leave?" Rachel interjected. "I need to get back on the job, I've got cases to sort through..."

"And look where that got you the last time." The new voice was laced with cynicism and irritation, as well as a blatant disregard for both Rachel's injuries and political correctness. The speaker stepped into the room and her firm gaze settled on the patient; attired in a thick brown trenchcoat that obscured her no doubt athletically-built figure, she was stoic and imposing. Fairly tall, her raven-hued tresses were pulled carelessly back into a loose, sloppy ponytail that hung lifelessly across her sharply straight shoulders. Her darkly hazel eyes, tainted with horrors that no-one of her age should have yet had to endure, burrowed into Rachel, who wasn't quite sure where to look or what business this newcomer had in her ward. The doctor and her interns, however, seemed to recognise her importance immediately, and exchanged nervous glacnes between themselves. A moment of awkwardness ensued, which Doctor Bailey dismissed by placing her charts noisily on their rack.

"I'll let you two talk, we were done here anyway. Interns, move on to the arrythmia case behind Curtain Seven," she called, leading her group out into the hallway.

As they left, Rachel eyed the steadily-approaching trenchaot wearer. "So who are you? Those guys seemed pretty intimidated."

The other's brow creased into a frown. "You're not?"

"What can I say? I guess trenchcoats aren't so scary after you've been beaten and bruised by three gangsters," Rachel shot back.

"Don't pretend you were helpless. One of those gangsters is hospitalised with a GSW, and the other has scarred retinas. Only one got away unscathed," the stranger returned swiftly. "The name's Renee Montoya. I'm with the GCPD, and I've been assigned to your case."

"My case?"

Montoya grinned, almost sadistically. "Miss Dawes...welcome to protective custody. I hope you like me, because we're going to be spending a lot of time together."

Doctor Bailey reappeared in the doorway as if on cue. "Miss Dawes? You have a visitor. Mr Harvey Dent is here to see you."

"I'll leave you to have a little chat with Dent," Montoya murmured as she followed Bailey from the room. "Have fun."

Rachel was left to stare blankly at the ceiling, awaiting Harvey's entrance.


Harvey Dent

I believe in Harvey Dent, Part VI

I stride down glistening white corridors the smell of cleansers of all kinds filling my lungs. I practically jog over to the reception and breath her name. "Straight down the hall and to your left Sir." I set off again at a quickened pace with a mumbled 'thank you'. I can't think about what would happen if she'd been seriously injured or worse. I had no one else I could truly trust when things went wrong.

I reached her door to see a woman in a brown trenchcoat leaving. She gave a nod as she passed. "I'm here to see Rachel Dawes." I say to the nurse. She steps in and announces my arrival. Politely knocking on the door I push it open and smile at the woman lying in bed, doped up to the eyeballs no doubt. "Hey Rachel. I came as soon as I heard... How you feeling?"

[Apprentice]

Harvey Dent

I believe in Harvey Dent, Part VI

I stride down glistening white corridors the smell of cleansers of all kinds filling my lungs. I practically jog over to the reception and breath her name. "Straight down the hall and to your left Sir." I set off again at a quickened pace with a mumbled 'thank you'. I can't think about what would happen if she'd been seriously injured or worse. I had no one else I could truly trust when things went wrong.

I reached her door to see a woman in a brown trenchcoat leaving. She gave a nod as she passed. "I'm here to see Rachel Dawes." I say to the nurse. She steps in and announces my arrival. Politely knocking on the door I push it open and smile at the woman lying in bed, doped up to the eyeballs no doubt. "Hey Rachel. I came as soon as I heard... How you feeling?"

Rachel smiled softly at her superior, the almost confrontational exchange with Montoya fading into memory at the sight of him. The two had developed a close friendship since Harvey's assumation of the role as District Attorney, and so even his mere presence comforted her. Slowly and weakly, she reached across and depressed a button, raising her bed to an angle to allow her to see him mroe clearly. "Well, let's just say that I've learned that when lew Moxon doesn't like someone, he really doesn't like someone. Can't wait for that old bugger to kick it..." she joked. "Heh, what do ya know? I've got a sense of humour when I'm high as a kite."

[Eddie Brock]

http://i166.photobucket.com/albums/u118/EBJ05/RPG%20Banners/Joker.gif

The pursuit continues with no end in sight for the foreseeable future. The Jokermobile - being a modified armored van - can take a serious beating without major damage. Though the back is riddled with bullet-holes, the vehicle continues powering forward as The Joker's onslaught against his pursuers becomes more heated.

"This is getting us nowhere," The Joker states dryly as he sits back down in his seat. He pops open the glove compartment and tosses the M16 in. He turns his head to look at the driver. "While I appreciate your determination," The Joker begins while reaching for a knife, "I'm afraid you don't make the cut!" The Joker reaches across the front seat of the van and stabs the driver in his neck.

Just as the Jokermobile begins to swerve, The Joker firmly grasps the wheel with one hand. While working to keep the vehicle straight, The Joker uses his other hand to open the door and push the dead body out. The bloody clown flops on the pavement as GCPD squad cars steer away from it.

The Joker shuffles over into the driver seat and slams the door shut. "This has gone on long enough," he announces irritably. He opens the metal grate so he can speak to the men in the back of the Jokermobile. "Gentlemen, let's show Gotham's Finest our newest toy!" And with that, he slams the grate shut again.

Jumping into action, The Joker's men quickly reload their new rocket launcher. Once they are ready, the goon nearest to the back door kicks it open. The policemen have little time to react before The Joker's henchmen open fire - creating more dangerous explosions.

The distinct sound of a helicopter can be heard approaching. The Joker leans forward and peers out of the top of his windshield. Sure enough, a Gotham City Police Department helicopter whizzes by before spinning back around to engage the Jokermobile.

"Crap."

But The Joker's woes are unnecessary as his men quickly take aim and destroy the helicopter with one rocket. Once the immediate threat is gone - for the time-being - the goons shut the back door of the truck again.

[Byrd Man]

http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t302/BatmanRPG/One%20Year%20Later/batlogo.gif

After abandoning my pursuit of the burglar, I turn my attention back to The Joker. He's a madman in every sense of the word.

My head snaps as I hear sirens off in the distance, it's not just one car, it's many partol cars accompained by the thump of a helicopter. I run across the roof top, my cape becomes rigid as I fly towards the sirens.



The pursuit continues with no end in sight for the foreseeable future. The Jokermobile - being a modified armored van - can take a serious beating without major damage. Though the back is riddled with bullet-holes, the vehicle continues powering forward as The Joker's onslaught against his pursuers becomes more heated.



"This is getting us nowhere," The Joker states dryly as he sits back down in his seat. He pops open the glove compartment and tosses the M16 in. He turns his head to look at the driver. "While I appreciate your determination," The Joker begins while reaching for a knife, "I'm afraid you don't make the cut!" The Joker reaches across the front seat of the van and stabs the driver in his neck.



Just as the Jokermobile begins to swerve, The Joker firmly grasps the wheel with one hand. While working to keep the vehicle straight, The Joker uses his other hand to open the door and push the dead body out. The bloody clown flops on the pavement as GCPD squad cars steer away from it.



The Joker shuffles over into the driver seat and slams the door shut. "This has gone on long enough," he announces irritably. He opens the metal grate so he can speak to the men in the back of the Jokermobile. "Gentlemen, let's show Gotham's Finest our newest toy!" And with that, he slams the grate shut again.



Jumping into action, The Joker's men quickly reload their new rocket launcher. Once they are ready, the goon nearest to the back door kicks it open. The policemen have little time to react before The Joker's henchmen open fire - creating more dangerous explosions.



The distinct sound of a helicopter can be heard approaching. The Joker leans forward and peers out of the top of his windshield. Sure enough, a Gotham City Police Department helicopter whizzes by before spinning back around to engage the Jokermobile.



"Crap."



But The Joker's woes are unnecessary as his men quickly take aim and destroy the helicopter with one rocket. Once the immediate threat is gone - for the time-being - the goons shut the back door of the truck again.




The helicopter's explosive demise blinds me for a second. I quickly recover and shoot leap off the building, gliding towards The Joker's vehicle.

I thump hard against the armored car's roof and almost roll off the truck before catching myself on a safety bar. I quickly pull myself up and crawl across the rooftop, heading towards the car's driver.

[Eddie Brock]

http://i166.photobucket.com/albums/u118/EBJ05/RPG%20Banners/Joker.gif

http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t302/BatmanRPG/One%20Year%20Later/batlogo.gif

After abandoning my pursuit of the burglar, I turn my attention back to The Joker. He's a madman in every sense of the word.

My head snaps as I hear sirens off in the distance, it's not just one car, it's many partol cars accompained by the thump of a helicopter. I run across the roof top, my cape becomes rigid as I fly towards the sirens.



The helicopter's explosive demise blinds me for a second. I quickly recover and shoot leap off the building, gliding towards The Joker's vehicle.

I thump hard against the armored car's roof and almost roll off the truck before catching myself on a safety bar. I quickly pull myself up and crawl across the rooftop, heading towards the car's driver.
Just as The Joker can take a deep breath and compose himself, he is faced with another threat. It seemed as though this night was never going to end for the Clown Prince of Crime. But make no mistake, he loved every minute of it. He wouldn't have blown up the police station if he didn't!

As soon as The Joker sees Batman leaning down over the windshield, his heart suddenly skips a beat. Finally! A chance to rid Gotham of one of its worst idealists! The Joker stealthily opens his glove compartment again and retrieves his M16.

"Hello, Batman," The Joker greets his assailant. "Why so serious?"

And in the next split-second, The Joker opens fire on the shadowy figure perched atop the Jokermobile. Batman's reflexes are impressive as he manages to escape from the bullets' paths. Nonetheless, The Joker continues to put holes in the roof of the van in an effort to hit the Batman. When the gun suddenly clicks as its clip is emptied, The Joker tosses it aside and slams the brake.

Batman is flung into the street. As he is recovering, The Joker opens the steel grate and commands, "No one, under any circumstances, will come outside and engage the Batman. This is my fight."

And so The Joker exited his vehicle, slamming the door on the way out. Then, to display his prowess, the madman pulled out a knife and effortlessly tossed it from one hand to the other.

http://i16.tinypic.com/86seng8.gif

"I don't believe we've had the pleasure of being formally introduced."

[Byrd Man]

Just as The Joker can take a deep breath and compose himself, he is faced with another threat. It seemed as though this night was never going to end for the Clown Prince of Crime. But make no mistake, he loved every minute of it. He wouldn't have blown up the police station if he didn't!

As soon as The Joker sees Batman leaning down over the windshield, his heart suddenly skips a beat. Finally! A chance to rid Gotham of one of its worst idealists! The Joker stealthily opens his glove compartment again and retrieves his M16.

"Hello, Batman," The Joker greets his assailant. "Why so serious?"

And in the next split-second, The Joker opens fire on the shadowy figure perched atop the Jokermobile. Batman's reflexes are impressive as he manages to escape from the bullets' paths. Nonetheless, The Joker continues to put holes in the roof of the van in an effort to hit the Batman. When the gun suddenly clicks as its clip is emptied, The Joker tosses it aside and slams the brake.

Batman is flung into the street. As he is recovering, The Joker opens the steel grate and commands, "No one, under any circumstances, will come outside and engage the Batman. This is my fight."

And so The Joker exited his vehicle, slamming the door on the way out. Then, to display his prowess, the madman pulled out a knife and effortlessly tossed it from one hand to the other.

http://i16.tinypic.com/86seng8.gif


"I don't believe we've had the pleasure of being formally introduced."




I stand there as Joker inches closer and closer, my cape wrapped around me, hiding my hands.

"I know who you are."

In the blink of an eye I act, tossing two of the bat shaped shurikens towards him.

"Now meet me."

[Eddie Brock]

http://i166.photobucket.com/albums/u118/EBJ05/RPG%20Banners/Joker.gif

I stand there as Joker inches closer and closer, my cape wrapped around me, hiding my hands.

"I know who you are."

In the blink of an eye I act, tossing two of the bat shaped shurikens towards him.

"Now meet me."
As the Batman makes his attack, The Joker counteracts accordingly. With his right hand, he deflects one shuriken with his knife. Meanwhile, he slinks his body into a position so that the second shuriken narrowly slips past.

"Now, was that nice?" The Joker asks in a mockingly reprimanding tone.

The Joker slings his knife at Batman. The attack, however, is merely a distraction as The Joker reaches for his belt and wraps his hand around a revolver.

[Byrd Man]

http://i166.photobucket.com/albums/u118/EBJ05/RPG%20Banners/Joker.gif



As the Batman makes his attack, The Joker counteracts accordingly. With his right hand, he deflects one shuriken with his knife. Meanwhile, he slinks his body into a position so that the second shuriken narrowly slips past.

"Now, was that nice?" The Joker asks in a mockingly reprimanding tone.

The Joker slings his knife at Batman. The attack, however, is merely a distraction as The Joker reaches for his belt and wraps his hand around a revolver.

I raise my gauntlet and let the knife deflect off my wrist and into the street.

Joker moves towards the gun in his pants. I get to my weapon first, a small smoke grenade, I throw it on the ground and it fills the immediate area with smoke. By the time the smoke dissipates, I've dissapeared. Turning the hunter into the hunted.

[Eddie Brock]

http://i166.photobucket.com/albums/u118/EBJ05/RPG%20Banners/Joker.gif

I raise my gauntlet and let the knife deflect off my wrist and into the street.

Joker moves towards the gun in his pants. I get to my weapon first, a small smoke grenade, I throw it on the ground and it fills the immediate area with smoke. By the time the smoke dissipates, I've dissapeared. Turning the hunter into the hunted.
"Batman, why don't you want to play with me?" The Joker calls out, forcing a childish pout. His grip on his revolver releases, and The Joker extends his arms in a Christ-like pose.

"I swear, I'm a pretty funny guy - once you get to know me!"

[Byrd Man]

"Batman, why don't you want to play with me?" The Joker calls out, forcing a childish pout. His grip on his revolver releases, and The Joker extends his arms in a Christ-like pose.

"I swear, I'm a pretty funny guy - once you get to know me!"

The man is so busy on pantomime, he doesn't notice me descend from the shadows, I round house kick him in the back and send him sprawlng into the street.

"I'm not laughing."

[Eddie Brock]

http://i166.photobucket.com/albums/u118/EBJ05/RPG%20Banners/Joker.gif

The man is so busy on pantomime, he doesn't notice me descend from the shadows, I round house kick him in the back and send him sprawlng into the street.

"I'm not laughing."
"Give it time, Bats," The Joker replies while wiping blood from his mouth. "You run around pretending to be a bat. Clearly, you're right on the cusp of insanity!"

The Joker pulls himself to his feet and brushes the dust off of his purple jacket.

"Join me, and together we can rule Gotham as BAT AND CLOWN! HAHAHA!"

This time, there is no hesitation as The Joker draws his pistol and begins firing.

[Byrd Man]

"Give it time, Bats," The Joker replies while wiping blood from his mouth. "You run around pretending to be a bat. Clearly, you're right on the cusp of insanity!"

The Joker pulls himself to his feet and brushes the dust off of his purple jacket.

"Join me, and together we can rule Gotham as BAT AND CLOWN! HAHAHA!"

This time, there is no hesitation as The Joker draws his pistol and begins firing.

A bullet scraps against my body armor, it doesn't lodge itself inside the armor, but it creates a nice nick in the stomach region.

I dissapear to the shadows once more. My voice booms around the area.

"Face it, Joker. You're not funny, you're just a sad little man who has to put on make-up to feel important."

[Eddie Brock]

A bullet scraps against my body armor, it doesn't lodge itself inside the armor, but it creates a nice nick in the stomach region.

I dissapear to the shadows once more. My voice booms around the area.

"Face it, Joker. You're not funny, you're just a sad little man who has to put on make-up to feel important."
The Joker literally breaks down into uncontrollable fits of laughter. He laughs so long and so hard that it seems as though he won't stop. Finally, he regains his composure and, while wiping a tear from his eye, states, "Hello? Kettle? This is the Pot. I just thought you should know that you're black!"

Then, without warning, The Joker's entire demeanor shifts. He stands up straight, the laughing slowly comes to a halt, and he speaks in a regular - if not menacing - tone.

"Don't lecture me, Batman," The Joker warns, "If there's one thing I hate, it's a crazy idealist with a holier-than-thou attitude. You think that wearing a mask and fighting crime makes you a hero. And your hero complex makes you look down upon the rest of Gotham."

As creepy as The Joker is normally, it's almost creepier to see him being dead serious.

"This city has been rotting for a long time. And so help me, with Falcone out of the way and the criminal underworld in disarray, I will take control over Gotham. And under my reign, chaos and insanity will be law," The Joker promises. Then, with a smirk, he adds, "And no vigilante in a bat costume is going to stop me."

Suddenly, the Jokermobile revvs up. As the armored vehicle races by, The Joker reaches out and grabs the outstretched hand of one of his henchmen. The Joker then tips an invisible hat to his hidden foe before slinking back inside his armored transport.

[MST3K 4ever]

The Iceberg Lounge is packed as usual and Oswald watches everything from his concealed security room listening to everything through listening devices scattered throughout the club.

He dials the number to Maurice the manager, "Keep an eye on table 23 that's Rolland Dagget an industrialist of questionable ethics but many connections and a man of great fashion taste. Make sure the drinks keep coming to him on the house of course."

He looks at one of the technicians and says, "Anything interesting comes up contact me at once."

The Technician nods as Oswald leaves the room. He begins to work the room charming them and making small talk. A leggy blonde named Felicia walks up to him and says, "There's a call on line one in your office a gentleman named Mr. Castaso."

Oswald smirks slightly as he politely excuses himself and gets to his office to take the call of a dictator called the butcher of Costa Mirada General Manuel Burbono.

He answers the phone, "General Burbono my good man how are things in the jungles of Costa Mirada....excellent...the shippment has arrived as promised?...excellent my friend and I hope we can do business again...yes I am sure that you will use them to further the cause of law and order in your region...ahhh yes...well then my friend I look forward to the other half of the deposit in my account...and you have a good evening my friend...goodbye General."

Oswald makes several scratches in a ledger in a code that only he knows. He then makes several notes on his computer.

He lights his cigarette holder and smiles.

Another satisfied customer.

[batman11]

The Joker literally breaks down into uncontrollable fits of laughter. He laughs so long and so hard that it seems as though he won't stop. Finally, he regains his composure and, while wiping a tear from his eye, states, "Hello? Kettle? This is the Pot. I just thought you should know that you're black!"

Then, without warning, The Joker's entire demeanor shifts. He stands up straight, the laughing slowly comes to a halt, and he speaks in a regular - if not menacing - tone.

"Don't lecture me, Batman," The Joker warns, "If there's one thing I hate, it's a crazy idealist with a holier-than-thou attitude. You think that wearing a mask and fighting crime makes you a hero. And your hero complex makes you look down upon the rest of Gotham."

As creepy as The Joker is normally, it's almost creepier to see him being dead serious.

"This city has been rotting for a long time. And so help me, with Falcone out of the way and the criminal underworld in disarray, I will take control over Gotham. And under my reign, chaos and insanity will be law," The Joker promises. Then, with a smirk, he adds, "And no vigilante in a bat costume is going to stop me."

Suddenly, the Jokermobile revvs up. As the armored vehicle races by, The Joker reaches out and grabs the outstretched hand of one of his henchmen. The Joker then tips an invisible hat to his hidden foe before slinking back inside his armored transport.

http://img176.imageshack.us/img176/7263/maronisigul5.jpg

Sal Maroni turned off the television, and looked at his fellow gangsters.

"Gentlemen...gentlemen, gentlemen, gentlemen. Did you see that? DID YOU SEE THAT? That freak just turned this whole city on its head, and all he had were some cheap theatrics and Halloween costumes! Did you see how the news just ate him up? This...this JOKER!"

Maroni slammed his fists on the table, and pointed at all his men.

"We need to make a stand! THIS CITY BELONGS TO US! And I'll be damned if some bat...and some freak job clown take it away!"

Maroni pulled out his pistol and loaded threateningly.

"Grab you're gear, and meet back here in this room, in 5 minutes!"

"We gonna have some fun boss?" one of the gangsters said happily.

BOOM!

Maroni shot him point blank in the head.

"This...isn't...FUN!" Maroni stared at the men, fearfully looking back at him."This is business.' Maroni looked at his watch carelessly and switched his view back to his comrades. "Well, Gotham National Bank isn't coming to us! 4 MINUTES!"

The men scattered, retreating to the munitions room, gathering guns and explosives. As the last thug left, Maroni stood sweating, looking down at the dead gangster.

"Gotham will be mine again...it will."

[Cyrusbales]

[?] THE RIDDLER [?]

The old steel ceiling fan’s blade slice through the air in Gotham PD, an insufficient breeze for the activity that’s bustling around each desk and officer. Lately it seemed as if the whole city was going to hell, law and order laying shattered on the floor, a few good cops trying to pick up the pieces as best they could, but few knew of what really stalked the streets at night.

An overflowing ashtray, just one of the many signs of stress that the latest ‘nut job’ in Gotham had caused. Challenging the detectives directly with a game of cat and mouse, they could only wait till the next puzzle and hope they were up to it.

Returning from a quick snack break, the chiselled officer noticed a disturbingly familiar looking envelope. A deep emerald green square, upon opening it, it was clear from the message inside that the mental race was once again on.



There is a fruit that Gotham adores but never devours. Celebrated for it’s beauty. Within three days this fruit shall hang from a tree, like the oranges in a Californian orchid.


[?]



“Hey guys, we got another one.”

[Oh Snap!]

IC: Harvey Bullock

He'd ran out of bright ideas at the stadium and there wasn't anybody else left to interview, he'd checked all the tapes, checked the names of every ticket holder at the game and he'd come up blank.

So he decided now was the right time to take the bullet down to a certain Jim Corrigan in CSU, he was a scumbag, one of the worst, but he knew how to do his job.

"Why would someone do it, eh?"

Corrigan shook his head and sighed as he looked at the bullet under a microscope, it didn't take him more than five seconds to figure out which gun had been used, even which year the bullet had been made.

"Yeah, he was a good kid"

"I'm not talking about him, I'm talking about using a goddamn Mosin-Nagant, the gun's a relic, should be in a museum"

Corrigan swung round on his chair and rolled the sleeves of his blue CSU jacket up, sliding over to his computer and typing as Harvey spoke.

"You get any prints?"

"Yeah, just let me run them through the computer and see if we've got a match"

Suddenly a picture of a rather weedy looking man popped up, a man that set off alarm bells in Bullock's head, not because he was dangerous or because he was in any way a suspect, but because he was behind bars.

Leon Dennis, came home from work one day absolutely drunk to find his wife getting screwed by his brother, murdered his brother right there and there, would have killed his wife too if it wasn't for Harvey and CJ showing up.

"Bingo"

"You know the guy?"

"Do I know the guy? I put him away for 25 years"

Harvey took off his hat and rubbed his brow, trying to think, trying to piece together some sort of way this could be possible; but it couldn't, he was in prison whilst the shooting happened, because he sure as hell couldn't have got out on bail. Could he?

"How the hell did he manage to put a bullet through the kid's head then, Bullock?"

"That's what I intend to find out"

He placed his hat back on his head, picked up the bullet and placed it back in the evidence bag and then into his pocket, he wouldn't leave it around Corrigan unsupervised, he wouldn't leave anything around him; he knew how to get his job done, sure, but he was a merc. He'd sold more pieces of evidence than there was tea in China.

"Good luck, Harv"

With a slight nod, Harvey set off for Blackgate Prison.. and for answers.

God knows I'm going to need it.

[Harlekin]

http://img139.imageshack.us/img139/838/bannerua8.gif

“A man that doesn't spend time with his family can never be a real man.”
~ The Godfather (1972)

“So, what do you have?” Detective Joely Bartlett as she and her partner Vincent Del Arrazio left her boat, stepping onto the docks.
“You remember that guy at the pool?”

Joely Bartlett shot her partner a look.

“There were a lot of guys at the pool, pardner.”
“Well, y’know, that guy.”
“Just keep on talking.”
“Said Lewis likes riddles.”
“Yeah, I remember him.”
“Well, check this out,” Vincent said as he dug into his coat and produced a green envelope with a question mark on it. “That was delivered a few days ago at the precinct on Kane. Said they found a dozen open graves on a cemetery the following night.”

Bartlett read the message in the envelope.

“What do you put in boxes, but never take home and open?”

She looked towards her partner.

“Wow, this is one sick bastard.”
“You got it. He already has a nickname, ‘The Riddler’. Your perp likes riddles. Go figure, huh?” Del Arrazio replied as he opened the door to his car.
“You’re saying Lewis is the Riddler? Why’d he kill that little girl then? No riddles there,” Bartlett asked as she took her seat beside him.
“Beats me, but it’s a venue worth exploring, don’t ya think?”
“You’re just trying to get this case before Driver finds out about it.”
“So what if I am?”
“Jackass.”

And they drove off.

[Catman_prb]

Johnny Viti's Apartment- 2 Days after The Reading of the Will

Alberto rapped his knuckles on the faded door for a second time. Milos Grappa watched the dingy stairwell that smelt of stale urine and was littered with discarded cigarette butts. Milos had decided to stick with Alberto, rather than join in the escalating tension that was building between Mario and Sofia.Grappa had earned his fame acting as bodyguard for Carmine Falcone, but had been out of town for the events that had led to his downfall. He now saw it as repaying a debt to protect Alberto as well. There was still no answer at the door. Milos took a run up, then kicked the door off its hinges. Inside was an unshaven man in a string vest, holding a battered revolver that looked as likely to take his hand off as it was to shoot a bullet.

"Johnny get some goddam clothes on. You're coming to work for me now," Alberto said quickly watching the gun. It stayed raised. Grappa stepped forwards, and pulled it from his grip.

"Jesus Christ kid, if you're gonna shoot someone, f***ing shoot em," he growled. Johnny seemed to cower under Grappa's glare.

"What's up Alberto? Who says that I gotta work for you?" he said, a tone of indignation creeping into his voice. Alberto rolled his eyes.

"What are you kid? Dense? You're Carmine Falcones nephew, so technically you could be in line to the Empire. You not heard about the trouble between Sofia and Mario at the moment?"

"'Course I have, everyone has haven't they?"

"Well do you really think they're gonna leave you alone? For all they know, you could've been hiding some kind of genius away for years and you're a threat," Alberto said, watching the window. They could be here any minute.

"What 'bout Mama? And what's gonna stop them killing me if I'm with you? Two birds with one stone right?"

"And they say you're slow Johnny. I'm sending some guys around to pick Auntie Carla up right now. And nothing's stopping them 'cept honour," Alberto said solemnly. Milos turned to him.

"That's it? Christ man I thought you had some kinda plan! Honour? It's about ta be a ****in gang war man! There ain't no such thing as honour," Grappa shouted.

Suddenly Alberto heard a car pull up outside the house. Milos went over to the window, and peered out. A bullet came whizzing over his head and hit the lightbulb, sending glass everywhere.

"**** man, what we gonna do? They're gonna ****in kill us man!" Johnny said, in a scarily high pitched voice.

"Johnny, shut the hell up. You know how to use that piece? Good boy, keep behind me, and shoot if you get a clear shot. Grappa cover us from the window," Alberto said, crouched down by the door. There was a shout as the doors to the apartment block were kicked open, and three men came running up the stairs. Alberto recognised them as some friends of Mario, and they were all carrying machine guns. He shot the first one up in the knee-cap, and ran forwards to tackle the second man. He smacked his head into the smoke-stained wall, and heard a satisfying crack. He let him drop to the floor, and turned seeing the nozzle of a machine gun.

"Ah sh-" Alberto began, but then there was a second bang and the third mans head exploded in a mass of gore and blood. He looked up at the top of the stairs and saw Johnny pointing the smoking gun and looking shocked. Then Grappa came running out of the room, grabbed Johnny and pulled him down the stairs. As they reached the doors, they saw around a dozen of Marios men milling around outside. Grappa ran up to one of the cars that had pulled up, and shot the driver through the glass. Milos wrenched the door in, before the men started firing. Alberto and Johnny jumped in, as Grappa put his foot down. The car went speeding off, as machine gun fire broke out.

"Where to boss?"

"The Black Ace Bar, Milos. We're gonna need some cover,"

"What's goin on Alberto?"

"Look's like a mob civil war just started..."

[Harlekin]

http://img139.imageshack.us/img139/838/bannerua8.gif

“A man that doesn't spend time with his family can never be a real man.”
~ The Godfather (1972)

“Where is everybody?” Del Arrazio asked the nearest officer. He and his partner Joely Bartlett had just arrived that 41st precinct, only to discover the entire place was empty, but the few officers left were on their way out.
“66th precinct got bombed,” the officer responded as he too left the building.
“Sarge?” Bartlett asked, turning to Del Arrazio.
“We’d just get in the way, Joe. We can’t help,” he replied to her silent question before turning to one of the remaining officers “We’re here for the Riddler thing.”
“Ah yeah, wait here.”

Bartlett and Del Arrazio stood silent for a second, waiting for the officer to return.

“Hope they catch the bastard.”
“Hope they string him up while they’re at it.”

They exchanged comforting smiles as the officer returned with the green envelope.

“There is a fruit that Gotham adores but never devours. Celebrated for it’s beauty. Within three days this fruit shall hang from a tree, like the oranges in a Californian orchid,” Bartlett read from the card inside “He’s going to wax poetic now?”
“Nutcase is what he is.”
“Looks like we got two days left to nab this guy.”
“Good thing we work best under a pressure, huh?” Del Arrazio said with a smirk as he lighted a cigarette “Let’s hit the road, kid.”

[Gallagher]

Rachel smiled softly at her superior, the almost confrontational exchange with Montoya fading into memory at the sight of him. The two had developed a close friendship since Harvey's assumation of the role as District Attorney, and so even his mere presence comforted her. Slowly and weakly, she reached across and depressed a button, raising her bed to an angle to allow her to see him mroe clearly. "Well, let's just say that I've learned that when lew Moxon doesn't like someone, he really doesn't like someone. Can't wait for that old bugger to kick it..." she joked. "Heh, what do ya know? I've got a sense of humour when I'm high as a kite."

I smile softly as she makes light of the situation. I decide to play it her way. "Yeah well don't be making a habit out of this drug business Ms Dawes, I'm very well connected you know." I say with a wink. "commissioner Loeb called me and said they'd caught the guys who confronted you."

"Actually one of them is in here." Added a nurse, who had just walked in the room. My eyes went wide. "Superficial bullet wound. Should be out by tomorrow." I force a smile and turn back to Rachel.

"Take all the time off you need, no doubt they're putting you into protective custody, or something like it. Get well soon." I say with a smile as I leave the room.

***

I breath heavily as I lean against the wall, I feel dizzy all of a sudden.

"Serves him right for attacking a defenseless woman." I overhear as two nurses walk out of a patient's room. "Well the guy wound up in here so I wouldn't call her that much of a Damsel in Distress."

They had to be talking about the guy who attacked Rachel. I edged closer to the room and continued to eavesdrop.

"Well we had orders from the cops, sedate him 'for our own safety' and all that. The guy can barely move. What's he gonna do?" The other merely shrugged and turned the corner out of site. I quietly open the door and walk in, closing and locking it behind me.

"Wake up." I say with a growl. The guy's eyes opened slowly and threw me a dazed look.

"Who... the hell are you." He spoke slowly. The sedatives kept him drowsy. I walk up beside him. "Wait... I know you... your that attorney... Dent, heh, yeaahh I know you. Got your little friend pretty good didn't we Haha." He said weakly. I narrowed my eyes but kept my cool, he was trying to rile me.

"You attacked a very dear friend of mine. You've opened Pandora's box... you know that?" I say looking at him with pure hatred.

"Heh, what ya gonna do, sue me? Ha!" I grab a pillow from behind his head and force it down on his face.

"Sue you? No." I say, picking something from my pocket, the coin. "I'm teaching you a lesson." I keep the pillow pressed on his face, suffocating him. "I'm not a man of the Law tonight, I'm merely human. You hurt someone close to me, I hurt you. Seems fair to me, seems like justice." I flip the coin in the air and catch it. I look down at my hand to see the shiny side of a dollar. The clean side, the good side. I release the pillow from his face.

"It's your lucky day." I say with a growl, unlocking the door and leaving the scum coughing and gasping for air.

[Catman_prb]

The Alley Behind the Black Ace Bar - 2 Weeks After Hostilities Between Sofia and Mario Falcone Began

Alberto leant back on the fold up chair around the crate, facing the five men who sat with him. Milos Grappa was looking especially menacing when he sat next to Johnny Viti as he looked almost twice the size of him. Other than Grappa and Viti, there were three men who supplied the Black Ace with "cheap" alcohol while maintaining a good quality.

"Gentlemen, I know that I can trust you not to be intimidated by Mario or Sofia. Am I correct in this assumption?" Alberto said in a hushed voice. There should be six men around this table. One been shot three hours ago. The three merchants nodded quickly. This Alberto seemed almost as sinister as Carmine had when he started out.

"Good. I've spread the word that Milos is watching your back. You won't get anymore trouble. I promise you," Alberto said nodding his head. They heard a car pull up at the end of the alleyway. Alberto knew that it was a black sedan. He just wondered which sibling it would be. Then he heard the repetative tap of heels. Ah Sofia.

"Alberto!" came her high voice, scalding as though she had caught him with his hand in the cookie jar. Alberto looked at her. She was wearing a fur coat and diamonds around her neck, a sure sign she had gone up in the world. He tipped his fedora to her in a sign of mock respect.

"Sofia. What can we do for you this fine midnight?" he asked as he saw Grappa tense.

"Stop this silliness at once Alberto. Work with me, and we'll put an end to the madness that has gripped Mario," she implored from the darkness. Alberto raised an eyebrow.

"So aren't you nuts too sis? As far as I know you started it,"

"It doesn't matter who started it, it matters who finishes it. Leave Grappa and that lazy slob Viti, and come work for me. You've proven yourself a valuable tactician now," she said in her clipped tone. Alberto threw over the chair he was sitting on and walked over to her. He poked a finger into her collarbone.

"You always underestimated me. You always looked down on me. You always thought that I would never be anything compared to father, and you're right im not. I'm not helping you or Maria with this stupid war. It's bad for business," he said, looking deep into her dark eyes, which were in stark contrast to her ruby red lips.

"Yeah and you were always a ***** to me!"

"Shut it Viti. You dissapoint me Alberto. We could've come to an arrangement," she said, and span on her heel. It was only now that he saw dark shadowy men in the shadows. She muttered something inaudible, then all hell broke loose. Gunfire broke out from the shadowy men, and Grappa ran forwards to pull him out of the way. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Johnny with a molotov cocktail, though where he'd got it was anyones guess.

The cocktail went up in the air, spinning, and landed on one of two sedans lit up by the gunfire. There was huge explosion, and the first sedan drove off quickly. The men were thrown onto the ground, most of them seemingly unconscious.

"**** man, you're quite the thug," Grappa shouted at Johnny. Alberto stepped forwards into the moonlight. And what was to become of them?
http://images.ea.com/eagames/official/godfather/godfather/us/screenshots/4_3_07/4_thumb.jpg (javascript:sshot_popup())

[MST3K 4ever]

Oswald stands over his book-keeper Arnold Hasler who is going over his financial records.

Arnold says, "The way I see it sir you have cleared more than enough to keep the Iceberg lounge open through the year 2009 before you even have to tap into your own finances. Even if you lose money, but there is only one issue that I see sir, and that is the I-R-S."


Oswald says, "And what issue are they raising?"

He says, "Well sir your earned income and your reported income at some point sir they are going to raise questions."

Oswald says, "My good man Arnold, by the time the IRS audit comes due we will have that situation taken care of."

Arnold nervously asks, "Ummmm how...how...how do you purpose to do that sir?"

Oswald says, "Simple my good man we will move certain funds to a Swiss Account and invest some of the others in low-risk high yield stocks that I recently found out through a well-placed source here in the lounge."

Arnold replies, "But sir is this legal? I mean all of this sounds rather...peculiar sir."

Oswald lets a chuckle through his cigarette holder and says, "My good man this country was founded on peculiar events." He hands Arnold two sheets and says, "Move the funds into these areas within the next 24 hours."

Arnold reads over the papers and says, "well actually these all seem legal and what your purposing is within the law. It skirts it to be sure but nothing the Federal Government would get in a twist over."

Oswald says, "Excellent my good man. Now you take of all of this and there will be an extra bonus in your commission next week."

Arnold nods as Oswald leaves.

He walks into the surveilence room and says to his head of security, "Activate the camera and bugs in my office. If he calls the Federal Government, SEC or FDIC give him his notice. Once he has left shut the office down again."

His head of security nods as Oswald walks away.

[Byrd Man]

http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t302/BatmanRPG/One%20Year%20Later/batlogo.gif

The Cave

I wince slightly as Alfred places a cotton swab filled with rubbing alcohol on the scratches on my face. I'm sitting on a table inside the cave. My mask and the rest of my gear off.

"C'mon, Master Bruce. You can fall from three stories without making a grunt. Are you telling me that the big, bad, Batman is afraid of a little bit of stinging?"

"He got passed me tonight, Alfred."

"Who?"

"The Joker. I had him in my grap, but yet he managed to slip through my fingers."

"And he caused these scratches?"

"No. Someone else did that..."

The Joker's tirade pushed all thoughts of the burglar out of my mind.

"There's a story in there somewhere. I'd rather not press."

"Good thinking."

I pull the claw out of my pocket and stare at it. Alfred finishes up with my face and puts his equipment up. I must confess, having a bulter with combat medicine experience doesn't hurt me in my quest.

"There. All done. It won't leave a scar. The cuts were barely skin deep. They should heal in a day or two."

As Alfred heads back up top, I approach the Cave's supercomputer. If there are any answers to be found, they'll be in the computer's databanks.

"Don't forget, later this week you'll be hosting Harvey Dent's fundraising party..."

"What? We did I agree to that?"

"You didn't. I did."

"Why did you do that? A big party will mean someone could find the cave."

"To keep up with apperances. People have begun to wonder what Bruce Wayne does at night. You've been quite absent on the Gotham social scene. This just might stop the whispers."

"I don't care what people say. I'll have work to do that night, like every night."

"No you will not. One reason why I agreed to help you with your mission, you promised you would be Bruce Wayne more often than not. Batman would take a backseat most of the time. You're starting to slip, sir. I can't stand for this."

I stare at Alfred for a long while, I finally dip my head and nod.

"Fine. They can have the party here."

"WIth you attending."

"...........With me attending...."

Alfred nods and opens up the elevator doors. I wait until he's gone from ear shot before I utter my last word's.

"Bruce Wayne hasn't exsisted since I was 8."

[Eddie Brock]

http://i166.photobucket.com/albums/u118/EBJ05/RPG%20Banners/Joker.gif

The encounter with Batman was still fresh in The Joker's twisted mind. The Clown Prince of Crime would concede that Batman was a challenging opponent. However, this would only make it more satisfying when he was broken. And make no mistake - The Joker was determined to break Batman, mentally and physically. For even the madman recognized that he and his foe were two sides of the same coin.

When the Jokermobile pulled up to the hideout, there was a dog sniffing around the exterior of The Joker's 'home.' Once the Jokermobile had been parked, The Joker went outside to investigate. The psychopath knelt down and stroked the canine's head.

"Must be a stray," one of The Joker's goons announces.

The Joker smiled. "Much like The Batman," he replied. And The Joker rose to his feet and brushed the dog hair off his leather gloves. "And we all know that there is only one thing to do with a stray," The Joker continues.

And in one swift motion, The Joker grabs his pistol and pulls it on the dog. The Joker's smile widens as he pulls the trigger, ending the animal's life. Satisfied with his work, he puts the pistol away. But he does not kneel down to perform his signature move - the carving of a smile. After all, this was just a dog, and that would be...crazy.

"Throw this useless thing away," The Joker commands, motioning to the bleeding, lifeless body of the stray dog. And with a twisted swagger in his step, The Joker enters his hideout - pleased with all of his accomplishments on this night.

[Climperoonie]

BANE


My name is Bane. This is the story of my Downfall. The story of how Shaun Backer died, and how I rose from the ashes. When I was just petty old ordinary Backer, I hadn't a care in the world. I worked at a Newspaper company, and one day on my way home, I saw a fellow colleague being mugged. Before I knew what I was doing, I was leaping forward at the mugger. Then a noise that shook me to the core errupted. BLAM! My face exploded in pain. I drop to the ground, and saw the man reloading. He had run out of bullets, so I was lucky. CRACK! Maybe not. He had broken my nose. That was when I blacked out.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. That was the noise I woke up to.

"Hello?!" I shouted. The room looked like a lab, and I was strapped to a table.

"Ah, Mr. Backer, you are awake." The voice came from the shadows. A man in a lab-coat stepped out.

"Who are you?" I scream at him, struggling to break from my bonds.

"I am Doctor Fitzgerald." The man said. "And you are to become my experiment." Before I knew what was happening, he had leapt forward and strapped a mask over my face.

[Harlekin]

http://img139.imageshack.us/img139/838/bannerua8.gif

“A man that doesn't spend time with his family can never be a real man.”
~ The Godfather (1972)

“There is a fruit that Gotham adores but never devours. Celebrated for it’s beauty. Within three days this fruit shall hang from a tree, like the oranges in a Californian orchid,” Bartlett repeated again as she and her partner sat at their desks “What’s so special about a Californian orchid?”
“Kid, I ain’t ever been in California.”
“The fruit that we never devour?”
“You’re as much a Gothamite as I am. I have no idea.”

Bartlett sighed.

“Damnit!”

The bastard was going to get away with it.

[Eddie Brock]

http://i166.photobucket.com/albums/u118/EBJ05/RPG%20Banners/Joker.gif

The Joker gazed upon his bulletin board of Gotham's biggest 'do-gooders.' He merely stared at the defaced picture of Batman for a while. Oh, he would enjoy being able to draw a big 'X' over that face. The Joker stepped back and looked at the other photos. Many of them had already been crossed out. Then the madman's eyes locked upon Harvey Dent.

A chilling smile overtook The Joker's face as he thought about the campaigning DA. The Joker had made his opinions known about Dent, and make no mistake, The Joker had his reasons for targeting Harv. In fact, it was time to confront Dent about this.

"Gentlemen, I'm off to have a talk with Mr. Dent," The Joker announces to his motley crew. "Enjoy yourselves, but remember: no Pay-Per-View! HAHA!"

And so The Joker entered his civilian vehicle - a purple convertible. In the dark of Gotham City, no one would recognize the maniacal driver. This car allowed The Joker to travel about Gotham City undetected. And, as an added bonus, The Joker switched the plates out every week.

Driving calmly and slowly, The Joker headed for Harvey Dent's campaign headquarters. The Joker laughed quietly to himself as he imagined the encounter.

When The Joker arrived at his destination, he parked the car and popped the trunk. Grabbing the supplies he would need, The Joker made his way to the door. It was quite late, and the only person working was Harvey Dent's secretary. Using a fedora to hide his face, The Joker asked, "Is Mr. Dent in?"

The secretary did not look up from her computer. "He's out visiting Ms. Dawes," she explains.

Dawes? As in Rachel Dawes? She was another target on The Joker's list - albeit a less important one. Nonetheless, The Joker continued, "Do you expect him back soon?"

"I honestly don't know."

The Joker puts his hands in his pockets. "I can wait," he explains.

"If you'd like, I can take your name and contact you when Mr. Dent returns," the secretary suggests - still not looking at the visitor.

"My name?" The Joker repeats happily. "It's JOKER."

The secretary looks up just in time to see the man remove his fedora. Before she can scream, a well-thrown knife pierces her heart. As she looks at the running blood, the killer advances on her.

The Joker would wait for the secretary to bleed out before performing his trademark move. In the meantime, he enjoyed watching her slowly die. It was more entertaining than reality TV to him.

[Cyrusbales]

[?]THE RIDDLER[?]


Preliminary report from the ‘Juilia Estenmoor’ murder scene by Dr. E. J. Lowe, Chief Medical examiner.

The victim has been identified as Julia Estenmoor, who was recently nominated as ‘Miss Gotham’. She is twenty four years of age and was reported missing this morning.

Her body was found hung from Gotham’s Christmas tree in the centre of the market district in the early hours of the morning. The rope used is currently being traced, but all signs indicate it is mass manufactured and tracing will provide little, if any, evidence to assist in the solution of this crime.

The swelling in the ocular cavities and stress on the veins of the neck and within the vitreous-humour is consistent with death by hanging, for a confirmed cause of death a full autopsy will need to be conducted to clarify the above.

Traces of an unknown green fibre has been extracted from underneath the victim’s fingernails, likely to be a man-made fibre used in mass manufactured clothing. The nails themselves were in good quality, and no signs of a struggle are evident as bruising is only apparent around the neck area from the suspected cause of death.

There is no sign of sexual trauma in any part of the victim’s body, and no removal of body parts in any way is apparent. Her bag and personal effects lie at the bottom of the tree itself, ruling out robbery as a motive, which is further re-enforced by the displaying of the body in such a public place, not too mention the difficulty involved in placing the body in such a way and place without being discovered.

An aerial photograph has revealed a large green question mark symbol scrawled across the whole area in what we believe to be the same untraceable paint used in the theft of bodies from Gotham cemetery recently.

As of yet, there appears to be no evidence of the killer/killers that can be quantified apart from the green fibre which awaits analysis later this afternoon. On a side note, Julia’s background shows she moved to Gotham when she was four from California, further linking this crime to the note received by Gotham PD three days earlier.

A full autopsy and analysis shall be completed within the next three days.

[Climperoonie]

BANE


My name is Bane. This is the story of my Downfall. The story of how Shaun Backer died, and how I rose from the ashes. When I was just petty old ordinary Backer, I hadn't a care in the world. I worked at a Newspaper company, and one day on my way home, I saw a fellow colleague being mugged. Before I knew what I was doing, I was leaping forward at the mugger. Then a noise that shook me to the core errupted. BLAM! My face exploded in pain. I drop to the ground, and saw the man reloading. He had run out of bullets, so I was lucky. CRACK! Maybe not. He had broken my nose. That was when I blacked out.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. That was the noise I woke up to.

"Hello?!" I shouted. The room looked like a lab, and I was strapped to a table.

"Ah, Mr. Backer, you are awake." The voice came from the shadows. A man in a lab-coat stepped out.

"Who are you?" I scream at him, struggling to break from my bonds.

"I am Doctor Fitzgerald." The man said. "And you are to become my experiment." Before I knew what was happening, he had leapt forward and strapped a mask over my face.
BANE
When I come too, I am in a metal holding cell with but a glass window in the corner. This would have terrorfied me most if it wasn't for the fact that my body had become almost unrecognisable. I looked as though I had been put through rigourous exercise and been subdued to a LOT of steriods. I was wearing dark blue fingerless gloves, trousers and straps across my chest and black bunker boots. I reach up to my face and feel a mask covering it.

"No, No, no, no, no no!" I shout the last word. I hear Dr Fitzgerald outside laughing. I get annoyed. I run, straight at the metal door. I managed to break through and see the startled look on Dr Fitzgerald's face. He's gonna pay for ruining my life.

[Val]

http://i9.tinypic.com/717l3s1.jpg

Selina woke up in the morning after her encounter with the Batman still in a bad mood, sure she had managed to escape, as expected, but no one had been able to get that close before. Of course her new clothes and accessories could have some fault since it had been the first time she wore the full outfit but what bothered her the most was that she hadn't heard him approach her at all... she was stealthy and she took pride on it but she had never met anyone as good, or possibly better, than her.

With a stretch she picked up her warm cup of coffee and walked over to the living room, Selina picked up her mail and trashed all the junk until something caught her eye, a smirk grew slowly on her lips as she read the contents of the envelop...

"Fund raiser at the Wayne Manor... sounds interesting."

For a few months now Selina had been trying to get better.. acquaintance with Gotham's finest. This would be a good opportunity.

[Harlekin]

http://img139.imageshack.us/img139/838/bannerua8.gif

“A man that doesn't spend time with his family can never be a real man.”
~ The Godfather (1972)

Vincent Del Arrazio read through the report of the Chief Medical examiner had written on the ‘Miss Gotham’ crime scene. Del Arrazio had not actually been there when the body was found, but the report was detailed enough for him to visualize what the unsuspecting citizens of Gotham had come upon when doing their Christmas shopping. It was not a pretty picture.

“Bastard got us good,” his partner, Joely Bartlett, said as she sat down at her desk, which sat opposite of his.
“You can say that again. How did we miss this, Joe? The fruit that Gotham ‘adores but never devours. Celebrated for its beauty’?”
“Don’t beat yourself up, Sarge, this guy is good.”
“Real good.”
“So what are we going to do about it?”
“We can’t do anything about it. This guy has no rhyme or reason beyond his riddles.”
“Maybe that’s what we need to do?”
“What, leave riddles?”
“Yeah, you see…” and Joely explained her plan.

* * *

GOTHAM GAZETTE

FOR: THE RIDDLER

All of Gotham City knows them, but they do not know all of Gotham City.

Who are they?

[Gallagher]

http://i166.photobucket.com/albums/u118/EBJ05/RPG%20Banners/Joker.gif

The Joker gazed upon his bulletin board of Gotham's biggest 'do-gooders.' He merely stared at the defaced picture of Batman for a while. Oh, he would enjoy being able to draw a big 'X'over that face. The Joker stepped back and looked at the other photos. Many of them had already been crossed out. Then the madman's eyes locked upon Harvey Dent.

A chilling smile overtook The Joker's face as he thought about the campaigning DA. The Joker had made his opinions known about Dent, and make no mistake, The Joker had his reasons for targeting Harv. In fact, it was time to confront Dent about this.

"Gentlemen, I'm off to have a talk with Mr. Dent," The Joker announces to his motley crew. "Enjoy yourselves, but remember: no Pay-Per-View! HAHA!"

And so The Joker entered his civilian vehicle - a purple convertible. In the dark of Gotham City, no one would recognize the maniacal driver. This car allowed The Joker to travel about Gotham City undetected. And, as an added bonus, The Joker switched the plates out every week.

Driving calmly and slowly, The Joker headed for Harvey Dent's campaign headquarters. The Joker laughed quietly to himself as he imagined the encounter.

When The Joker arrived at his destination, he parked the car and popped the trunk. Grabbing the supplies he would need, The Joker made his way to the door. It was quite late, and the only person working was Harvey Dent's secretary. Using a fedora to hide his face, The Joker asked, "Is Mr. Dent in?"

The secretary did not look up from her computer. "He's out visiting Ms. Dawes," she explains.

Dawes? As in Rachel Dawes? She was another target on The Joker's list - albeit a less important one. Nonetheless, The Joker continued, "Do you expect him back soon?"

"I honestly don't know."

The Joker puts his hands in his pockets. "I can wait," he explains.

"If you'd like, I can take your name and contact you when Mr. Dent returns," the secretary suggests - still not looking at the visitor.

"My name?" The Joker repeats happily. "It's JOKER."

The secretary looks up just in time to see the man remove his fedora. Before she can scream, a well-thrown knife pierces her heart. As she looks at the running blood, the killer advances on her.

The Joker would wait for the secretary to bleed out before performing his trademark move. In the meantime, he enjoyed watching her slowly die. It was more entertaining than reality TV to him.





Harvey Dent

Christmas with the Joker, Part I

My mind races as I leave the hospital, with it leaving behind a choice I could have regretted forever. It was a flip of a coin, a 50/50 chance of doing something incomprehensible. Take a life. What the hell is wrong with me, I'm not a violent man, never have been. Why was I compelled to do such a terrible thing? Was it my feelings for Rachel? or my hatred for the evils of men? Perhaps maybe both, I don't know, but what I do know is I'm no executioner.

I breathe heavily as I pass the window decorations in the town, it was late, the stores were closed but still the red and green festive colours dazzled and stood out from the rest of Gotham's brown, grey and black. Such a good and innocent celebration of Christmas seemed nigh impossible on the streets of Gotham, crime and corruption roamed free as a bird, how could anybody celebrate a time of giving when clearly everything was being taken from them.

It's why I do what I do. Give it back, give Gotham back to the people from which it was cruelly stolen. With my mind on work I decide to stop by the office, paperwork isn't going to fill itself out after all.

***

The lights were off, Martha must've called it a night, and no wonder! I gazed up at the clock, it's the early hours of the morning! Suddenly the smell hits me. Blood, the sickening smell of warm blood, I could practically taste the metallic tang of the plasma in the air. Martha was dead.

"Oh Jesus... Oh God no..."

[Eddie Brock]

http://i166.photobucket.com/albums/u118/EBJ05/RPG%20Banners/Joker.gif

Harvey Dent

Christmas with the Joker, Part I

My mind races as I leave the hospital, with it leaving behind a choice I could have regretted forever. It was a flip of a coin, a 50/50 chance of doing something incomprehensible. Take a life. What the hell is wrong with me, I'm not a violent man, never have been. Why was I compelled to do such a terrible thing? Was it my feelings for Rachel? or my hatred for the evils of men? Perhaps maybe both, I don't know, but what I do know is I'm no executioner.

I breathe heavily as I pass the window decorations in the town, it was late, the stores were closed but still the red and green festive colours dazzled and stood out from the rest of Gotham's brown, grey and black. Such a good and innocent celebration of Christmas seemed nigh impossible on the streets of Gotham, crime and corruption roamed free as a bird, how could anybody celebrate a time of giving when clearly everything was being taken from them.

It's why I do what I do. Give it back, give Gotham back to the people from which it was cruelly stolen. With my mind on work I decide to stop by the office, paperwork isn't going to fill itself out after all.

***

The lights were off, Martha must've called it a night, and no wonder! I gazed up at the clock, it's the early hours of the morning! Suddenly the smell hits me. Blood, the sickening smell of warm blood, I could practically taste the metallic tang of the plasma in the air. Martha was dead.

"Oh Jesus... Oh God no..."
The Joker immediately hears the repulsed reactions of Harvey Dent. It brings a smile to his face. To think, that one simple murder could have such a profound effect. Truly, this was one of the many reasons that The Joker loved his pastime.

"Jesus? Please, Mr. Dent, my friends call me Joker," the madman calls out in a sickeningly sweet voice. He flicks on the lights in Harvey's office. The blood-stained Joker is relaxing in Harvey's chair with his feet up on the desk. He absent-mindedly carves fine lines in the wood with his bloody knife - the same knife that saw the end of Martha's life.

"Please, have a seat," The Joker calls out, "I'd like to talk about my campaign contribution."

[Green Lantern]

12/21/2007, 3:51 P.M., J. Edgar Hoover Building, Washington, D.C.
Office of FBI Director Simon Bones

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/1/18/J_edgar_hoover_bldg.jpg/450px-J_edgar_hoover_bldg.jpg

A blonde woman knocked on the closed wooden door, below the brass plate labeled Director Bones.

What could he want? If I hadn't shot Props he would have killed another girl.

"Come in."

Special Agent Cameron Chase's thoughts were interrupted by the gruff voice of the Director. She hesitated for just a second before opening the door.

"Ah, good. Have a seat Agent Chase."

As she sat down across from him, she looked down nervously at his paper strewn desk, looking for any clue as to why the Director wanted to see her.

"Nervous, agent? No need to be. You have an outstanding record both as a profiler and as a field agent. Your role was crucial in the Monty Props case. That said, I have a favor to ask of you."

"What is it, sir?"

The older black man across from her clasped his hands, "Temporary reassignment. A large number of unusual cases seem to be popping up in Gotham City, New Jersey. Assistant Director Steel requested you specifically since you seem to have a knack for solving the unusual cases. I told him it would be up to you."

Chase's mind started processing this. Its only temporary. I think I can handle living in Gotham for a little while. And would I like the opportunity to profile their 'Batman'

"Sure sir, I'll do it."

"Good, I'll call him and give him the good news."

As Chase got up and started to walk towards the door, she heard the Director's rough voice again.

"Oh, and Agent? You're still to report to me, also. I don't entirely trust Steel."

"Yes, sir."

12/29/2007 12:18 P.M. Archie Goodwin International Airport, Gotham City, New Jersey.

As Agent Chase stepped out of the gate carrying her briefcase and laptop, she saw a brunette in a pantsuit, holding a similar briefcase.

"Agent Barrett?"

"Yes, you must be Agent Chase. Hurry, we got a crime scene to get to."

"Crime scene? Already? I haven't even picked up my luggage!"

"Get used to it, you're in Gotham now..."

"Alright, what's up?"

"Serial killer's latest 'family' outing."

"'Family outing'? What's that mean?"

"So far the only lead we have is that all nine of his victims are related. All members of the Etchison family."

"Where's the body?"

"An abandoned warehouse in Crime Alley."

"Crime Alley? God, you guys really go over the top here don't you?"

"Welcome to Gotham, Agent Chase."

[Gallagher]

http://i166.photobucket.com/albums/u118/EBJ05/RPG%20Banners/Joker.gif


The Joker immediately hears the repulsed reactions of Harvey Dent. It brings a smile to his face. To think, that one simple murder could have such a profound effect. Truly, this was one of the many reasons that The Joker loved his pastime.

"Jesus? Please, Mr. Dent, my friends call me Joker," the madman calls out in a sickeningly sweet voice. He flicks on the lights in Harvey's office. The blood-stained Joker is relaxing in Harvey's chair with his feet up on the desk. He absent-mindedly carves fine lines in the wood with his bloody knife - the same knife that saw the end of Martha's life.

"Please, have a seat," The Joker calls out, "I'd like to talk about my campaign contribution."

Harvey Dent

Christmas with the Joker, Part II
Several thoughts darted through my head all at once, choices to make. I could make a run for it, out the door I came from. I could assault the maniac, fight my way out of this. No, he'd be expecting either of those things. I decided to play it cool.

"I'd rather stand." I say turning my eyes away from the lifeless and bloody body of my secretary. The next sight I laid eyes on was almost as nightmare-inducing. The 'clown prince of crime' the newspapers had dubbed him. I knew better, he was just another maniac. Just another unloved lunatic preying on the fearful. "What do you want clown?"

[Eddie Brock]

http://i166.photobucket.com/albums/u118/EBJ05/RPG%20Banners/Joker.gif

Harvey Dent

Christmas with the Joker, Part II
Several thoughts darted through my head all at once, choices to make. I could make a run for it, out the door I came from. I could assault the maniac, fight my way out of this. No, he'd be expecting either of those things. I decided to play it cool.

"I'd rather stand." I say turning my eyes away from the lifeless and bloody body of my secretary. The next sight I laid eyes on was almost as nightmare-inducing. The 'clown prince of crime' the newspapers had dubbed him. I knew better, he was just another maniac. Just another unloved lunatic preying on the fearful. "What do you want clown?"

"I want what you want, Harv," The Joker replies innocently with a coy frown. His demeanor instantly returns to its normal, unhealthily happy state.

The Joker tosses one of his defaced Dent campaign ads across the desk. Surely, the future District Attorney has already seen it, but The Clown Prince of Crime shows it to him anyway.

"I believe in Harvey Dent, too," he states matter-of-factly, reciting the phrase emblazoned on the sheet of paper. Then, he shrinks down lower as his smile widens. "And I mean every word."

The Joker pulls out a deck of cards and begins to shuffle it. "Now, go ahead and ask it," The Joker orders. He knows that his comrade is surely wondering why he has earned the madman's support.

[Gallagher]

http://i166.photobucket.com/albums/u118/EBJ05/RPG%20Banners/Joker.gif


"I want what you want, Harv," The Joker replies innocently with a coy frown. His demeanor instantly returns to its normal, unhealthily happy state.

The Joker tosses one of his defaced Dent campaign ads across the desk. Surely, the future District Attorney has already seen it, but The Clown Prince of Crime shows it to him anyway.

"I believe in Harvey Dent, too," he states matter-of-factly, reciting the phrase emblazoned on the sheet of paper. Then, he shrinks down lower as his smile widens. "And I mean every word."

The Joker pulls out a deck of cards and begins to shuffle it. "Now, go ahead and ask it," The Joker orders. He knows that his comrade is surely wondering why he has earned the madman's support.

Harvey Dent

Christmas with the Joker, Part III

I looked down at the poster, childish scribbling drawn all over it. I wasn't impressed by immature pseudo-death threats and mockery. I decided to humour the madman. Heh, 'Humour' something which he obviously liked to think he knew a lot about.

"Alright. Why? Why do I deserve your attention? Surely there's some helpless woman to murder."

[Eddie Brock]

http://i166.photobucket.com/albums/u118/EBJ05/RPG%20Banners/Joker.gif

Harvey Dent

Christmas with the Joker, Part III

I looked down at the poster, childish scribbling drawn all over it. I wasn't impressed by immature pseudo-death threats and mockery. I decided to humour the madman. Heh, 'Humour' something which he obviously liked to think he knew a lot about.

"Alright. Why? Why do I deserve your attention? Surely there's some helpless woman to murder."
"Quite right!" The Joker responds gleefully. "So I'll make this fast so I can get to her!" In all actuality, The Joker never plans ahead for a killing - unless it's high-profile. However, he likes to play along to repulse Mr. Dent.

"I recognize something in you, Harv - something dark," The Joker explains calmly. His shuffling of the cards immediately ceases. "You use 'the law' to justify your crusade, YET there are times when you put yourself above the law, are there not?"

The Joker could practically sense Harvey's body as it tenses up. What exactly did this clown know? What was he driving at?

"You, like The Batman, recognize that there are times when justice involves being unjust. And I absolutely LOVE that duality in you!"

The Joker returns to his playfully card-shuffling.

"You're damaged goods, Harvey. And I truly believe that, given the pressure of the District Attorney position, you'll crack," he admits. "And I think it will tickle me pink to see a lawbreaking DA in office!"

The Joker gets up from his seat and makes his way to the door. As he passes Harvey, he holds out a Joker card.

"Give Rachel my best."

The Joker's smile expands as he sees the horror on Harvey's face at the mention of Rachel Dawes. If there's one way to get under a man's skin - no matter how tough it is - threaten his lady-friend. Even if one doesn't follow through with the threat, it can be quite enjoyable to watch the other man's reaction.

Harvey glares at The Joker and refuses to take the card. So The Joker slides it into the front pocket of Harvey's shirt. And with a calm grin, The Joker lightly pats Harvey on the cheek. Dent shrinks away from the contact - which only makes the clown chuckle softly.

And with the simple press of a button, The Joker unleashes canisters of harmless green and purple gas into the room. The gas is merely a distraction so The Joker can make his getaway without Dent trying to make a move.

[Gallagher]

http://i166.photobucket.com/albums/u118/EBJ05/RPG%20Banners/Joker.gif


"Quite right!" The Joker responds gleefully. "So I'll make this fast so I can get to her!" In all actuality, The Joker never plans ahead for a killing - unless it's high-profile. However, he likes to play along to repulse Mr. Dent.

"I recognize something in you, Harv - something dark," The Joker explains calmly. His shuffling of the cards immediately ceases. "You use 'the law' to justify your crusade, YET there are times when you put yourself above the law, are there not?"

The Joker could practically sense Harvey's body as it tenses up. What exactly did this clown know? What was he driving at?

"You, like The Batman, recognize that there are times when justice involves being unjust. And I absolutely LOVE that duality in you!"

The Joker returns to his playfully card-shuffling.

"You're damaged goods, Harvey. And I truly believe that, given the pressure of the District Attorney position, you'll crack," he admits. "And I think it will tickle me pink to see a lawbreaking DA in office!"

The Joker gets up from his seat and makes his way to the door. As he passes Harvey, he holds out a Joker card.

"Give Rachel my best."

The Joker's smile expands as he sees the horror on Harvey's face at the mention of Rachel Dawes. If there's one way to get under a man's skin - no matter how tough it is - threaten his lady-friend. Even if one doesn't follow through with the threat, it can be quite enjoyable to watch the other man's reaction.

Harvey glares at The Joker and refuses to take the card. So The Joker slides it into the front pocket of Harvey's shirt. And with a calm grin, The Joker lightly pats Harvey on the cheek. Dent shrinks away from the contact - which only makes the clown chuckle softly.

And with the simple press of a button, The Joker unleashes canisters of harmless green and purple gas into the room. The gas is merely a distraction so The Joker can make his getaway without Dent trying to make a move.

Harvey Dent

Christmas with the Joker, Part IV

"Son of a *****!" I shout out loud, thrashing out at nothing in particular, the smoke fogs the entire office. I start to feel a build up of utter rage building inside as I stumble blindly to the phone on my desk. I pick up the receiver and dial.

"Get me Loeb NOW!" I scream down the phone at a clearly startled operator.

"Dent? This is Loeb. What's going on?" Comes the calm, inquisitive tone from the other end.

"It's Martha, my PA. She's dead, your murderous clown friend was here. We had a nice little chat." I growled down the phone, this wasn't Loebs fault but right now I needed someone to vent on. "Where the hell was that 'protection' you offered? Out buying ****in' donuts!?"

"Oh my god, Harvey, we will have a team sent down at once. I'm damn sorry to hear about what happened but you need to calm down an-"

I felt a lump in my throat, the very physical representation of my rage. "Bit late for that! You let this man escape! Do you hear me!? You and whatever bull**** attorney he had let this man go free. WHEN you catch him, I will send him down. Got that? Nobody else is gonna prosecute this one! It'll be me!"

"Dent your gettin ahead of yourself, we need to catch the little bastard first."

I calmed down a second, the rage slowly passing.

"I know. So far you haven't done an exactly impeccable job."I sneer, gazing out the window. What I see outside causes an epiphany. A signal in the sky, a bat. "The Batman..." I think out loud.

"Dent... what?"

"Nothing, just... get someone down here to take away the mess will you." I shout, slamming the phone down. My eyes catch sight of myself in the mirror. I don't like what I see. My first breaks the glass, splintered and split down the middle...

[Green Lantern]

12/29/2007 1:05 PM, East End, Gotham City. 1354 Crime Alley. Junior Gucco's Meat Shop. Abandoned.

As the two agents pulled up to the rundown former butcher shop, Chase notices the nuances of the area. The buildings are run down, many of them boarded up. Those that aren't boarded up had shattered glass where windows once were. Just from a quick glance she counted three drug dealers and seven prostitutes. She saw junkies in the shadows, and a foul stench emanated from the scores of unwashed homeless.

"Lets get this over with. Sooner we finish here, the sooner I can take a clorox bath to feel somewhat cleaner."

"Heh, I used to feel that way too. Hate to say it, but you get used to it."

Cameron ducked under the crime scene tape and her partner did like wise. Inside they approached the officer on the scene. In front of the officer a body was hanging by a single leg over a large bucket. The body was no longer dripping any blood, but the two things most apparent to Chase, were the absence of a head on the body, and an absence of skin on the carcass. The head was on the ground near the blood filled bucket, and the skin was nowhere to be found.

"Special Agent Cameron Chase, FBI. What have you got for us, officer?"

"Same as the other eight, agent. Another member of the Etchison/Grant family lines. MO is the same too. Skinned and left hanging in a butcher shop, or slaughter house. The guys have started calling this guy the Abattoir, he kills them like cows in a slaughter."

"You're a doctor, right Agent Barrett? Lets get an autopsy on Mr. Etchison here."

"Right."

3:22 PM. Kane County Morgue.

"Evidence of severe electrical burns on the back of victim. Two circular marks, from what seems to be a cattle prod. Victim appears to have died from exsanguination. Both coronary arteries and the femoral artery of the victim have deep cuts. Removal of victims head appears to have been postmortem, as there is little blood left in the head. In the head, the tongue was removed, and found in a cooler near the body with the liver and kidneys of the victim. The remaining internal organs were removed and discarded in biohazard container near the victim's body. MO matches the at large serial killer known by many as the Abattoir Killer. No physical evidence to the identity of the killer."

As she turned off the recorder, Agent Barrett turned back to her partner.

"What did you find, Chase?"

"There are sixteen members of the Etchison family, and numerous Grant's in the local metro area. Only one member of the Grant family has been murdered. Alan... married.. to Eloise Etchison. Which really makes me rule out Grant's as potential vics. My hunch is that one of the remaining eight Etchison's is the killer. We got Elinore, Graham, Henry, Arnold, Eric, James, Bryan and Jennifer. I'm going to start calling them, and warning them."

[Catman_prb]

Alberto Falcone - There Will Be Blood

Alberto stood at the bar talking with Johnny Viti, who had just finished serving a round of drinks to a group of people in the corner. Milos Grappa was making his presense known, wandering aimlessly through the bar and looking menacing, whilst not being scary enough to frighten the customers off.

His gaze occasionally shifted to the men in the corner. They hadn't touched their drinks, and they were watching the bar. The main door opened and three men entered. From their dress and the way they walked Alberto would've said plain clothes police. They walked over to the bar and the guy who looked like he was in charge pressed his swollen, ruddy face into Johnny's.

"Who's in charge here?" he growled. Alberto put a hand on his shoulder.

"That would be me, my friend. Is there a problem here?" he said calmly, soothingly. The fist came fast, hitting him hard in the stomach and doubling him over. The other two men put a hand either side of Johnnys arm and dragged him out into the back room.

"Sofia says this is your last chance," he growled and Alberto could smell the booze on his breath. There was shouting all around the room as patrons ran out the door, but it was all like white noise to Alberto. He could hear thudding, heavy footsteps behind him, and Sofia's thug was knocked to the floor. Milos Grappa stood over him looking fierce.

"You can tell Sofia that there is no way any of us here are going to be her lapdog," he barked. There was a loud crash as the table in the corner was turned over, and the men sitting there drew machine guns out, firing wildly. Grappa grabbed Alberto and threw him behind the bar.

"They've taken Johnny out back," Alberto shouted over the noise, his eyes screwed shut. There was no reply. He opened his eyes. Milos Grappa wasn't behind the bar with him. The machine gun fire stopped. Alberto lifted his head up very slowly.

Milos Grappa lay on the floor, spread eagle with blood pouring out of the bullet hole in his head. The four men who had been at the corner table were walking very slowly towards the bar. The pistol that had been in Grappa's hand had flown across the room and was lying under a chair. Alberto crawled over on his hands and knees, graspng the smoke for the pistol. His hands clasped around it and he picked it up. He fired blindly.

There was a shout, telling him that a bullet had found its target, before the machine gun fir opened up again. Alberto leapt towards the back door, knocking it open to reveal the two thugs beating up Johnny. He pistol whipped one in the face, and shot the other in the head. It was so easy...

Johnny looked up with one swollen eye and blood pouring down his cheek.

"Where's Milos?" he asked as Alberto pulled him up by the arm.

"It doesn't matter," he said, his voice catching slightly. He could hear the men coming to the door; probably some of Mario's goons. He grabbed Johnny Viti by the arm and pulled him towards the sedan.

"But I thought the Black Ace was neutral?" Johnny gasped, blood pouring down his lips.

"Well it's not any more is it Johnny?" he shouted, panting slightly.

"What happens now?" Johnny croaked.

"There will be blood. That I promise," he said through gritted teeth.

[SenseiofCheese]

Victor Zsasz

Jolene Harper.
She's very pretty. In fact, I probably would have bedded her in my previous life. Her blond, wavy hair reaches down to her shoulders. Even looking at it makes your fingers tingle in anticipation of running them through it. Her eyes are every bit as blue as the ocean. The kind of blue that makes you lose yourself in thought. The kind of blue that's a bit dark but seems to lighten everything up. Her nose truly defines 'cute as a button'. Her lips, a soft pink, look as soft as bubblegum. When she talks, her voice burrows into ones heart and makes one feel that something so beautiful shouldn't live in a world so filthy.
Her skin, her soft, soft porcelain skin, offers no resistance to my sharpened blade as I slide it in between her ribs.

Her blood pumps out in a slow rythm, warming my hand as it calmly drips down to the ground. Her gasps of gratitude warm my heart as her blood warms my body.

"You are free, now." I whisper softly in her ear, as my other hand reaches up and wipes the tears from her eyes. Her hands grab my shirt when I slowly pull the knife out of her body. Her knees buckle, but I support her weight. She is free now. It's time for my salvation.

My hand finds the strand of rope I had laid on the table beside me and grabs it tightly. The blade in my hand rests against her long, slender neck. With a movement as silent as the night outside, the knife slides from one end to the other, ripping her neck open.
Her gasps die down as her eyes roll up in her head. "You're welcome."
I pull on the rope. Her entire body turns upside down as it gets pulled up into the air.
Suspended in the air above me, her body swings back and forth. Underneath, I slowly close my eyes and let her blood fall down on me. Clean me.

I calmly bring the knife up to my chest and carve into my skin, next to three other identical incisions.

Jolene Harper. The fourth I have saved, of many to come.

[Apprentice]

IC: RACHEL DAWES

The apartment - if it could even be credited as such - was dingy, dirty, and to Rachel, downright disgusting. With an exasperated sigh, she settled the small duffel bag of roughly-packed clothes to the floor and slowly wandered further into the musty-scented chamber, which strongly resembled a small series of catacombs; furniture was sparse, scattered around the living room and consisting of a rickety table, a rusting television stand, and a cupboard for toiletries. Her brow crinkled as she probed the sofa with one hand, marking her palm with dust whose hue had been darkened by neglect. Renee Montoya closed the door firmly, sliding the locks into place, and Rachel suddenly felt as though she were trapped. The policewoman must have sensed her ward's discomfort, as she shot her an irked glance before retrieving a small metallic decanter of whiskey and swilling it into a glass.

"I'm sorry it isn't up to your usual standards, your Eminence," Montoya half-growled, before taking a swig from the amber liquid. "I'm afraid we can't afford penthouse suites."

"Well, if I suspected you had a problem with me before, that pretty much confirms it." Rachel reluctantly plopped down onto the sofa, eliciting a short sharp blast of filth from beneath the cushions.

Montoya chuckled somewhat maliciously, her gaze burrowing into her drink. "I cannot believe I got stuck with this assignment. Seriously."

Rachel pinched the bridge of her nose and kneaded it carefully, attempting to assuage the headache that was hammering through skull. "You're not the one that has to put up with you. This isn't much fun for me either, you know. Three weeks in a hospital, and then discharged into protective custody with an embittered woman who clearly doesn't like me and drinks on the job." She eyed her companion, pleased with her retort. "Seriously."

"I'm not gonna go tee-total just because I have to babysit a spoilt rich kid from the Wayne playpen," Montoya shot back. "If you getting attacked again means you losing your cosy little job up in the DA Office, then I'm all for it."

Rachel rose to her feet, curling her fingers into tight, defiant fists. "You have no idea how much worse this city would be if I hadn't put my heart and soul into helping it."

"Oh, stop it. This 'tough chick' act doesn't fool anybody. And neither do your declarations about how much you've done to save Gotham." Montoya paused, driving a mouthful of alcohol around her mouth with her tongue. "You don't know how bad this hellhole of a town truly is. You read it in the newspapers, you watch it from your high horse, but you don't know it."

"I'm in this situation because I was beaten half to death by mobsters that I helped to take down!" Rachel protested.

"Because you drew attention to yourself. You asked for it."

Rachel swallowed hard, before grinding her teeth together and taking a step towards the other. "So, for trying to keep the citizens safe, I deserve to be viciously assaulted?"

"Stop deluding yourself! You're not keeping people safe! Pushing a pen around a sheet of paper that will just get tossed in the trash by a corrupt judge is not keeping people safe!" Montoya was enraged now, gripping the sides of the table and clenching it tightly. "It's people like me and Gordon and Bullock, the ones who patrol the streets and throw themselves in the line of fire, we're the ones helping people!"

"And once you catch them, you expect to just stick them in Arkham or in a jail cell and let them rot? Who do you think gets them there, or, more importantly, keeps them there?!"

"Harvey Dent. The Commish. Anyone that doesn't come from money. Anyone that can't get a million dollars wired into their bank account from Bruce Wayne at the drop of a hat." She swallowed the last of the whiskey. "You can't help people that you can't relate to, Miss Dawes."

"Don't you dare suggest that my life has been an easy ride! This city has treated me just as badly as it has you and every other clean cop," Rachel exclaimed, gesticulating wildly as she spoke. "You're not a unique sob story, Detective. Get over it."

Montoya's lips parted, but her following words were drowned out by a rapping of knuckles against the door. She was instantly on her feet, pistol in hand; Rachel fell back behind the sofa and pushed back a stray hair. The door swung open, revealing a trio of tall, broad-shouldered men attired in heavy coats and expensive suits. Rachel gulped inaudibly, the pain of her injuries flashing through her as their appearance raised memories of her perpetrators on the fire escape.

"Hey, pretty lady," the first man greeted softly. "We're looking for a Miss Rachel Dawes."

Damn. Our location was leaked already. Montoya shook her head vehemently. "Sorry, wrong address."

The thug pressed forward threateningly. "You know that's not the answer I wanted to --"

"I'm here." The expression was fuelled almost by instinct, but Rachel took no time to ponder the rationality of it as she snapped to a standing position and strode over to Montoya's side. "Let me guess. Moxon wanted me finished off this time?"

"Stupid *****," Montoya muttered under her breath, readying herself to whip her pistol into range and squeeze the trigger.

"Wise move, doll," the enforcer chuckled. "And Mist'r Moxon would've sent Pablo and his guys again, but after what you did to 'em last time...well, let's just say we're lucky you ain't got any pepper spray or bullets on ya now, huh?"

Rachel's lips curved into a small smile. "You underestimate me. All these years I've been in Gotham, and you thought I'd never been to a self-defence class?" In a swift, fluid movement, she drove her knee upwards between his legs and swept up Montoya's empty glass. Before he could retaliate, she slammed the glass into his face; it shattered and he tumbled, a swift blow to the head silencing his cries as he fell. The second darted forward, but Rachel slipepd to the side and hooked her foot around his ankle. He careened into the table, which promptly collapsed atop him. Even as he scrambled free of the wooden debris, Montoya span to gun down their last remaining opponent; Rachel, though, seized her firearm and whipped it butt-first across his face. He slumped across the unconscious form of his 'leader' as the assistant district attorney turned and jammed the gun into the now half-standing gangster's stomach.

Montoya drew her fist back and felled him with a hard, simple strike. "That was...the supidest thing I've ever seen."

"Well, I doubt you've ever seen a spoilt little rich girl fight like that. Maybe that even counts as 'throwing myself into the line of fire'." Rachel gathered her duffel bag into her arms and stalked down the hallway, stepping over the incapacitated criminals. "I think I've got a better chance of staying alive away from the police force. Don't worry...I'll make sure those guys get prosecuted. But right now, I've got a fundraiser to attend."

[MST3K 4ever]

Oswald sits with his Chief of Security going over tapes of bugged converstations in the Iceberg Lounge.

Oswald says, "Edward my boy there is plenty of information here we can use in the mob wars. Make sure that you sources know that I have this information and I will be more than willing to share my information for the right price of course."

Edward nods and says, "I will have the information out before tomorrow night's opening of business."

Oswald says, "I want it done midnight not a minute later. The people who want this sort of information won't wait long for it."

Edward nods and says, "We are looking at some serious overtime at that rate."

Oswald stands up and snickers and says, " I will add another 0 to your pay check this week and call it even."

Edward says, "At that rate expect it out within the hour."

Oswald nods and leaves.

[Byrd Man]

http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t302/BatmanRPG/One%20Year%20Later/batlogo.gif

Wayne Manor

Alfred looks at me in the mirror as I finish with my tuxedo tie.

"Something wrong?"

"No, sir. I'm just reveling in your discomfort."

I shake my head as I finish with my tux and turn to Alfred.

"Everything set?"

"Of course."

I make my way from my walk-in closet and out towards the massive foyer at the front of the house with Alfred right behind me.

Alfred's wants a show. I'll give him a show.

"Very well then. Let the party begin."

"Quite so."

[Eddie Brock]

http://i166.photobucket.com/albums/u118/EBJ05/RPG%20Banners/Joker.gif

The Joker had heard about Harvey's party. Word travels fast in Gotham, and there's very little that the madman doesn't know about - a scary, but true, reality. The Joker felt full of glee as he imagined so many targets in one place. It was a perfect time to make his influence known to those who were still surprisingly ignorant.

Too many people regarded The Joker as just a killer. But he was so much more! He was an artist - painting with his victims' blood. He was a musician - orchestrating a symphony of screams. He was an idol - one that Gotham would come to respect...or else. Though killing was The Joker's pastime, his goals reached far higher into the sky.

Batman's intervention had left the criminal underworld in shambles. The fall of Falcone created a huge hole for someone new to take control of organized crime. And though others like Maroni had long pined for such an opportunity, The Joker would not rest until his gang reigned supreme. Once The Joker had seized control of crime, he would inevitably seize control over Gotham itself.

Gotham would fall, with many more cities to follow it. The Joker and his men would work their way up to Washington D.C. Then, with America safely in hand, The Joker would turn the country - and subsequently the world - into his own playground. And soon, everyone would subscribe to one philosophy - The Joker's!

It would be a perfect, crazy world.

But first, The Joker needed to concentrate on the task at hand. He had stalked his elusive prey for some time. But now, he needed to catch this man before the party. For The Joker - though he'd never admit it - needed help.

Help from...

"Jonathan Crane," The Joker hissed as he approached his target. Tonight, the goal was not murder. Crane could prove to be useful.

Crane was instantly distressed at his pursuer's appearance. Crane had heard about The Joker, but ever since the Narrows incident, Crane had fled from Gotham until he could perfect his plan. Crane, as well as so many others, was disgusted by The Joker's strategy. Likewise, he came to fear the madman.

Crane stumbled out of his chair and raced out of the restaurant where he was previously staying. The Joker smiled as his prey took off. The chase was on.

Crane needed only a minute to get his gas ready. He had been caught off-guard, and it had frightened him.

"You know," The Joker begins as he methodically stalks Crane down a dark alleyway, "I'm a big fan, Jonathan. Or is it Scarecrow? A man such as myself can appreciate the humor of a psychopath running the madhouse."

Crane scrambled frantically for a small canister. Once he found it, he ducked behind a wall and panted slowly. He waited patiently until The Joker turned the corner. Then, Crane popped out and unleashed his 'Fear Gas' on his attacker.

"Feel fear surround you!"

Something happened after that frightened Crane more than anything he had experienced before. The Joker merely stared at Crane with a dull expression. Much to Jonathan's horror, his gas had no effect on The Joker.

If that was true, then what horrors was this man truly capable of?

The Joker seemingly ignored Crane's outburst as he continued, "You're something of a chemist. I am too, you see." The Joker motioned to his makeup. "Smear-free! However, my skills are not adept enough for my next trick. I require someone of your expertise."

Crane was cornered. He had nowhere to run, his gas was useless, and Crane had no physical prowess to brag about. Crane received a natural dose of his own medicine - fear.

"W-w-what do you want?" Crane asked nervously, his voice cracking.

The Joker leaned in and smiled. "Come. Let's talk."

[Gallagher]

Harvey Dent

Invitation to a Party, Part I

The Next Day:

My head was still swirling from the events of the previous evening. The madman's reckless slaughter of innocent people still fresh in my mind. Still, Harvey Dent isn't so easily defeated. I had a party to attend.

I sat in the back of my black sedan the driver whistles as we enter the grounds of Wayne Manor. "Not gonna be too crowded thats for sure." He quipped as we drove up the path and stopped outside the grand double doors.

"Thanks Geoff." I smile as I hop out of the vehicle and smooth my self over, I felt a slight pang of guilt wearing such an expensive suit to a 'fund raiser' but appearance in my line of work is everything. People are fickle.

The hired help opened the doors for me as I entered the enormous hall of Wayne Manor. I spot the host on the other side of the room.

"Mr Wayne." I call out.

[Eddie Brock]

IC: RED HOOD

I hate Gotham City. Let's get this out of the way before we get to anything else. My loathing of this rotten pit of human wasteland is unmatched by any of its residents. It's the most crooked, corrupt city in the entire world. Harlem, Camden, East Saint Louis - Hell, even Hub City - all pale in comparison to this barren tundra of crime and evil.

Now, let's get to my life story. I promise it'll be mildly interesting. I wish I could tell you about my father, but that good-for-nothing deadbeat got the Hell out of here when he found out my mother was pregnant. Oh! My mother! She's a trip! Nothing but a lousy meth-addict who slept with half of the male population in Gotham. It's no wonder the **** got pregnant. I'm not sure if she stopped doing drugs during her pregnancy. Knowing how stupid she was, she probably didn't. Maybe it's why I'm so f**ked up. Who knows?

Anyway, big surprise, Mom ditched me. You can't afford diapers and crystal meth, so guess who got the short end of the stick? As if that wasn't bad enough, the whore didn't even care enough to take me to an orphanage or whatever. She just left me on the streets.

I was seven years old. And she left me to fend for myself on the dirty, dangerous streets of the world's most depressing city. Wonderful woman, wasn't she?

Well, it's been a little over ten years, but it feels like a damn century. I've done a lot of things that a normal person would be horrified at. But when you're starving and cold, your convictions tend to go out the window. I'm not saying I'm proud of any of it, but survival instincts come first. It only took three years alone to realize that I needed a knife. So what did I do? I beat the s*** out of a guy and took his knife.

I won't go into further detail. No, I didn't kill him, but I'd rather not talk about what came next.

Many times I've had to pull that knife. When you're a 'helpless' teenager on the street, you instantly become a target. The only way to protect yourself is to make others fear you. And if that means fighting dirty, so be it. You have to do whatever it takes to survive.

Well, I'm done with 'memory lane.' I think you get the point. My life may be horrible, but it's merely a product of my environment.

Not anymore.

Batman has changed things, sure. But he's afraid to take every step necessary. So are the cops, but what else is new? Someone has to protect this city and all the scumbags in it. Yeah, they may be scumbags, but they're innocent scumbags. Not like the scumbags I'm going to hunt. The men I'm after deserve everything I give them - and more.

Criminals may fear The Knight, but soon...they'll be seeing red.

[Eddie Brock]

http://i166.photobucket.com/albums/u118/EBJ05/RPG%20Banners/Joker.gif

The Joker's encounter with Scarecrow soon comes to an end. The Clown Prince of Crime has received what he's asked for, and he leaves his horrified accomplice alone. There's no reason to kill Crane - not now, anyway. Besides, if there's anything wrong with the first batch, The Joker will need Crane alive to try again. However, The Joker still feels overjoyed by the fact that Crane will have trouble sleeping for the next few nights.

Now, The Joker needs to make sure that his new weapon is effective. So he decides to visit an old friend, John Jenks. Jenks is a one-time supplier of unique weapons for The Joker - such as the Killer Jack-in-the-Box. But Jenks is a cowardly fool, and he almost spilled the beans on The Joker's operation. He'll make a perfect test subject.

Jenks, like so many before him, found himself reluctantly in the employment of The Joker. Money talks, but it practically screams when the alternative is death. With a blade to his throat, and a well-paying job offer on the table, Jenks agreed to make whatever The Joker needed. It was a decision that he still harbors guilt for.

Jenks was working quietly in his warehouse. He always was a loner - something that would betray him on this night. As he toiled away, creating a custom machine gun, he heard someone enter the warehouse.

"Johnny? Heeeeeeeeeeeeeere's JOKER!" the madman calls out, making his presence known.

The sound of that voice sends chills down Jenks' spine. "Leave me alone!" he calls out, pleading for his life. Jenks scrambles, looking for something to protect himself with. For a weapon manufacturer, he has trouble finding anything. His heartbeat begins to race.

The Joker continues to walk forward in his personal staggering style. The Joker quite enjoys the hunt, and he really enjoys slowly approaching his prey. Tension makes the kill more satisfying.

"I need one final favor from you, Johnny. And then you will be free from my services," The Joker promises. He stealthily reaches into his pocket and wraps his gloved fingers around the small canister.

Jenks calls out in desperation, "What? What is it?"

The Joker wraps his palm around the concealed metal container. "I simply need you to breathe," he hisses softly as he breaks open the canister on the floor in front of him.

A hideous purple gas begins to fill the room. The Joker merely stands, soaking it all in. His natural immunity to Fear Gas carries over into this new creation.

"What is this? I feel..."

"Strange?"

Jenks begins to cough as he nods. Suddenly, his coughing becomes more violent. What comes after, however, is infinitely more terrifying.

"Heh. Heh heh. Hehe. Ha. Haha. Hahaha. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

The Joker stares on in admiration as his victim breaks down into uncontrollable fits of laughter. Jenks looks up to see his attacker. The look in Jenks' eyes screams utter fear - which contrasts eerily with the unnaturally large smile on his face. Finally, one silent tear runs down Jenks' face as his laughing ceases and his smile freezes. And like that, he collapses on the floor - a smile permanently formed on his dead face.

"Batch 1: Success. Now, if you'll excuse me, Johnny - I have a party to get ready for!"

[Eddie Brock]

IC: LIEUTENANT GORDON

"Hold still," Barbara commands. I reluctantly steady myself so she can put the finishing touches on my bowtie. When she's done, she takes a step back, examines it, and happily states, "There! The world will never know that James Gordon can't tie his own bowtie."

It feels a little tight, so I loosen it slightly. I pull on the lapels of my jacket and straighten everything out. "How do I look?"

"Like the day I married you," Barbara replies with a smile. "Same mustache and everything."

"Give Babs and Jimmy my best," I request. I grab my car keys as I prepare for the drive to Wayne Manor for this fancy party.

Barbara frowns. "Do you have to go, Jim?" she pleads. Oh, how I wish I could oblige. But there are important matters to be dealt with tonight.

"Honey, I want to show my support for Harvey Dent," I remind my wife, "He's one of the few honest politicians. With him on the courts and Batman in the streets, Gotham may actually become a safer place."

"I suppose so," she sighs. I know she supports my endless crusade, but I can see where it interferes with our love life. "But is it so wrong that I want to spend the night with my husband?" she asks while absent-mindedly running her fingers down my coat.

"You were welcome to come," I explain to her again. I don't know why I try - her response is always the same.

"No, thank you. A lavish party at Bruce Wayne's mansion? The amounts of snobbishness and gluttony you will encounter there..."

I smile. My wife never desired the 'rich' life. She despised those pretentious millionaire types. Though, from what I've seen, we can trust Mr. Wayne - even if he acts a little wild and irrational from time-to-time.

"It's an occupational hazard, darling. I'll be back by midnight."

And I hold the car keys in my hand as I make my way out the door. Here's hoping I can survive being in a room with so many artsy-fartsy people for the night.

[Harlekin]

AT THE PARTY

“Susan! Such a delight!” the man and the woman called Susan kiss each other on the cheek as they meet. Another man stands to the sight, taking a slow drag from his cigarette.
“Who’s your companion?” she asks, her voice a little huskily.
“Oh, this? This is Floyd… Floyd, really sorry dear chap, what did you say your name was?”
“Floyd. Floyd Lawton.”
“A pleasure to meet you. Susan Gayle,” the woman says as she extends her hand. Like a true gentleman, Floyd Lawton bows down to kiss it, but the boredom can be plainly read from his face as he does so. Susan either doesn’t notice or ignores it as she suppresses a giggle.

* * *

“This is Alan Scott, from Gotham Broadcasting, I’m sure you’ve… heard of him!” the man exclaims, already laughing at his own joke before delivering it. As a courtesy, the men around him laugh along, their boisterous laughs echoing throughout the room.
“You slay me, Tony, really.”
“So…” the man pauses for a moment to choose his words carefully. “Scott, what do you think of these madmen running around on the streets today? It seems like you have an endless supply of news.”
“That’s not particularly something I enjoy, Westwood,” Alan Scott replies, and Westwood can’t help but take a step back. “They need to lock these men up and throw away the key.”
“You don’t think they can be rehabilitated?”
“Son, take this from an old horse: Men like that are as sane as they’ll ever be.”

* * *

“What do you think, Chase, really?”
“I think Harvey will make a fine DA,” Adrian Chase responds, taking another sip from his glass. He’s been asked the same question twenty times in the same amount of minutes. Already, he’s tiring of the fake smiles and conversations. He wants to go home, to his family.

* * *

“What do you think, Harry? We in for a boring night?” Gary Washington asks as he looks at the cameras again. Parked just outside the Wayne estate, the black van attracts a few of the curious, but none dare actually approach the vehicle. A few miniature cameras screen each of the visitors as they approach the gate, looking out for suspicious faces and stolen cars.
“Chances are we’ll get a few celebrity snapshots, but that’s it,” Harry Stein replies as he leans back in his chair, putting his feet onto the desk. “Just another boring night at Wayne manor.”

[Cyrusbales]

[?] THE RIDDLER [?]


A discarded newspaper sat atop an oak table, it’s owner disgusted by the level of impetuousness displayed by his adversaries. Leaving a note for a killer in the tabloid? What response did they expect? He was not interested in being the mouse, this was his game to prey as the cat, they should have known that by now, but it seemed he’d have to show them again.

The reaction to this attempt at interaction seemed uncharacteristic as the man paced across the green carpet, muttering curses under his breath. No-one had ever taken much concern or notice of his intellectual musings before, now these people thought they could ‘understand him’ by poising him an ambiguous question?

“All of Gotham City knows them!” He sneers out of the side of his mouth in disgust.

“But they do not know all of Gotham City”, spitting out a few more words in repulsion.

“Who are they?”

His mocking tone would be obvious to even the most ignorant of people, it was clear he was not pleased in the slightest.

“Where’s the syllogistic structure? Where’s the manipulation of language?”

Unable to continue the rant out of pure frustration, he suddenly pauses in thought. A horrific smile turns up the sides of his lips.

“You like riddles do you…..”

[MST3K 4ever]

Oswald sits at his desk as Felton Michaels owner of the Palomino Club and Michaels industries comes storming into his office. His bodyguards stand in front of Oswald but Oswald uses his umbrella to gently push his guards aside.

He says, "Gentlemen while I applaud your willingness to protect me I have been expecting Mr. Michaels. If you would be so kind as to wait outside and see to it that no one disturbs us at this time. Oh and Terrence see when the next time the fish are to be fed."

Terrence nods and leaves with the other bodyguard.

Oswald looks at Michaels and says, "Please have a seat Felton. Can I offer you a beverage of some sort?"

Fleton growls and says, "I'll settle for your head on a platter Cobblepot."

Oswald arches an eyebrow slightly and says, "Why Felton I detect a sense of hostility towards me? Whatever for?"
Felton says, "You know damn well why I'm hostile!"

Oswald says, "Ahh yes that matter about me taking over your club and your company. I assure that it is all perfectly legal and any lawyer in Gotham would tell you that as well. Your company is a publicly traded company and I bought out the remaining shares and also several of your other stockholders were willing to sell to me as well. It is all perfectly legal and smart business as well. Your club is in a prime location and I have no intention of dismmising anyone on the staff either. Your company is a consistent Fortune 500 company and is expected to see serious gorwth over the next year thanks to those contracts you locked up in Japan and England."

He lights a cigarette and takes a drag on it.

Oswald then says,"I am just looking to make some minor changes, such as appointing your ex-wife to the board of directors and making her my executive C-E-O and manager of the club. Those changes I am assuming you are so hostile about. Don't worry I full intend to be nothing more than a silent partner your ex-wife will be the one running day to day operations."

Felton says, "None of my keys work or access codes for that matter. My staff has been told to ignore me Cobblepot I built that company from the ground up and I'll be damned before I let you and that gold-digging b**** steal it from me."

Oswald says, "Again Felton such language I don't know how much more I can take. As I stated previously everything is prefectly legal you don't have a single legal leg to stand on in this matter. The only left for me to say is...you're fired."

Felton stands up and pulls out a gun and says, "Screw you Cobblepot. This gun has no numbers on it or anything I kill you no way it ever gets traced back to me."

Just then the bodyguards re-enter and quickly disarm Felton. He struggles a bit and says, "All-right you win Oswald. Let me go and I'll leave Gotham."

Oswald chuckles a bit and says, "Oh my dear Felton that boat has already sailed. Terrence when are the fish due to be fed next?"

He replies, "In the next twenty minutes."

Oswald says, "Well I have noticed that lately they have looked a bit under-nourished. Go ahead and feed them there usual meal and make sure Mr. Michaels joins them for their feeding as well."

Felton's eyes grow wide and says, "No you can't do that. Please Oswald...have mercy on me..please!"

Oswald says, "Felton, Felton mercy is a gift from God. He is merciful beyond words that however is a character flaw I do not share."
He nods at Terrence and Felton is dragged from the office screaming.

Oswald looks at the other bodyguard and says, "Harold see to it that Felton's car is disposed of in a proper manner. Then you and Terrence of cleaning up the tank in time for business tonight."
Harold nods and leaves.

Oswald picks up the phone and calls Felton's ex-wife.

He says, "Hello Oliva this is Oswald Cobblepot...delightful thank you very much...I just thought I would inform you that I have followed through on my end of our deal...yes yes Felton will never trouble you again and the information you gave me about the company will be most useful..."

[Byrd Man]

"Mr Wayne." I call out.

I've made my way through the party, putting on my act and socializing with everyone. Dent calls out to me and I smile.

"There he is, the man of the hour. Harvey!"

We shake hands and I pat him on the back.

"Eat up and drink as much booze as you can, it's on my tab afterall."

I laugh and take a giant gulp of the club soda in my hand that looks like champagne.

[Gallagher]

I've made my way through the party, putting on my act and socializing with everyone. Dent calls out to me and I smile.

"There he is, the man of the hour. Harvey!"

We shake hands and I pat him on the back.

"Eat up and drink as much booze as you can, it's on my tab afterall."

I laugh and take a giant gulp of the club soda in my hand that looks like champagne.

Harvey Dent

Invitation to a Party, Part II

"I have to thank you again for doing this Bruce." I say reaching for the no-doubt incredibly expensive Champagne. "Your a great help, and a good man. Hopefully one day I can pay you back somehow. Lord knows I owe you one."

[Byrd Man]

Harvey Dent

Invitation to a Party, Part II

"I have to thank you again for doing this Bruce." I say reaching for the no-doubt incredibly expensive Champagne. "Your a great help, and a good man. Hopefully one day I can pay you back somehow. Lord knows I owe you one."

I force a laugh that makes me almost hate myself.

"Ha! Harvey, you want to repay me? Do it by being the best DA Gotham has ever seen."

I place my hand on his shoulder, my face get's serious as the playboy persona vanishes.

"I believe in Gotham CIty too, Mr. Dent. I also believe in Harvey Dent."

[Gallagher]

I force a laugh that makes me almost hate myself.

"Ha! Harvey, you want to repay me? Do it by being the best DA Gotham has ever seen."

I place my hand on his shoulder, my face get's serious as the playboy persona vanishes.

"I believe in Gotham CIty too, Mr. Dent. I also believe in Harvey Dent."

Harvey Dent

Invitation to a Party, Part III

I notice a visible change in the young Wayne's demeanor and attitude. Frankly it was startling. I look him in the eyes and see the same fire that drives me.

"Thanks for your support Bruce." I say with a genuine smile and a pat on the shoulder. "So, what's your take on the Batman situation? Nutball? Or genuine help?"

[Byrd Man]

Harvey Dent

Invitation to a Party, Part III

I notice a visible change in the young Wayne's demeanor and attitude. Frankly it was startling. I look him in the eyes and see the same fire that drives me.

"Thanks for your support Bruce." I say with a genuine smile and a pat on the shoulder. "So, what's your take on the Batman situation? Nutball? Or genuine help?"


I laugh, putting my defenses back up.

"Like I told my friends when this whacko showed up, a guy who dresses as a bat clearly has issues. But he's doing good in Gotham. I hope he gets the nicest cell in Arkham when they catch him."

[Gallagher]

I laugh, putting my defenses back up.

"Like I told my friends when this whacko showed up, a guy who dresses as a bat clearly has issues. But he's doing good in Gotham. I hope he gets the nicest cell in Arkham when they catch him."

Harvey Dent

Invitation to a Party, Part IV

I smiled and nodded. "My sentiments exactly. But as long as theres people like this... Joker... around, we may need extreme examples. Oh god, I'm sorry Mr Wayne here I am boring you with my ramblings. Enjoy the party. It's on you after all." I laugh as we part ways. "Time to mingle." I say as I chuckle, determined to enjoy myself for once.

[Eddie Brock]

IC: LIEUTENANT GORDON

I finally arrive at Wayne's swanky party, and I feel myself sigh as I make my way up the steps to the front door. The place is already packed, and I can hear the noise from out here. God help me survive tonight.

After entering the door, I am approached by a British man - the butler, I presume. "Excuse me, sir, but can I take your coat?" he asks politely.

I grip onto my trenchcoat. "No, thank you," I respond equally politely. Call it paranoia, call it cautiousness - but I like to keep my coat on me. I carry my badge and gun in there when I'm off-duty, and I like to be prepared for everything.

And with so many high-profile guests tonight, I don't think it's entirely unreasonable to be safe. There's no limit on how many people want to see Harvey - and others like him - dead.

[Harlekin]

http://img139.imageshack.us/img139/838/bannerua8.gif

“A man that doesn't spend time with his family can never be a real man.”
~ The Godfather (1972)

“He isn’t responding. I knew this was a longshot,” Del Arrazio angrily says as he slams down a copy of the Gotham Gazette on his desk. It’s the second day they’ve printed the ad with the riddle, calling out the Riddler. There’s been no response.
“Give it time,” his partner, Joely Bartlett replies as she smiles and looks up at him. “Guys like this, they’ve got a modus operandi. These riddles are important to him. He’ll respond.”
“What we should be doing is tracking him down!” Del Arrazio replies, exasperated with the case.
“How?”

Del Arrazio sighs. His partner is right. There are no leads.

“We can’t let him keep doing this, Joe,” he says as he looks to her. It’s obvious he hasn’t had a good night’s sleep in a few days now.
“I know.”



“I know.”

[Gallagher]

Harvey Dent

Invitation to a Party, Part V

"...And so I said to the 'Rabbi, Hey, Why not just cut it down?'" Everyone laughed at my corny jokes and playful anecdotes. Some genuine, some false. I grin at them all as I squint toward the doors, looking for more people to bore. Someone catches my eye. "Excuse me ladies and gentlemen. Have a great night."

IC: LIEUTENANT GORDON

I finally arrive at Wayne's swanky party, and I feel myself sigh as I make my way up the steps to the front door. The place is already packed, and I can hear the noise from out here. God help me survive tonight.

After entering the door, I am approached by a British man - the butler, I presume. "Excuse me, sir, but can I take your coat?" he asks politely.

I grip onto my trenchcoat. "No, thank you," I respond equally politely. Call it paranoia, call it cautiousness - but I like to keep my coat on me. I carry my badge and gun in there when I'm off-duty, and I like to be prepared for everything.

And with so many high-profile guests tonight, I don't think it's entirely unreasonable to be safe. There's no limit on how many people want to see Harvey - and others like him - dead.




"Lieutennent Gordon!" I say practically jogging over to the man. He looked on edge, from what I've heard he always does. "Harvey Dent." I say shaking his hand. "I've heard so much about you."

[Apprentice]

IC: RACHEL DAWES

Rachel took the time to rush back to her apartment and don a silky scarlet dress before signalling a taxi and directing it towards Wayne Manor. Although she usually enjoyed engaging the driver in light, empty comversation, she ensured that the journey was a silent one. Her body ached and throbbed as a result of her previously sustained injuries and the impromptu combat that she had thrown herself into. Her skills had been honed only by several year-old self-defence classes and minimal training from Lieutenant Gordon, both of which had only led her to success in the brawl due to the surprise element. The thugs had into expected her to strike first, and neither had Montoya; even though her muscles were sore and weary, the Assistant District Attorney was pleased that she had made her point.

The automobile halted at the back of a small queue of cars within the gates of the Wayne Estate. Rachel politely thanked the driver, pressed a number of crinkled green bills into his palm, and slipped out of her seat, her stilettos indenting themselves into the gravel as she walked. Clutching her purse close to her chest and drawing a translucent red shawl around her shoulders, she ascended the oh-so-familiar stone steps and followed a trail of guests into the foyer. There, an assemblage of freshly-dressed staff awaited, their black-and-white garments perfectly straight and neat. A young man moved to Rachel's side within moments, politely enquiring as to her needs. Her lips parted as she began to reply, only for an aged Englishman, also impeccably attired in a tuxedo, to interject.

"I'll assist this particular guest, Jonathan," Alfred Pennyworth said softly.

As the waiter nodded and turned away, Rachel smiled warmly. "Alfred. It's good to see you."

"And you, Miss," Alfred responded, reaching around to remove her shawl. As he began to carefully fold it, he remarked, "I'm terribly sorry to hear about your ghastly attack. I came to visit, but a brisk young policewoman informed me that you were in protective custody."

Rachel reached up and tapped her nose in a mock conspiratorial manner. "I'm still supposed to be. Sh!"

A lopsided grin tugged at Alfred's lips. "I won't tell a soul about your great escape." He paused. "You know...Master Bruce was intending on seeing you himself, in the hospital. It's just that he's been very busy."

"You don't have to make his excuses for him, Alfred. I understand." Rachel squeezed her companion's shoulder reassuringly.

Alfred's brow furrowed. "Exuses? Never!" His smirk returned. "I could've said that he was off..." He glanced about, and seeing that the hubbub of the guests was drowning out their conversation, continued. "...taking care of those nasty men that attacked you. But you did a good enough number on them yourself, eh?"

"Yes. It was all very Calamity Jane of me," Rachel quipped, chuckling. "Of course, it took a pretty heavy toll on me, too."

Alfred took her hands in his own, his rough-hewn skin brushing against her own. "If there's anything I - or, Master Bruce, for that matter - can do for you, don't hesitate to ask."

"Thanks, Alfred," she murmured genuinely, befofre excusing herself and blending into the crowd. She felt a hand close over her shoulder and span, startled by the sensation. "Oh!"

"Sorry to scare you!" Adrian Chase exclaimed, embracing his colleague excitedly. "It's great to see you back on your feet, Rachel!"

"I've missed you, Adrian," Rachel admitted, honesty filling her tone. "I really wanna have a long chat with you about everything that's been happening at the office, but I need to show my face to the boss first. You know how it is."

"I certainly do." Adrian leaned across to her and planted a gentle kiss on her cheek. "Hurry back."

As he fell back into the general throng, Rachel reached up and proved her cheek with an errant digit. "Well..."

"Rachel? Aren't you supposed to be in protective custody?"

The voice caused Rachel to turn to face its owner - "Bruce!"

[Byrd Man]

The voice caused Rachel to turn to face its owner - "Bruce!"

"Rachel!"

Rachel Dawes is my oldest friend and one of the few people who know about my double life.

We hug for a brief moment. The over acting is part of my act, and she knows this, but I am really revleaved to see her again.

"I heard about your recent run in with the Moxon Family's goons."

My voice drops down to a slight whisper. To everyone else, my voice is being drowned out by the noises of the party. But Rachel can hear me well.

"I promise you, I'll bring The Moxon's to justice for this."

As well as being my friend, she's also my connection into the Gotham DA's office and sometimes, even The Batman needs help.

"So, what's the good word in the DA's office?"

[Apprentice]

"Rachel!"

Rachel Dawes is my oldest friend and one of the few people who know about my double life.[/left]

We hug for a brief moment. The over acting is part of my act, and she knows this, but I am really revleaved to see her again.

"I heard about your recent run in with the Moxon Family's goons."

My voice drops down to a slight whisper. To everyone else, my voice is being drowned out by the noises of the party. But Rachel can hear me well.

"I promise you, I'll bring The Moxon's to justice for this."

As well as being my friend, she's also my connection into the Gotham DA's office and sometimes, even The Batman needs help.

"So, what's the good word in the DA's office?"

Rachel removed herself from Bruce's firm grasp, her brow furrowed; the millionaire's ignorance had insulted her, and her injuries seemed to throb even harder. "How would you expect me to know? I was in hospital for three weeks, Bruce, and then thrown into protective custody which I just escaped. This begs the question: did you know all that and just figured that I'd keep in touch with the goings-on at the office?" She paused, ensuring that her tone was cheery and airy enough so as not to attract the atention of the other partygoers. "Or have you been so wrapped up in that big mask of yours that I'm not important enough to get through?"

[Byrd Man]

Rachel removed herself from Bruce's firm grasp, her brow furrowed; the millionaire's ignorance had insulted her, and her injuries seemed to throb even harder. "How would you expect me to know? I was in hospital for three weeks, Bruce, and then thrown into protective custody which I just escaped. This begs the question: did you know all that and just figured that I'd keep in touch with the goings-on at the office?" She paused, ensuring that her tone was cheery and airy enough so as not to attract the atention of the other partygoers. "Or have you been so wrapped up in that big mask of yours that I'm not important enough to get through?"

"I-I knew about your stay in the hospital...I keep on telling myself I would go visit, but I never managed to make time. I'm truly sorry for that."

I look into Rachel's eyes, I can't escape her steely grasp.

"I know I can't make up for it, but is there something I could do to show you how sorry I am?"

[Apprentice]

"I-I knew about your stay in the hospital...I keep on telling myself I would go visit, but I never managed to make time. I'm truly sorry for that."

I look into Rachel's eyes, I can't escape her steely grasp.

"I know I can't make up for it, but is there something I could do to show you how sorry I am?"

Rachel bowed her head, and an exasperated sigh escaped her lips. "I understand that the city needs you. I know that, and I know what I said to you when you were rebuilding this place. But please, please...let me in. I want to be in your life again, like we were before you underwent your little transformation. Is that possible?"

[Byrd Man]

Rachel bowed her head, and an exasperated sigh escaped her lips. "I understand that the city needs you. I know that, and I know what I said to you when you were rebuilding this place. But please, please...let me in. I want to be in your life again, like we were before you underwent your little transformation. Is that possible?"

"Please, Rachel. You have to understand. If anyone found out who I really was, they'd come after everyone I knew and cared about. The Joker, Crane, The mob. Trying to hurt me by hurting you."

I look again, Rachel's stare is still unyielding and unflinching.

[Eddie Brock]

http://i166.photobucket.com/albums/u118/EBJ05/RPG%20Banners/Joker.gif

A pair of The Joker's goons congregated around the perimeter of Wayne Manor. They stayed a distance away so their conversation could not be overheard.

"What's the plan, again?" the younger-looking one asks the other.

The older one sighs. "Jesus, kid, it's really simple," he replies, sounding very aggravated. "You, me, and the other guys are going to infiltrate this party. Don't draw any attention to yourself."

The younger nods.

"When the Boss sends the signal, we put on our masks--" the man pulls out a clown mask, "--which have been fitted with a special inhaler to function as a gas mask. First, we have to set up the canisters in the locations that the Boss spoke of. When we put our masks on, we activate the switch to release the gas."

"What about this?" the younger asks while motioning to a special gas mask with a note attached. The note reads, PUT ME ON, NOW.

"You need to inconspicuously slip that to Harvey Dent without him seeing you," the other explains.

"Why don't we want Dent to die?"

"Trust me, kid - you don't want to get inside the Boss's head. Now let's go."

[Val]

http://i9.tinypic.com/717l3s1.jpg

Selina arrived at the party a while after it had started, exactly like she expected, her deep red dress stood out in the sea of black and dark gray suits and as she moves through the crowd she could notice several heads turning towards her. This was her first appearance amongst the rich and powerful men of Gotham, she had made sure to make a few donations here and there to get herself included in this circle, but very few people knew her name and as far as she knew, none of the other guests would be able to connect her name to her.

Being mysterious always worked well for Selina and the less these people knew about her, the better.

She picked up a glass of champagne from one of the passing waiters, sipped on it slowly before she resumed walking among the guests, a soft smile on her lips as she noticed eyes on her.

[Eddie Brock]

Harvey Dent

Invitation to a Party, Part V

"...And so I said to the 'Rabbi, Hey, Why not just cut it down?'" Everyone laughed at my corny jokes and playful anecdotes. Some genuine, some false. I grin at them all as I squint toward the doors, looking for more people to bore. Someone catches my eye. "Excuse me ladies and gentlemen. Have a great night."



"Lieutennent Gordon!" I say practically jogging over to the man. He looked on edge, from what I've heard he always does. "Harvey Dent." I say shaking his hand. "I've heard so much about you."
I take Harvey's hand, but I don't look him in the eye. I'm scanning the room for familiar faces. I see Bruce Wayne talking to Rachel Dawes, the Assistant District Attorney. Shouldn't she be in protective custody? Maybe I've got my information wrong.

Finally, I look back at Harvey and respond, "Likewise, Mr. Dent. I'm hoping that you can become a good ally for the police of Gotham City."

I think about what I just said.

"The honest police of Gotham City, that is," I add.

[Gallagher]

I take Harvey's hand, but I don't look him in the eye. I'm scanning the room for familiar faces. I see Bruce Wayne talking to Rachel Dawes, the Assistant District Attorney. Shouldn't she be in protective custody? Maybe I've got my information wrong.

Finally, I look back at Harvey and respond, "Likewise, Mr. Dent. I'm hoping that you can become a good ally for the police of Gotham City."

I think about what I just said.

"The honest police of Gotham City, that is," I add.

Harvey Dent

Invitation to a Party, Part VI

"Quite right, Quite right." I nod. "I happen to know which category you fall under Lieutenant. Your own of the best cops this city has. I'm just extending my gratitude. Please, eat, drink, dance and socialize to your hearts content."

I noticed my name being shouted from across the room. It was Chase. I could see his name mouthing the word 'Speech'. "Would you excuse me Lieutenant." I said, patting him on the back. "Seems a I'm wanted over there."

[Cyrusbales]

[?]THE RIDDLER[?]


The Gotham PD had been trying to force a reaction that could lead to the capture of ‘The Riddler’ for nearly three days now, and still nothing. Whether they were thankful that he hadn’t committed another crime, or even more on edge was hard to tell, because lately, the whole of Gotham PD was up to it’s neck in trouble.

Siren’s screeched out in the night, fuelled by an anonymous tip off. Apparently another victim had been discovered with the question mark signature of the illusive Riddler.

The first few men on the scene were met with what appeared to a business man, bound and gagged, laying face down in the mud a little off the main track of Gotham park. His back had a question mark scorched into it, which was stained green, most likely through copper oxidisation to display the colour which the assailant used. It was definitely an escalation of sorts, but to what end?

The body seemed hunched over something, but what exactly was unclear, as the officers radioed for backup before touching anything. A green envelope lay beside the corpse, tearing through the paper, hoping to find a clue that could give them an immediate direction in which to take the preliminary investigation, what they got was another logic puzzle….



My First is in Blaze, but not in Haze.
My second is in Explosion, but not in Experiences.
My third is in Massacre, but not in Sacred.
My fourth is my First.

What Am I?


[?]

[Harlekin]

GOTHAM GAZETTE

RISE AND FALL

This week’s indubitable riser is OSWALD COBBLEPOT. Owner of the Iceberg Lounge and a man surrounded by rumours, Cobblepot has secured himself ownership of the Palomino Club and Michaels Industries. Michaels Industries has had a consistent place on the Fortune 500 since its creation and it will surely put more money into Cobblepot’s already well-lined pockets. Of course, Felton Michael was reported to be not amused by the take-over, and has even disappeared from Gotham all together. Coincidence? Considering that Michaels’ ex-wife Olivia will be running the business from now on, there may be more to this story than meets the eye.

Falling the deepest this week is none other then our own GOTHAM PD. In the last week alone, the murderer known only as the Joker escaped and dealt with his opponents in a rather explosive manner. Progress on the Gotham Knights case has been non-existent, and it looks like there’s a new killer in town by the name of ‘the Riddler’. Looks like the Major Crimes Unit has headed into what will prove to be quite a turbulent year.

[Val]

http://i9.tinypic.com/717l3s1.jpg


"Please, Rachel. You have to understand. If anyone found out who I really was, they'd come after everyone I knew and cared about. The Joker, Crane, The mob. Trying to hurt me by hurting you."

I look again, Rachel's stare is still unyielding and unflinching.

As she kept walking through the crowd, Selina noticed Bruce Wayne, the playboy himself in what seemed to be a pretty intense conversation with the woman she recognized as the DA Rachel Dawes so she felt like it was the perfect time for an interruption.

Selina made her way towards them, waiting for a split second of silence between the two before she took a couple steps closer, effectively and smoothly stepping almost between them, her back turned towards Rachel as she smiled at Bruce, her voice in a low pitch but lout enough for him to hear her;

"Mr. Wayne, such a pleasure to be invited into your house..."

[Byrd Man]

As she kept walking through the crowd, Selina noticed Bruce Wayne, the playboy himself in what seemed to be a pretty intense conversation with the woman she recognized as the DA Rachel Dawes so she felt like it was the perfect time for an interruption.

Selina made her way towards them, waiting for a split second of silence between the two before she took a couple steps closer, effectively and smoothly stepping almost between them, her back turned towards Rachel as she smiled at Bruce, her voice in a low pitch but lout enough for him to hear her;

"Mr. Wayne, such a pleasure to be invited into your house..."


"Please could you give me...."

The words in my mouth sputter and come to a stop as I look at the woman who interloped into my converstation. Her beauty takes me off guard for a moment.

"...A moment?...Umm, never mind."

Rachel starts to back away, I have to keep my persona up. Besides, Rachel and I can talk later. That way we'll be far away from prying ears and eyes.

"Welcome to Wayne Manor."

I turn on the charm, flashing the same smile that graces tabloid covers on a weekly basis, and extend my hand to the woman.

"Feel free to eat all my food and drink as much champage as possible, miss?"

[Val]

"Please could you give me...."

The words in my mouth sputter and come to a stop as I look at the woman who interloped into my converstation. Her beauty takes me off guard for a moment.

"...A moment?...Umm, never mind."

Rachel starts to back away, I have to keep my persona up. Besides, Rachel and I can talk later. That way we'll be far away from prying ears and eyes.

"Welcome to Wayne Manor."

I turn on the charm, flashing the same smile that graces tabloid covers on a weekly basis, and extend my hand to the woman.

"Feel free to eat all my food and drink as much champage as possible, miss?"


Selina smiled up at him, cocking her head to the side slightly as she placed her hand in his, turning the outer side of it up gently as she chuckled softly and looked him in the eyes.

"Kyle." She said in a soft, yet deep voice "Selina Kyle"

Being on the good side of one of Gotham's richest men was definitely in her plans but she couldn't deny Bruce Wayne was gorgeous.

[Byrd Man]

Selina smiled up at him, cocking her head to the side slightly as she placed her hand in his, turning the outer side of it up gently as she chuckled softly and looked him in the eyes.

"Kyle." She said in a soft, yet deep voice "Selina Kyle"

Being on the good side of one of Gotham's richest men was definitely in her plans but she couldn't deny Bruce Wayne was gorgeous.

"Selina Kyle. I'm not familiar with that name."

I take a swig of my fake champagne, I'm giving off the impression that I'm tipsy. There's something so familiar about her, like we've met.

"Are you new to Gotham? I don't think I've seen you at any of the other social events"

[Val]

"Selina Kyle. I'm not familiar with that name."

I take a swig of my fake champagne, I'm giving off the impression that I'm tipsy. There's something so familiar about her, like we've met.

"Are you new to Gotham? I don't think I've seen you at any of the other social events"


She smile, taking a slow sip of her champagne too and watching his face over her glass as she did so, Selina lowered her glass and with a soft shrug she nodded;

"I suppose you could say that.", she paused "But I have the feeling you will be seeing more of me."

[Apprentice]

Rachel shook her head disapprovingly and slowly but silently excused herself by backing away from the pair. Bruce was evidently more interested in the beauty of the young woman before him than the chance to repair a damaged friendship; unfortunately for him, as he was no doubt aware, the necessity to maintain his 'playboy' persona was costing him much. Rachel moved to the food table, positioning herself beside Adrian and announcing her presence with a gentle nudge. He glanced up from the lavish buffet and turned to face her, greeting her once again with a warm smile.

"Did you see the boss?" he enquired, a flavoured crisp crackling between his teeth as he spoke.

Rachel shook her head. "No. I started a conversation with Bruce, but you know him...a mindless bimbo in a short skirt walks into the picture and he goes blank."

Adrian sneered, before reaching over to grip her shoulder reassuringly. "He may be Harvey's new best friend, but that doesn't mean you have to waste your time on him. He's just some loser with money. And any loser with money can pass themselves off as a good person." He paused. "But that doesn't mean that they are. You deserve better than him."

Rachel looked to the floor, half-nodding in reluctant agreement. "Yeah, I guess so..."

[Harlekin]

http://img139.imageshack.us/img139/838/bannerua8.gif

“A man that doesn't spend time with his family can never be a real man.”
~ The Godfather (1972)

“Ah, Jesus,” Del Arrazio exclaims as he sees the body. “What kind of a psycho case did you talk me into, Joe?”

Detective Joely Bartlett can’t help but smile a little

“Now, Sarge, you know damn well,” she starts, before she stops and stares at the crime scene.
“Joe?” Del Arrazio asks as he looks at her and then to the scene as well.
“What’s the riddle accompanying this?”
“Uh,” Del Arrazio replies. “My first is in blaze, but not in haze. My second is in explosion, but not in experiences. My third is in massacre, but not in sacred. My fourth is my first. What am I?”
“In blaze, but not in haze.”
“Blaze, haze? What the hell is he trying to say? That doesn’t even make any sense!”
“It has to.”
“What?”
“It has to make sense, or he’d be breaking his own rules.”
“Guys like these don’t play by any rules. Not any of ours, that’s for sure.”
“We need to look at this logically.”
“Logically?!” Del Arrazio protests.
“Vincent.”
“Okay, talk me through it.”
“My first is in blaze, but not in haze… it’s a puzzle. There’s four letters.”
“So?”
“The first letter is either a b or an l.”
“And the rest?”
“My second is in…” Detective Bartlett begins to mutter as she takes out her notepad.


“Sarge?”
“Yeah?” Del Arrazio replies, desperate for the solution to the riddle.

Terrified, Bartlett holds up the notepad, which spells out the word: BOMB.

“Ah, hell,” Del Arrazio replies, his eyes widening in terror. He quickly turns to one of the other officers on the scene. “Get me the bomb squad here, on the double!”

* * *

“Hey, partner,” Del Arrazio says as he comes up to Bartlett with two cartons of coffee. She’s sitting against one of the squad cars, watching the bomb squad leave. The entire scene is lit by the lights of the sirens. Del Arrazio leans against the hood of the car as he hands her the coffee.
“Thanks,” she replies as she accepts and then cradles the cup of coffee.
“We can’t keep cleaning up after this guy’s mess.”
“I know.”
“It’s time we tore up the rulebook.”
“It’s time we nail this bastard,” Bartlett responds as she lays her head a little against his shoulder.
“You got that right, partner. You got that right.”

[Eddie Brock]

IC: LIEUTENANT GORDON

After Harvey leaves me, I find myself standing alone in the middle of the party. Mingling isn't my strong suit. So I decide to make conversation with someone. I make my way over to Rachel Dawes as she's talking with someone.

"Tell me, Miss Dawes," I announce in my authoritative 'cop' voice, "Where is Detective Montoya? I thought I heard that she was taking care of you in protective custody."

Rachel looks at me with the expression of a teenager who's just been caught sneaking out of the house.

I lean in closer, smile, and allow my voice to soften to a normal tone. "How about we make a deal? I won't tell if you don't."

[Harlekin]

G.K.L.X. PRESENTS: ‘LET’S TALK ABOUT IT’

“Hey guys, Angie Molina here, presenting to you another exciting instalment of ‘Let’s talk about it’! Today I’ll be sitting down with John Law, author of, among other books, the bestselling book Altered Egos: The Mystery Men of World War II. We’ll be talking with him about his latest novel, Man of International Mystery, an investigation into our very own rumoured mystery man, the Batman!” the woman says as she smiles at the cameras. “First though, here’s a word from our sponsors!”

* * *

“Want a taste of the great life? Take a bite out of our new specials, including the Gotham Burger!”

* * *

Applause from the public fills the room as the ‘ON AIR’ sign is turned on again.

“As I already said, we’ll be talking with John Law today about his new book, called Man of International Mystery, so please welcome him onto the show!” Molina says as she plasters a fake smile on her face and turns to her guest. “Hey, John, great to have you.”
“Great to be here.”
“Let’s talk about your book here. Man of International Mystery, for people that don’t you know, you like to write about the so-called mystery men, don’t you?”
“Well, they’re not so-called, Angie, they’re very real,” Law replies with a little laugh. “Hell, I should know. I was one of them!”

Another round of applause is heard.

“Now this is very different from your earlier book, Altered Egos, isn’t it? That dealt primarily with the second World War.”
“That’s right, Angie. I decided, or rather, my publisher–” another round of laughs, “–decided I needed to do something contemporary.”
“So you decided to go after our very own Batman. Have you met him?”
“You know I can’t say that, Angie.”
“C’mon, what’s a few secrets between friends?” she replies conspiratorially, not forgetting about the audience for even a second. “Just you, me, and a whole bunch of our friends.”

She smiles as she says that and waves exaggeratedly to the public, who erupt in applause.

“Now, seriously, John, you did meet him, didn’t you?”

John Law simply laughs.

“I guess we’re going to have to read the book for that, huh?”
“You got that right.”
“What can you tell us, John?”
“That everyone that reads the book will learn a little something they didn’t know about the Batman.”
“A little hint, John?”
“Well, I can say this,” Law replies as he turns to the camera. “Batman doesn’t exactly live in a mansion.”

Once again, the crowd erupts into laughter.

“Thanks for coming, John,” Molina says as she reaches over to shake his hand. “John Law’s latest book, Man of International Mystery will be on sale tomorrow at every major bookstore. Now, John, I hear you will be signing the book at one of the stores in the city tomorrow, is that right?”
“That’s right.”
“Can you tell use where?” she asks, the fake smile once more on her face.
“I’m afraid I can’t, Ang. It’s a mystery signing, after all!”

The audience and Molina laugh.

“John Law, people!”

Applause once more.

“We’ll be returning to talk to noted businessman Michael Caine after these messages. Stay tuned!”

[Byrd Man]

She smile, taking a slow sip of her champagne too and watching his face over her glass as she did so, Selina lowered her glass and with a soft shrug she nodded;

"I suppose you could say that.", she paused "But I have the feeling you will be seeing more of me."

"I hope so."

I flash a cheeky smile. Even though it's part of my act, there's something about this woman that intrigues me.

"If it's not too much of an inconvience to your schedule, I'd love to take you to diner sometime."

The Batman in my head screams at me. This will be just another distraction and will more than likey hinder my mission. But for once, I cast his thoughts aside. For just a moment, I'm Bruce Wayne again.

"Mr. Wayne! Bruce Wayne!"

I turn to see a man wearing a fedora along with a tuxedo trying to get my attention. He's accompined by a red headed woman in a black cocktail dress.

"You'll have to excuse me. Please, think about what I said. Call the manor and talk to me or Alfred to set up a time."

I make my way across the room and he shakes my hand.

"Alexander Knox, Gotham Globe. This is Vicki Vale. We work Gotham's city beat."

"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Wayne. It's a fabulous house."

"Thank you, Miss Vale. Although in many ways, I still consider it my father's house."

"Yeah, lots of rich things. So...can I have a grant?"

The three of us laugh as Vale pulls out a tape recorder and Knox starts to scribble on a notepad.

"So, with this party you're endorsing Harvey Dent as DA?"

"Yes, he's a great man. He believes in Gotham City and I believe in him."

"What about Rachel Dawes? Word is that you two or childhood friends. You wouldn't like to see her in charge."

I laugh as they keep taking notes.

"Yes. Rachel is a good friend. Had she seeked the office, I would have endorsed her. But like I said, Harvey has a fire and passion that this town needs."

"Umm...sir?"

Alred taps me on the shoulder and points over towards the food table.

"Mr. Fox would like to talk to you."

"Thank you, Alfred. Mr. Knox, Miss Vale."

I start to turn away from the two reporters, but I tap Alfred and point to Knox before I'm out of earshot from the two.

"Alfred? Give Knox a grant."

"Cash or charge?"

"....Ummm?"

[Cyrusbales]

PSYCHOLOGICAL PROFILE OF ‘THE RIDDLER’


The starting point for examining this persons actions is the same as any other. Why?


Generally, the style of the crimes and the messages tend to suggest that they are battling for intellectually superiority, possibly due to inferiority in physicality, and as a result of being shunned at some stage in the past, which has led them to exhibit their more brutal side.


However, the crimes are not about the killing, the only clear motive is the one of intellectually combating those in authority, in this case, Gotham PD. The messages are quite conclusive that the killing is not the enjoyable part of the crimes, rather the chase and thrill of outwitting opponents even after they have been told what will happen.


As with the majority of serial killers, the suspect is thought to be male, or at least masculine, due to the victims, and the statistical factors. The ability to overpower each victim also suggests a masculine presence as no drugs or sedatives were detected in the toxicology reports on the victims. HOWEVER, this would contradict the physical nature established via the supposed mental state, which renders both of these observations inconclusive.


The use of explosive material, shows a destructive edge, one which was directed at authority, drawing up what the suspect sees as a game, being very clever to not reveal any clues other than the intentional ones left at the crime scenes or sent to the PD.


Often with these cases, the suspect returns to the crime scene, especially in the recent case of the bomb threat, it would be desirable for him to see how his scheme pans out. The level of intelligence we are seeing exhibited seems to suggest that he would not make things obvious in respect to returning to the crime scene, and may even have electrical surveillance, as to avoid direct detection.


In terms of occupation, we can determine there is a lack of satisfaction from it, and a state of detachment and anomie has developed. The intellect displays could be evidence that this person has a more abstract way of generating revenue, which is further enforced by the lack of any theft from any of the victims.


In conclusion, we are most likely looking for a Man, late thirties to mid-forties, living in and around the Gotham area, with a massive ego and superiority complex. Who has at some stage in the past seemed shunned by others, and is fuelled by a desire to outclass those in positions of authority.


Report compiled by

E. J. Lowe
BEHAVIOURAL SCIENCES DEPT.

[Cyrusbales]

http://img208.imageshack.us/img208/3686/poisonivybannernb5.jpg



It always starts with a dame, and what a dame. They used to call her ‘Poison’, I never did figure that out until now, ‘till all the pieces finally came together. I guess the whole thing started at the beginning of the new year, my office has just opened for business and she was the first person who walked in, and as soon as I saw her, I didn’t’ care if she was the last person to walk through those doors.

She was dressed in a dark green dress that somehow managed to shimmer in the dim light of the smoky room. Her legs were smooth and seemed to reach up from the floor all the way to heaven, full red locks swayed past her shoulders and down her back with every step she took towards my desk. Leaning in, emerald eyes captured my gaze as my mouth went dry just at the sight of her beauty.

“I need a man. For a job.”

I would’ve answered straight away but something was stopping me, her voice was so luscious and velvety that it’s sound almost caressed my ears. And the scent, it was how you’d imagine angels to smell, a little like sweet honeysuckle.

How could I have known that murder could sometimes smell like honeysuckle?

[Cyrusbales]

http://img208.imageshack.us/img208/3686/poisonivybannernb5.jpg


Reaching across the desk, her hand slipped into my top pocket, I could feel her warm as she drew out a cigarette and pulled it into her luscious lips, pouting as her lipstick marked it’s end. Speaking out from the corner of her mouth, yet still possessing more elegance than a choir of seraphs.

“You gotta light?”

She could have asked me for anything right then, and she would have got it. I grabbed a match and pit with all the conviction I could muster, as if my very life depended on lighting that little cancer stick in her mouth.

As the smoke filled her lungs, I almost felt jealous of it, it’s closeness to her. The tarry smoke she exhaled still managed to smell sweeter than any florists, I thought I was dreaming, little did I know it would end up being a nightmare.

“Need a man? For a job.”

Inside I felt as if my attempt to impress was already failing, the thought of what the job was hadn’t even occurred to me yet.

“Yes, there’s a man you see.”

My heart stopped for a few beats at the mere mention of another man, before returning to it’s hugely racing state.

“He’s following me, and I need him…….dealt with. Could you be the man I need?”

Yes was already my answer, long before any questions rolled off the tip of her sensual tongue.

“Sure. I’m all yours…”

[MST3K 4ever]

Oswald is annoyed as he reads through the Gotham Globe. He reads an interesting article about Harvey Dent and growls. Oswlad then throws the paper in the trash can.

He gets up and lights a cigarette and puts in his holder. Taking a couple of puffs he watches the security monitors.

That pretty boy D-A is making life difficult for me to get any information from the D-A's office. Ever since he took over and cleaned it up I haven't heard nary a peep. There's only one thing really to do...take down Harvey Dent the question is how? He is so squeaky clean the Pope looks like the devil when compared to him

He notices that the club's business is rather brisk and gathers himself.

For another time...time to greet the guests.

Oswald mingles through the Iceberg Lounge main floor greeting the guests and making small talk along the way.

[Harlekin]

http://img139.imageshack.us/img139/838/bannerua8.gif

“A man that doesn't spend time with his family can never be a real man.”
~ The Godfather (1972)

“Yo, Del Arrazio, your little psych report came in!” Sergeant Davies yells towards Del Arrazio as he walks into the squad room, a file under his arm. With a loud ‘thunk’, the Sarge drops it onto the Detective’s desk. “Happy hunting.”
“Thanks, Jackson,” Del Arrazio replies as he starts reading.

“What’s that?” Detective Joely Bartlett asks as she sits down at the desk opposite of Del Arrazio.
“Pysch report.”
“Yeah, what have they got?”
“Listen to this: ‘The use of explosive material shows a destructive edge’. Yeah, thanks, Doc.” Del Arrazio snorts. “I bet all he wanted was to host a tea party with the C4 he placed under that guy Knoxville.”
“Who is the report by?”
“Lowe from the Behavioural Sciences Department.”
“He’s pretty good.”

Del Arrazio looks up from the file to stare at his partner.

“What?”
“‘He’s good’?”
“Yeah, that’s what I said. He’s good.”

Del Arrazio keeps looking at his partner in disbelief.

“What?!” Bartlett now asks, starting to feel a little intimidated.
“Forget about it.”

Del Arrazio turns back to the file, looking at the other information gathered about the bomb. After a few seconds of silence between the two, Del Arrazio looks towards his partner again, but thinking the better of it, turns back to the report again. Bartlett has taken a few of the pages to read through herself, and every few lines she smiles, which Del Arrazio catches just from the corner of his eye.

“So,” he begins as he looks at her again. She looks back. “You know him?”
“I do.”

Silence again falls.

“You slept with him, didn’t you?”

Joely’s jaw drops as she looks at her partner.

“How can you ask me that?”
“Just, you know, the smiles. The ‘he’s good’. You slept with him, didn’t you?”
“What’s it to you?”
“Gave him a ride on the Bartlett horse, huh?”

Rather than respond, Bartlett grabs the Gotham Gazette, and after rolling it up, smacks Del Arrazio with it. They laugh as Del Arrazio throws up his hands in defence and she gives him another slap with the paper for good measure.

“Detective Sergeant Vincent Del Arrazio, I swear, if you weren’t my partner…”
“If I weren’t your superior, you mean.”

That comment results in another hit with the paper.

“And for your information, no, we did not sleep together. We went out on a few dates, that’s all. He was a real gentleman.”

Del Arrazio just snickers as he goes back to reading.

After a while, Del Arrazio turns to his partner again:
“So, you get anything from that report that I didn’t?”
“Nothing special,” she replies, shooting him a look. “Bomb was made by an expert though. Bomb squad had a bit of trouble with it. Intricate circuitry and all. Military stuff.”
“We know of any bomb specialist like that?”
“None that isn’t in jail, or you know, in the military.”

They sit for a moment, lost in thought.

“Wait a second.” Bartlett breaks the silence as she takes the crumpled Gotham Gazette and folds it back out, showing the front page to her partner.
“Decorated soldier Joe Rigger returns to Gotham,” he reads out loud from the paper. Taking the paper from her hand, he continues reading: “Decorated soldier Joe Rigger returned to Gotham City yesterday, after learning that most of his relatives had recently died in a building accident. Rigger served as a demolitions expert while in the army…” he finally trails off.
“Looks like we got ourselves a prime suspect, for the bomb at least.”

[Apprentice]

After Harvey leaves me, I find myself standing alone in the middle of the party. Mingling isn't my strong suit. So I decide to make conversation with someone. I make my way over to Rachel Dawes as she's talking with someone.


"Tell me, Miss Dawes," I announce in my authoritative 'cop' voice, "Where is Detective Montoya? I thought I heard that she was taking care of you in protective custody."



Rachel looks at me with the expression of a teenager who's just been caught sneaking out of the house.



I lean in closer, smile, and allow my voice to soften to a normal tone. "How about we make a deal? I won't tell if you don't."




Rachel grinned, her initial nervousness around the Lieutenant dissipating at his quip. She winked in a mock conspiratorial manner, before turning back to Adrian and gesturing towards Gordon. "Adrian, this is Lieutenant Jim Gordon. He's the guy that's been trying to keep me safe for the past few weeks...Jim, this is my colleague at the DA's Office, Adrian Chase. He helps me lock up the bad guys you catch."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Lieutenant," Adrian said warmly, reaching out to shake the officer's hand. "I've heard a lot about the good you've been doing."

"You're a hero where we work, Jim. God knows what you're doing at this party, though...let me guess, Mr Wayne invited you to make himself look good for the press?" Rachel mumbled, rolling her eyes.

[Catman_prb]

Alberto arrived late to the party, as was his plan. Johnny was following him into the entrance hall.

"Right Johnny, mingle and act cool. If you find any potential bribes, tell me and I'll work em over. I wanna have a look at Wayne and I'll try nd get a look at this Dent guy. New DA, may be nice to have a couple of friends around. Oh and there was a laywer that nailled a couple of Moxons goons. I wanna get her a drink," he said. Johnny nodded, and walked off into the crowd, grabbing a glass of champagne as he went. Alberto did the same, taking a small sip before looking around the room. His eyes locked on three people deep in conversation. One of them was a cop, not quite sure what he was doing there from the look of him. One of the other two he recognised from a newspaper article as Rachel Dawes. He wandered over, champagne in hand.

"Hello there Miss Dawes. I was very sorry to hear of your unfortunate accident with those members of the Moxon family. Such a shame when people resort to violence, I've always thought. Still it could've been prevented," he said looking at the cop "Apologies, I should introduce myself. My name is Alberto Falcone, I've just returned from studying law in england. Sad to see that Gotham hasn't changed," Alberto said smoothly, flashing a prize-winning grin and offering his hand.

[Byrd Man]

http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t302/BatmanRPG/One%20Year%20Later/batlogo.gif


I stroll up behind Lucius Fox, who's in the process of eating a cracker with a cheese cube on it.

"I hope you enjoy that cheese, Alfred had it flown in from Switzerland."

He turns and smiles, crumbs of crackers still on his face.

"Mr. Wayne. Good to see you."

We shake hands and I look at his face.

"You got a little bit..."

He wipes his face as the realization dawns on him.

"Oh, thank you."

"So. How's my company doing?"

"Stocks are high. We're still in the arms business, but we've been slowly getting out of it and trying to edge more towards medical supplies."

"How about the Applied Science division?"

He smiles a knowing smile. Lucius Fox is too smart to not know what I'm doing with my spare time. I've tried numerous times to tell him, but he turns a blind eye.

"Actually. There is something that's right up your alley."

"Go on."

"It's a project we were doing with Military Intellegence. A vehicle called the whisper. It's a small, one person aircraft. It was designed to allow a single operative to get in and out of a hostile area quickly and quietly. Capable of vertical take off, it doesn't need a runway to take flight. The engine sounds like a ghost. Nearly radar invisible, capable of breaking the sound barrier. It's a damn shame the goverment didn't want to move forward with it."

I arch my eyebrow and look at Fox.

"Hmm..I might just have a look at it sometime soon."

"You'll have to talk to my sucessor in the department. A fellow named Harold Allnut. A rather bright fellow, a bit absent-minded, but a genius in his own right."

I nod and pat Lucius on the shoulder.

"It was good talking to you, Mr. Fox. I'll see you on Monday."

He smiles and turns back to the snack table.

"See you then, sir."

[Harlekin]

AT THE PARTY: PART II

“Let’s just go, John,” Chas Chandler says as he tries to escort his friend out the door.
“Sod off, Chas, I can snog who I want to.”

The man pushes away his friend and seeks entrance back into the main room, when he suddenly finds himself flanked by two security men.

“Is there a problem here, sir?” one of them asks.
“No, no problem, my friend’s just a little drunk.”
“&^%# yeah I’m &^%$ed.”
“Sir, we’re going to have to ask you to leave.”
“Sod off,” the man says again, but he’s forcibly stopped by one of the guards’ hands on his shoulder. The man struggles for a moment, but finally admits defeat when the other guard helps his colleague and together they lift him off the ground.
“Just spare the face, yeah? It isn’t pretty as it is.”

With a loud <thunk>, the man lands on the steps to the mansion. His friend follows behind hurriedly.

“%&^$ing yanks,” the man spits at the door.
“C’mon, John, let’s go back to London.”

Chas Chandler helps his friend up and the two move down the steps the proper way.

[Eddie Brock]

I don't trust this guy as far as I can throw him. Then again, that's almost second-nature to me. It doesn't help that this is a Falcone either.

Without taking his hand, I ask rather harshly, "Falcone, eh? Looking to take over the family business now that The Roman is out of the picture?"

Maybe I'm wrong about this. Maybe he was studying law, and maybe his intentions aren't crooked. But if there's one thing being a Gotham City cop has taught me, it's to ignore the maybe's.

Everyone is guilty until proven innocent in this town, sadly.

[Saved]

Edit

[Byrd Man]

http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t302/BatmanRPG/One%20Year%20Later/batlogo.gif

"Mister Scott."

Alan Scott turns on his heels and shakes my hand. He's a gray-haired gentlemen dressed in an emerald tinted tuxedo. Accompined with him are two dark-haired women in violet dresses, they're obviously mother and daughter, and a stocky man with salt and pepper hair.

"Bruce Wayne. I was wondering if you'd manage to come my way."

"I did want to talk to you. I've been thinking of broadening my horizons. Getting into the media game."

Alan Scott is the media mogul of Gotham. He owns the Gotham Gazette, WYFF Channel Four Gotham News, and four radio stations.

"Trying to step on my toes, huh?"

"I'm just looking for some advice. You'd be the man to talk to."

"Call my secretary, Laura. We'll set up some kind of sit down to talk about it."

"That's fine. Who are your friends?"

He laughs as he remembers his companions.

"Sorry, how rude of me. These two lovely women are Dinah Drake Lance and Dinah Laurel Lance, respectively."

"Pleasure to meet you, Mister Wayne."

I shake the younger of the Dinah Lance's hand and the stocky man coughs loudly.

"No offense, money bags, but I don't wanna see ya drooling over Little Dinah like that. She's only 18."

"You'll have to excuse Ted. He's a bit protective of Dinah. I think we all are."

"Bet your sweet ass I am. Name's Ted Grant. Yeah, The Ted Grant."

"I remember seeing you take down Hector Ramirez at the Gotham Garden. Man, that was a fight."

"God, that was twenty years ago. I still haven't gotten those two teeth he knocked out replaced."

"Yes. I was sitting on the front row when you splattered me with your blood."

There's a brief moment's silence as Ted Grant starts to heard towards the bar.

"I'm getting some booze. Anyone want some?"

"Let me have a scotch."

"Fat chance You're still three years away fom that."

"Come on, Mom. Hey, where's Jay? I thought he said he was going to come."

"He said he couldn't make it, he has business else where."

The two Lances follow Grant towards the bar and Alan Scott and myself are alone.

"How do the four of you know each other?"

Alan scratches his face as he smiles. That's the first time I notice he's wearing some sort of ring on his right hand.

"Ted, Dinah, and I have been friends for many years. We've known her daughter since she was born."

"I hate to sound like I'm prying, but that ring of yours. Where is it from?"

"Oh, this old thing?"

He holds up his right hand and I get a good look at the ring. It's a class ring of some sort, but the jewel is an unaturally bright emerald.

"Something I got from a fratenity. The GLC. Gamma Lamda Cappa."

I arch my eyebrow slightly as he finishes his sentence.

"I thought 'Cappa' stated with a 'K'?"

He pats my shoulder and nods.

"Well, Bruce. You know frat boys, we're not always the brightest bulbs in the box."

"Very true. Well, enjoy the party and I'll make sure to set up a time."

"It was a pleasure, Bruce."

I can't help shake this strange feeling as I walk away from Alan Scott.

*******

Ted Grant and the two Dinah's approach Alan Scott as Bruce walks away.

"Well, Alan?"

"He puts up a good front. But it's him. "

"How sure are you?"

"What I've seen under the house confirms it. He may be a heck of an actor, but the ring...."

Alan holds up his hand and the emerald in the ring shines green light for a moment before it fades.

"The ring never lies. And in all my years with it on my hand, I'm not going to start doubting it now."

[Rain Dog]

"THE SCARECROW

The Narrows. Home of Gotham’s worst. One of its newest residents was a Dr. Jonathan Crane. After a humiliating defeat at the hands (or rather the taser) of Rachel Dawes, Crane had retreated into these slums to avoid apprehension by the police...or the Batman. And now, he has become just another one of "Gotham’s Most Wanted."

Crane sat in the dimly lit abandoned warehouse in Gotham’s east end. This is where he spent his days and nights now. Alone, in the dark, in some grimy, roach-infested warehouse. And how did he spend his days and nights? Preparing. After getting so close last time, Crane was now determined to do what he’s dreamt of doing for so long. He would spread panic and horror throughout Gotham and watch the city tear itself apart. And now he toiled day and night making more and more batches of his
precious fear toxin.

Crane poured some chemicals into a beaker. This was his newest batch. Much more potent than previous samples. He began stirring the liquid with a glass rod.

"The cock doth crow, to let you know, if you be wise..." he sang to himself in a hushed voice. He turned his attention to a homeless man lying on the ground nearby. Crane found him incapacitated on the streets earlier and brought him into the warehouse. He poured the chemicals in the beaker into a special dispenser that would release the liquid as a gas. He pulled his burlap mask over his face and approached the man.

"...’Tis time to rise!" he shouted. The man began to stir. As he slowly rose, Crane blasted him in the face with a dose of the fear toxin. The vagrant looked baffled but his look of confusion slowly turned into a look of sheer horror. Crane grinned underneath his mask.

[MST3K 4ever]

Oswald reads the reviews in The Gotham Globe about the Iceberg Lounge.

He crumbles the paper and throws it in the trash can. He then presses a button on his phone and in walks two of his bodyguards.

Oswald says, "Gentlemen it appears the Daniel Peters the food critic of the Gotham Globe did not think to highly of our establishment. He gave us three and a half stars out of five. I find that offensive and I cannot just start killing my competition out right. Sooner or later that do-gooder Dent would get suspicous, so for now would please visit Mr. Peters establishment and communicate our displeasure."

The two bodyguards nod and leave.

[Gallagher]

Harvey Dent

Invitation to a Party, Part VII

I moved through the crowd, half-dodging well wishers and admires with a simple smile and nod, the occasional 'Thank You' thrown in for good measure. Weaving through the huddles masses was no easy task but I got through in one piece. Sipping my champagne I surveyed the room once more. Seems things were well underway. 'Time for a speech' I thought, smiling to myself.

Gesturing toward the musicians, who immediately stop playing, I tap the side of my glass. "Ladies and Gentlemen?" The noise dims down. "Ladies and Gentlemen?" Silence enveloped the room. "Alright. Most of you know who I am, but allow me to introduce myself: My name is Harvey Dent. Welcome to my party." I pause for a slight cheer from the more drunken of the guests. "I have a few thank yous before I get down to why we are here tonight.

"Thank you to Wayne Manor staff, headed by Mr. Alfred Pennyworth, for putting on this marvelous feast and festivities. Second thank you to Bruce Wayne himself for allowing us to use his home for our little shindig. It's not like were going to be cramped anytime soon in here is it?" I paused to let the chuckling die down. I took a deep breath and pressed on.

"And most of all, Thank you to my guests this evening. Some of you I know, some of you I don't, ALL of you, I am grateful too. The money gained tonight through donations and ticket sales will go... well right into my back pocket." I used my playful voice to emphasize the joke, always good to have a lighthearted atmosphere, especially in a town like Gotham. "In all seriousness. I thank you all for your generosity and support, without which I would be lost." A take a small bow toward my audience, letting the clapping and, again, cheering from the more drunken of guests, die down. Time to deliver the knock-out. I thought to myself, reaching into my jacket pocket for the earlier prepared speech. My hand fumbled with something much bigger. I pulled out the contraption with a quizzical look. A gas mask... my heart stopped. The note read 'PUT ME ON NOW!'. I turned back to the crowd with a visibly shaken look. "Everybody get out! NOW!" I yell putting on the mask...

[Eddie Brock]

http://i166.photobucket.com/albums/u118/EBJ05/RPG%20Banners/Joker.gif

As the room erupted in chaos, several guests eerily stood still. Little did the guests know, but these men were The Joker's hired hands. They were fully aware of what was about to happen. And thus, they were entirely unafraid.

The pair from outside is standing at one of the far reaches of the room. "What now?" the younger asks. His hands are clutching the clown mask in his pocket.

"We wait for the Boss's official signal," the older one replies. His hands are folded casually behind his back. He appears much less anxious than his counterpart.

Suddenly, a chilling noise echoes throughout the halls of Wayne Manor. Many recognize it instantly.

"HAHAHAHAHA!"

"That's it!" the second man yells over the commotion. "Put on your mask! Hit the trigger!"

The Joker's men all put their clown masks on and draw small devices from their pockets. Simultaneously, each presses the small red button - activating the explosion of the gas canisters hidden throughout the room. Within seconds, a purple gas begins to fill the air.

The guests run in fear, covering their noses and mouths. But those who are not fast enough collapse on the ground in fits of laughter. It takes only moments for them to die of suffocation.

"My invitation must have gotten lost in the mail!" The Joker announces as he makes his grand entrance, pushing innocent guests into the path of the expanding gas. "I must say that I'm hurt, Harv - after our little conversation and everything! Lucky for you, I'm not one to hold a grudge."

[SenseiofCheese]

Mr. Zsasz

"You are free, now. No longer restrained by the chains of this life, you can finally be at peace." Victor Zsasz's voice cracked in delight as a constant stream of blood cascaded down his chest. Above him, suspended in the air by thick strands of rope, hung the lifeless body of yet another victim. The old wooden floor of his decrepit cabin, situated in the woodlands a few miles outside of Gotham City, creaked as he shifted his weight. A small pool of blood began to amass beneath him as the stream of dark red slowed to a trickle. Still he savored every drop.

It had been eight weeks since Victor began his mission to rescue the poor souls of the city, and still he eluded the police. He knew from the start that he would be pursued for his actions; that most would resist salvation. But no great thing, Victor reminded himself, was done without opposition.
Although he had separated himself from most aspects of everyday life, something he had become increasingly repulsed by, he could not resist in peering through the Gotham Gazette from time to time. Scanning page to page, he looked for any coverage of his work. None of the bodies had been uncovered so far, if the papers were to be believed. He knew all too well, however, that it was only a matter of time.

"If the citizens of Gotham are to be introduced to my work...my plans for them...it would need to be on my own terms." he had said to himself, his words nothing more than a fading echo in the darkness of his small wooden fortress.

Because yes, he knew that his work would be uncovered in time. And although this realization made him feel great pride, he could not get over the feeling that the power was being forcibly taken from him. He would not have his life's mission be made into some media circus, for people to talk about for a week and then forget.
No, he would need to present himself to the world at large in a proper fashion.

Those few nights prior, Victor dropped the newspaper to the ground and stood up, his dry, calloused lips creeping into a smile. He knew just what he would need to do.

In his former life, he had met many like him. Lost, desperate people trying to drown their pain in alcohol, drugs, sex. But none seemed quite as sunken as the man Victor had spent the last days planning to free. In fact, he seemed to feel an unusually large sense of duty towards this man. As if they shared a kind of kinship. They were the same, Victor believed.

Victor's head tilted down as he stared at the black and white picture of the man he would next set free from this life.

"I shall set you free, Bruce Wayne. Relieve your suffering."

[Byrd Man]

http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t302/BatmanRPG/One%20Year%20Later/batlogo.gif


Panic ensues as The Joker turns my home, no my father's home, into his personal playground. Nedless to say, I cannot stand for this.

"Sir!"

Alfred manages to slip away from the gas and follows me as I quickly move towards the study.

"Alfred. Call the police, call Dr. Thompkins and haver her get to the mansion ASAP."

"And what will you do?"

I play two keys on the keyboard of the piano's study. A hidden door opens and reveals the elevator to the cave. I undo my tuxedo tie and pull a small device out of my breast pocket. Since rebuilding the mansion, I've upgraded the security. I speak into the device as I throw off my tux coat.

"I'm getting backup. Manor voice activation, User BW1 Password: Thomas."

"Welcome, Bruce Wayne."

The device speaks back to me and I continue barking orders into it.

"House override, Activate fans."

The strategically placed fans all through the house start to blow, in a few seconds Joker's gas will float harmlessly into the night sky.

"Impressive, what do you need from me?"

Alfred's like a father to me, but he's no good to me now.

I step into the elevator and activate the button that takes me down to the cave.

"Stay safe."

[Gallagher]

http://i166.photobucket.com/albums/u118/EBJ05/RPG%20Banners/Joker.gif

As the room erupted in chaos, several guests eerily stood still. Little did the guests know, but these men were The Joker's hired hands. They were fully aware of what was about to happen. And thus, they were entirely unafraid.

The pair from outside is standing at one of the far reaches of the room. "What now?" the younger asks. His hands are clutching the clown mask in his pocket.

"We wait for the Boss's official signal," the older one replies. His hands are folded casually behind his back. He appears much less anxious than his counterpart.

Suddenly, a chilling noise echoes throughout the halls of Wayne Manor. Many recognize it instantly.

"HAHAHAHAHA!"

"That's it!" the second man yells over the commotion. "Put on your mask! Hit the trigger!"

The Joker's men all put their clown masks on and draw small devices from their pockets. Simultaneously, each presses the small red button - activating the explosion of the gas canisters hidden throughout the room. Within seconds, a purple gas begins to fill the air.

The guests run in fear, covering their noses and mouths. But those who are not fast enough collapse on the ground in fits of laughter. It takes only moments for them to die of suffocation.

"My invitation must have gotten lost in the mail!" The Joker announces as he makes his grand entrance, pushing innocent guests into the path of the expanding gas. "I must say that I'm hurt, Harv - after our little conversation and everything! Lucky for you, I'm not one to hold a grudge."




Harvey Dent

Invitation to a Party, Part VIII

I stared, panic stricken at the dozens of smiling corpses literring the floor. I felt something inside me snap, something wrong, something hidden. I was no longer shaken or scared, I stood bolt upright and walked through the malevolent mist, gas mask still wrapped firmly around my nose and mouth. Harvey Dent was gonna sit this one out.

"Hey. Laughing boy. Whats your deal? Sure the speech wasn't grade A material, no reason to make... such a mess." It was like someone was using my body as a vessel, someone strangely familiar, I realized as I walked up to the madman, face to face, that it wasn't someone else, it was who I was all along, my 'better' half.

"You got 2 minutes clown."

[Eddie Brock]

HarveyDent

Invitation to a Party, Part VIII

I stared, panic stricken at the dozens of smiling corpses literring the floor. I felt something inside me snap, something wrong, something hidden. I was no longer shaken or scared, I stood bolt upright and walked through the malevolent mist, gas mask still wrapped firmly around my nose and mouth. Harvey Dent was gonna sit this one out.

"Hey. Laughing boy. Whats your deal? Sure the speech wasn't grade A material, no reason to make... such a mess." It was like someone was using my body as a vessel, someone strangely familiar, I realized as I walked up to the madman, face to face, that it wasn't someone else, it was who I was all along, my 'better' half.

"You got 2 minutes clown."
It would be foolish to try and predict The Joker's actions. The Gotham City Police have tried time and time again - only to be foiled constantly by the madman. For this reason, one must always be on edge around the Clown Prince of Crime. It is damn near impossible to tell when he's going to stop laughing. And if there's one thing worse than when he is laughing, it's when he's not.

The Joker was pleased with Harvey's process. After all, he didn't expect Dent to snap so quickly. Nonetheless, Joker was actually enjoying Harvey's descent into darkness. The Joker wasn't, however, enjoying Harvey's new attitude.

"I want to keep you alive, Harv. I really do," The Joker states sincerely. His smile fades instantly. Suddenly, with such quickness that Harvey can't match, The Joker draws a switchblade and plunges the metal into Dent's ribs. "But you're making it very difficult for me."

The Joker withdraws his knife and pushes the injured DA aside. While delivering his next speech, The Joker playfully runs the bloody blade across his tongue. "Now, because I'm a caring guy, I'm going to give you one last chance to repent. I'm all for fun and games, Harv, but cross me - and you'll find that there's a side of me that you won't like."

The Joker's menacing seriousness stands in sharp contrast to his usual overly-jovial nature. However, as with any time that The Joker gets serious, he instantly returns to his regular self as he puts the switchblade away.

"So! Shall we get the real party started now?"

Without warning, house fans begin to circulate the Joker Venom - keeping it away from the fleeing guests. For the second time in the night, The Joker's smile dissipates. Someone has ruined half of the fun. However, as The Joker scans the floor for his victims, he realizes that he has made significant impact. Many people have died in The Joker's brilliant premiere of his new weapon - a weapon which will make his name known across Gotham.

As The Joker ponders his next move, a bullet grazes his shoulder. Turning in the direction of the shot, The Joker sees Lieutenant Gordon holding a smoking gun.

"You made a mistake coming here."

[Cyrusbales]

[?]THE RIDDLER[?]


It’s all about scale. There’s a time and place for small things, little tricks and puzzles, but then there’s a time for something big. Something really big. A man is the sum total of the misery which he causes, for misery towards others promotes an intellectual response, for the sacrifice of happiness is the birth of intelligence.

Pools of light collected beneath the grubby streetlamps that sprung up periodically throughout Gotham. Away from the luminescence, a man clung to the shadows. Not an ordinary man, but something far worse, a serial killer. One who’s mind had been twelve steps ahead of every detective in the PD.

He was waiting, mist swirled into the air as his warm breath made contact with the cold bracing air. Patience was a virtue, one of the few that could be described to this murderer. Hours had gone by, the shadows growing thicker, further stealing away what little light could remain.

Men and women would pass by without even acknowledging his presence, his shroud of darkness more than ample to conceal his form. Soon the person whom he waited for would arrive, and then the game would truly have a chance to get underway.

[Harlekin]

http://img139.imageshack.us/img139/838/bannerua8.gif

“A man that doesn't spend time with his family can never be a real man.”
~ The Godfather (1972)

“You want go see Rigger now?” Detective Joely Bartlett asks with a hint of enthusiasm, but her partner, Vincent Del Arrazio, can hear the tiredness in her voice. In fact, he can hear it in his own.
“No. You, we, need to get some sleep.”
“I’m not that tired.”

Del Arrazio smiles.

“You’ve been working non-stop since we started this case. Our shift was over six hours ago, Joe.”
“I know, Vince, but we can’t let this bastard go now.”
“I’ll get Hartley to track Rigger down. We’ll take a four hour nap.”

Joely sighs.

“I could use some sleep,” she says, rubbing at her eyes.
“I know, me too.” Del Arrazio hands his partner her coat.
“Thanks.”
“C’mon, let’s get out of here.”

Outside, Del Arrazio takes out his keys.

“You want a lift to the docks?”
“No, I think I’ll walk. Get some fresh air.”
“I’ll pick you up at six. We’ll knock on Rigger’s door then.”
“See you then, Sarge.”
“Sleep tight, Joe.”
“Good night, partner.”

Del Arrazio waits a few seconds before he steps into car. As his partner disappears into the dark of Gotham City, Del Arrazio’s stomach can’t help but turn. Should he pick her up or let her walk? After a moment’s hesitation, he thinks to himself to let her walk. The clean air will do her good, and she can handle herself.

Finally, Del Arrazio steps into his car and drives off.

Meanwhile, Detective Joely Bartlett makes her way through the streets of Gotham. It’s dark and misty, fitting the midnight hour. About every third streetlight is broken, forcing her to walk through the occasional patch of darkness. Joely Bartlett is not afraid though. She’s seen the best and worst of this city. No, all she can think about is getting home before her toes freeze off.

[Climperoonie]

http://i150.photobucket.com/albums/s89/Climperoonie/Manbatsymbol.png
ORIGIN OF A MONSTER
PART I


"Well, well, well, Batman certainly has been busy over these few months." I say as I look through my newspaper clippings of the Bat. He's so fascinating. What sort of a man would dress as a Bat? I knew it was the same kind as me. And I'll prove that to Gotham soon. I sit in my small lab at Wayne Industries. I tinker with my pride and joy, well, the torso of it, anyway. I'm developing a costume to show Bats how you're meant to use fear. You're not meant to use it for good, fear is a bad emotion, to be used for bad things. Not arresting criminals. I finish it, and place it down with the rest of the suit. I fit it onto a chair, and then connect the legs to it. I place the arms on, too. I then pull torn pants over the legs, for added effect.

"Time to test you out, my little beauty." I smile, admiring my handiwork. I should have been an inventor. I check the arms and legs are properly connected before stepping into the suit through a hatch in the back. I get my fingers and feet into the suit properly, then close the hatch. I walk over to a table, where the mask for the suit sits. Freaky little bastard. I pick it up and pull it over my head, making sure to lock that onto the rest of the suit. I smash the window and then leap onto the ledge. I built in a device so I just need to thrust my arms back while in mid-air for the Jet-pack in my suit to activate, and then it will atomaticly turn off when my feet touch the ground. An interactive suit. Told you I should have been an inventor.

I leap off of the ledge, and thrust my arms back. My pack activates. I fly along, and land on a building top. But it doesn't turn off. Instead, it just heats up and heats up and heats up. I feel the plastic melding with my skin. It's so hot. I try to remove my helmet. I can't. I'm stuck. I'm stuck as this bat-thing. I'm stuck as this Man-Bat.

[Byrd Man]

http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t302/BatmanRPG/One%20Year%20Later/batlogo.gif

It doesn't take me long to slip my suit on. In a few minutes, I've used one of the cave's many alternate escape routes and I prowl through the darkness up to the door. That's when I hear a gun shot accompined by James Gordon's steely voice.

"You made a mistake coming here."

The Joker won't hesitate to slit his throat. I need to do something.

"House Override, kill the lights."

The lights all through the house dim and then finally shut off, a few people yell in surprise.

I dig into my belt and find a few smoke pellets. I toss them through a nearby window to add the confusion to the darkness. People cough and scream as I crash through the window.


http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t302/BatmanRPG/Batman17-1.jpg

"He's right. You made a mistake coming here."

[Gallagher]

It would be foolish to try and predict The Joker's actions. The Gotham City Police have tried time and time again - only to be foiled constantly by the madman. For this reason, one must always be on edge around the Clown Prince of Crime. It is damn near impossible to tell when he's going to stop laughing. And if there's one thing worse than when he is laughing, it's when he's not.

The Joker was pleased with Harvey's process. After all, he didn't expect Dent to snap so quickly. Nonetheless, Joker was actually enjoying Harvey's descent into darkness. The Joker wasn't, however, enjoying Harvey's new attitude.

"I want to keep you alive, Harv. I really do," The Joker states sincerely. His smile fades instantly. Suddenly, with such quickness that Harvey can't match, The Joker draws a switchblade and plunges the metal into Dent's ribs. "But you're making it very difficult for me."

The Joker withdraws his knife and pushes the injured DA aside. While delivering his next speech, The Joker playfully runs the bloody blade across his tongue. "Now, because I'm a caring guy, I'm going to give you one last chance to repent. I'm all for fun and games, Harv, but cross me - and you'll find that there's a side of me that you won't like."

The Joker's menacing seriousness stands in sharp contrast to his usual overly-jovial nature. However, as with any time that The Joker gets serious, he instantly returns to his regular self as he puts the switchblade away.

"So! Shall we get the real party started now?"

Without warning, house fans begin to circulate the Joker Venom - keeping it away from the fleeing guests. For the second time in the night, The Joker's smile dissipates. Someone has ruined half of the fun. However, as The Joker scans the floor for his victims, he realizes that he has made significant impact. Many people have died in The Joker's brilliant premiere of his new weapon - a weapon which will make his name known across Gotham.

As The Joker ponders his next move, a bullet grazes his shoulder. Turning in the direction of the shot, The Joker sees Lieutenant Gordon holding a smoking gun.

"You made a mistake coming here."

Harvey Dent

Invitation to a Party, Part VIII

As soon as the cold steel scraped my ribs the other man was gone, leaving only Harvey Dent behind in searing agony. I felt as though I would pass out from shock at any minute. But something inside me screamed 'You cant let this beat you Dent, your stronger than this. We're stronger than this.' Whatever it was was futile, I managed to pull myself up to a sitting position against a wall but that was it, I couldn't do any more. The voice was right, Harvey Dent was going to sit this one out. I took one last look at the blood seeping through my shirt and jacket and closed my eyes.



NO... not yet. Wake up Dent, no time to die, no way to die. I thrust my eyes back open again to see Jim Gordon and The Batman closing in on the Joker. Anger swelled. Half of me wanted blood, the other half just wanted to sleep forever.

A look to my left revealed a lifeless, smiling corpse. In his jacket was a gun, 'Must've been a cop' I thought to myself. I reached into my pocket, with an immense amount of pain and pulled out the coin I had found days before. One side new, clean, good. The other was defaced, scratched, bad. With a stab of pain i flipped it up into the air. But I didn't catch it... Someone else did. Someone with the will to do what Harvey Dent couldn't.

"Rest easy Harvey." The new voice said again. I didn't understand, I was going crazy, must be. The new man using my blood stained and punctured body reached out with one hand for the gun under the dead policeman's jacket. Brining it up to his face he growled.

"Hey!... Jokes on you, Clown." 'NO!' I remember screaming inside my head, that wasn't the way to settle this. I could do nothing but sit and watch myself commit murder. The gun fired, a loud 'BLAM' echoing through the halls...

[Climperoonie]

http://i150.photobucket.com/albums/s89/Climperoonie/Manbatsymbol.png

ORIGIN OF A MONSTER
PART I


"Well, well, well, Batman certainly has been busy over these few months." I say as I look through my newspaper clippings of the Bat. He's so fascinating. What sort of a man would dress as a Bat? I knew it was the same kind as me. And I'll prove that to Gotham soon. I sit in my small lab at Wayne Industries. I tinker with my pride and joy, well, the torso of it, anyway. I'm developing a costume to show Bats how you're meant to use fear. You're not meant to use it for good, fear is a bad emotion, to be used for bad things. Not arresting criminals. I finish it, and place it down with the rest of the suit. I fit it onto a chair, and then connect the legs to it. I place the arms on, too. I then pull torn pants over the legs, for added effect.

"Time to test you out, my little beauty." I smile, admiring my handiwork. I should have been an inventor. I check the arms and legs are properly connected before stepping into the suit through a hatch in the back. I get my fingers and feet into the suit properly, then close the hatch. I walk over to a table, where the mask for the suit sits. Freaky little bastard. I pick it up and pull it over my head, making sure to lock that onto the rest of the suit. I smash the window and then leap onto the ledge. I built in a device so I just need to thrust my arms back while in mid-air for the Jet-pack in my suit to activate, and then it will atomaticly turn off when my feet touch the ground. An interactive suit. Told you I should have been an inventor.

I leap off of the ledge, and thrust my arms back. My pack activates. I fly along, and land on a building top. But it doesn't turn off. Instead, it just heats up and heats up and heats up. I feel the plastic melding with my skin. It's so hot. I try to remove my helmet. I can't. I'm stuck. I'm stuck as this bat-thing. I'm stuck as this Man-Bat.
http://i150.photobucket.com/albums/s89/Climperoonie/Manbatsymbol.png

ORIGIN OF A MONSTER
PART II
I look at my hands, my clawed hands. This is impossible! How could it have failed! I reach round and manage to pull out the pack from the slot. I look at it. Then I see the error. A plug is loose. I fumble at it with my clumsy gloved hands. I plug it into the socket, and slot it back onto my back. I walk to the edge. I tell myself that there's no need for puny Langstrom now. I'm Man-Bat. I let myself fall. I throw my arms back, and my pack ignites. I fly through the streets. Onlookers point up in wonder. I swoop down and land outside a bank. Lock, just like I though. I run up to the door and knock it in with my elbow. This suit is metal re-enforced, so I more strength. The alarms blare.

Security guards stream around me. I put my hands up in mock surrender. Then in a second throw them down and leap at one of the guards. I hit him square in the jaw. I scratch at his face, and as I plunge my clawed hand into his face, I hear a sickening crack. He's dead. I've killed. I flip upward and kick another guard, and scratch his face with my feet. The chaos continues, and I enjoy it. Inspired by that clown person, I leave trademarks on my victims, they will all have two sets of scratchs running parallel on their faces. I'm the Man-Bat.

[Saved]

Birth of a Monster

The sewers of Gotham. A place more feared to tread than the streets above. Many rumors come about from the odd occurrences in the earth beneath the city. Some say ghosts haunt the endless pipes, the souls of those long killed. Others say the rats in the sewers have become so aggressive; they would eat you alive upon entrance. But the most believed and popular reason is that monsters live there. Monsters of all kind that are hideous, ghastly, and ruthless.

Deep within the endless miles of pipes and pathways, the rats crawl on the narrow concrete edges of the pipes. The water splashes against the walls of the track, the small waves crashing on each other as they make their way through the large pipes.

On one of the narrow ledges, a rat holds a piece of rotten food in its hands. It devours the scrap hastily, its beady eyes appearing to stare blankly at nothing. Suddenly, a small wave hits the side of the wall, splashing water onto the small mammal. The wave catches the rodent off guard, and knocks it into the water.

As the rat struggles to surface against the rough current, it lets out small shrieks and cries. Its arms and legs kick as hard as they can, the creature trying as hard as it can to surface. The other vermin in the sewer stare at their brother as he desperately tries to swim. Their dark red eyes blankly glance at him as his body is tossed and turned in the unforgiving river.

Suddenly, something begins to stir in the water ahead. A dark shadow begins to surface, as bubbles begin to come up from the depths. A scaly hand grabs the rat, and lifts its body above the water. The strange creature breaches the water, and stands up above the sewer water. It holds the rat carefully in its hand, staring at the creature with compassion.

“I’ve got you.” It says in a deep voice. “Relax. It’s all over now.” The creature lifts the rat closer to its face, his façade still covered in the shadows. The creature stares face to face with the rodent, its orange eyes piercing through the darkness. The rat squeaks as it sniffs the air, and the creature continues to stare at the small mammal. “I’ve got you.” It repeats, his mouth hanging open. The creature grabs the rat by its tail, and violently dangles it in the air.

“I’ve got you.” It reitterates, its mouth opening wide revealing sharp white teeth. The creature drops the rat into its mouth. In an instant, the creature closes his mouth shut like a trap, the tail of the rat hanging out from his lips. The strange being begins to chew, and swallows. The tail of the rat falls from his mouth into the water, and drifts off down the stream until it disappears.

“Delicious.” The creature laughs. It makes its way against the current into a large square room. Within the room pours several drainage pipes. The water falls from them into the pool below, spewing large drops of sewer water into the air. Small beams of light shine in from the ceiling above. The creature steps into the light, revealing its true form.

The creature has a humanoid form, but it has been perverted too far to be called human anymore. Instead of light gentle skin, it is replaced by a dark green pigment, its texture resembling that of a reptile. The creature’s eyes are a light red, changing in the darkness to give off an orange glow. The creature’s mouth has large sharpened teeth, the points as jagged as a knife. At the end of its fingers are not nails but inch long talons or claws. They are hard and stiff, formidable weapons that usually belong to a lizard caiman.

As the creature stays still under the light, it stares at itself. It quickly fills with rage and anger, and it violently hits the water in anger.

“Agh!” It yells in rage. “Look at me! I’m a monster! A freak!” It jumps into the air, and lands by one of the thick concrete walls. In a fit of rage, the creature begins to slash and claw at the concrete blocks, leaving large scrapes. “Look at this! Normal people can’t do this! It’s impossible! But me? No! No, I can do it. Like some ****ing freak of nature! A hybrid of species! Why me? Why!”

After a few minutes, the creature’s rage begins to dissipate, and it calms down. It drops to the ground and sits in the deep water. “Why me?” It asks in confusion. “I was Waylon Jones. I had a happy life until I was five. I was going to be a biologist! I had a future! Until I started to change into…this. Of course, Mom was always behind me. Trying to raise my self esteem. ‘You’re not a freak, Waylon. You’re just different.’ Different.” He scoffs. “Yeah…I’m different alright.” He sighs, and leans back against the wall. It stares up at the ceiling, hundreds of feet above him, a look of depression and anger on his face.

“Oh, and as if dad’s constant, ‘what the hell is wrong with him?’ wasn’t helpful enough, the kids at school were. Everyday I’d walk through the halls having to endure their damn laughs and snide comments. ‘What’s a matter, Way? You miss the zoo?’” Waylon gets to his feet quickly, and turns around to face the wall. He angrily punches the wall as he visualizes the faces of the kids from his past who mocked him. Waylon yells as loud as he can, his voice turning into a growl. He continues to pound the wall, each punch coming after a yell of anger.

“Why! Couldn’t! You! Just! Under! Stand!” Waylon’s breathing becomes heavy, his body moving up and down as he slowly calms himself down. Waylon drops back into the water, holding his head in his hands.

“Why couldn’t I just be normal?” After a few moments of silence, he raises his head. “Four years I’ve lived here. Four years I’ve lived in the filthy underworld. People above think they know hell? Ha. They don’t know hell.” Waylon stares at his hands, examining them closely. He sees no wounds on his knuckles from his assault on the wall. “I know hell.” Waylon’s mind drifts back to his past, back to his memories of school. He remembers the voices of the children who mocked him. He remembers the looks on their faces, the evil grins and smiles. They haunt him, causing each moment of his existence to be a constant reminder of what he is. Different.

“I know hell. And those damn doctors. The media claims we are at the peak of medical advancement? Bull****! We have cures for the most deadly viruses on the planet, but a simple unknown skin disease can’t be cured let alone treated? No cure. No cure? No cure!” Waylon’s voice echoes through the emptiness of the tunnels. The echoes come back at him, like a haunting memory. His mind drifts back to his past once again, and he remembers all the appointments he had with the doctors and physicians. He remembers what they told him. He remembers their lies, their false truths, and the memories only bring back the rage.

“People aren’t good. People aren’t caring. They are liars! They are evil! They forced me into hiding! They forced me into exile! Only here can I find peace!” He looks around the room and releases a heavy sigh. “What kind of peace is this?”

“I am better then them. I am stronger! I am superior! It shouldn’t be them who mock me! No, it should be I who mock them! If only I could show them the pain they’ve shown me. If only I could make them suffer the way I’ve had to suffer.” All goes silent in the sewers. All that can be heard is the faint squeaks and hisses of the rats and the sound of water dripping into the water. Suddenly, Waylon looks up, his eyes opened wide. An evil smile comes across his face, his lips curling backward to reveal his pointed teeth.

“That’s it…” He says in a whisper. “That’s it! I will show them! This disease…this sickness, it has plagued me for too long. I’ve thought it to be a curse but, I haven’t looked at it from a different angle. One way, it makes me a freak, and outcast. But…the other…it makes me powerful…it makes me unstoppable.” Waylon laughs, the echo resonating throughout the area. He gets to his feet and holds his arms in front of him, his hands balling into fists.

“I can’t be stopped. I’m a monster! I’m what they fear now!” Waylon smirks, his eyes closing. “Freak…monster…or god…either way, I’m different.” A rat scurries across the ledge behind Waylon. In a quick motion, he turns around and snatches the rat in his hand. He holds the furry rodent tightly in his hand, staring into its eyes. “And you know what?” He asks the small vermin. “I think it’s time for some payback!”

[Eddie Brock]

"NO!" screamed The Joker's youngest henchmen. He thrust himself into the path of the bullet - absorbing its entire force to save his boss's life.

The Joker ceased to smile and looked down upon the dead body of the goon. "Compassion? For me? You deserved your fate."

"You're sick, Joker!" Gordon cries out, his gun still trained on the madman. The Batman inched closer to his target. Dent leaned helplessly against a far wall - the smoking gun still in his hand.

"Sick?" The Joker repeats sinisterly. "I suppose you're right. Perhaps I should operate!"

The Joker draws his switchblade again. Moving with surprising speed, he barrels down upon the trained gun of Lieutenant Gordon. Gordon fires once, but The Joker has already twisted Gordon's arm - causing the bullet to ricochete throughout the hallowed halls of Wayne Manor.

"Batman! I was hoping to run into you again!" The Joker announces gleefully, still grasping tightly on Gordon. "Now you can see my mission progress right before your eyes!"

[Cyrusbales]

[?]THE RIDDLER[?]


Weary eyes parted, only dim half-light filtering in, yet even this made Joely squint. As she tried to move, she discovered her wrists were bound by shackles and her feet immovable, likely via the same method of restraint.

The smell that crept into her nasal cavity was one of dank dark mildew, the poor level of illumination made seeing anything past a few feet difficult, but the sound of footsteps certainly drew her attention.

“Who’s there?”

“The question of who? But is it the question you wish to be answered? What greater insight does this knowledge bestow upon you? Will it make your situation more comfortable? I think not.”

“What do you want?”

“Ah, another question, we are the inquisitive little one aren’t we? What do I want…….I know what you’re thinking, but I obviously don’t want you dead, at least not yet.”

In her gut she knew exactly who it was, the serial killer with a penchant for toying with people and playing games. It would seem he’d stepped up his act, but as per usual, what was the motive? What was the puzzle here?

Meanwhile, across Gotham, the PD was up in arms as a new note found it’s way to Del Arrazio’s desk…

[Harlekin]

http://img139.imageshack.us/img139/838/bannerua8.gif

“A man that doesn't spend time with his family can never be a real man.”
~ The Godfather (1972)

“What the --?” Detective Sergeant Vincent Del Arrazio exclaims as he walks into the squad room. Running up to him is his partner, Detective Joely Bartlett, rattling off something to him, but he can’t make out the words.
“What are you saying, Joe?”
“¡El me ha conseguido! ¡El me ha conseguido!”
“Joe? I’m… I’m not getting what you’re saying.”
“¡El me ha conseguido! Adivinanzas!”
“Joe, slow down. What’s going on?!”
“Don’t you get it, Vince?” Det. Azeveda says, appearing beside the two.
“Get what Josh? She isn’t making any sense!”
“Vince! Vince! Wake up!”
“What’s that?”
“¡El me ha conseguido!”
“It’s nothing to, Vince, listen to me.”
“Vince! Vince! Wake up!”
“Don’t you guys hear that? What is that?” Del Arrazio asks as he walks around the squad room, trying to detect where the sound is coming from.
“Vince, listen to me!”
“What?!”
“He’s got her.”
“Vince! Vince! Wake up!”

Detective Vincent Del Arrazio suddenly wakes up and sits up right, his bed soaked in sweat. He sighs. Now, he can clearly hear the pounding on the door. Groggily, he puts on a robe and makes his way to the door.

“Who the hell is it?”
“Open the door, Vince!”
“Azeveda?” Del Arrazio asks as he opens the door and finds Det. Josh Azeveda standing outside his house, shaking.
“He got her, Vince! He’s got Joely!”

* * *

Del Arrazio runs into the squad room at neck-break speed, his colleagues looking at him with a mixture of pity and sadness. Racing to his desk, Del Arrazio finds the green envelope. The green envelope he’d feared for the last few nights now. Ever since this whole Riddler case had gotten started, the case he’d gotten Joely in too!

“Vince?” Det. Romy Chandler asks as she approaches him.
“Goddamn. Lousy &*^%ing bastard,” he curses as he reads the letter inside the envelope. Another riddle. Another life at stake. The life of his partner this time. Del Arrazio was burning in rage, almost choking in it.
“Vince?” Chandler asks again.

He ignores her as he walks into the middle of the room.

“Listen up people,” he starts. “This bastard has gone too far. He’s taken Bartlett, one of our own. I want this guy to pay. I want this guy found and I want him hurt. Anything that you’re doing that you can drop, drop it right now. I want you out on the streets. Talk to everybody you know.” Del Arrazio stops for a moment, and he rubs his face. “We’re looking for a serial killer here, people. We don’t know what kind of sick game he’s playing at, but I’m sure as hell ain’t going to let him get to my partner.”

Furious, Del Arrazio turns around and heads to the large board at the end of the squad room. There, he pins down the letter he received from the Riddler: Question: All of Gotham City knows them, but they do not know all of Gotham City. Who are they? Answer: The Gotham police.

He could practically hear the bastard laughing.

[Harlekin]

http://img139.imageshack.us/img139/838/bannerua8.gif

“A man that doesn't spend time with his family can never be a real man.”
~ The Godfather (1972)

“You need a partner.”
“I… what?!”
“You need yourself a partner. You can’t go out alone, Vincent,” the Captain repeated.
“I don’t need a partner. I have a partner.”
“This isn’t up for debate, Sergeant.”

“What’s his name?”
“Her name is Josephine MacDonald. She’s waiting for you at your desk.”

Detective Sergeant Vincent Del Arrazio and Captain David King glare at one another.

“I believe you have a partner to save, don’t you, Del Arrazio?”

Del Arrazio grumbles and turns away to the door.

“Vince? Bring her home safe,” the Captain says just before Vincent leaves the office.
“I will, Cap.”

Back in the squad room, Detective MacDonald sits at Del Arrazio’s chair, reading the Riddler case file.

“Let’s go MacDonald,” Del Arrazio says as he walks past her and out of the squad room. She quickly follows.
“You can call me ‘Josie Mac’, y’know. All of my friends do,” she says as she catches up to him.
“Yeah?” he responds as he turns to her. “Well, I’m not your friend, Detective, so as far as I’m concerned, your name is MacDonald. If you’re smart, you’ll call me Del Arrazio or Sergeant.”
“Sure thing, boss.”
“I like that too.”

* * *

“Why are we visiting this guy again?” Josie asks as she and Del Arrazio stop in front of the Gotham Royal Hotel.
“He’s a bomb expert, the Riddler’s used a bomb, the Riddler’s got Joely.”
“What makes this guy so special out of all the other bomb specialists?”
“He was the best,” Del Arrazio responds as they walk into the five-star hotel.
“How do you want to go about it?”
“Cautiously, but we don’t want to waste any time. Who knows what happens to Joely in the mean time.”
“Don’t worry, Sarge, we’ll get her back,” Josie Mac replies, sincerely. Del Arrazio nods, appreciating it.

The two walk to the main desk, where a young, blonde woman is greeting all visitors with a smile.

“Can I help you?” the receptionist asks.

MacDonald and Del Arrazio flash their badges.

“Detectives MacDonald and Del Arrazio. We’re here to see Mr. Rigger.”
“Uhm…” she stutters, a little taken aback. “Does he know what this is about? Should I phone ahead?”
“I’d prefer it you don’t. Just tell us in which room he’s staying.”

The receptionist complies and turns to her computer screen.

“He, ah, he’s staying in the penthouse.”
“That a problem?”
“There’s a… a private lift for that suite.”
“Damn it.”
“What’s the matter, Sarge?” Josie asks with a smile. “It’s only fifty floors up.”
“Very funny, MacDonald,” Del Arrazio responds. “Thanks for the help, Miss. I guess we’ll take the stairs.”

* * *

By the tenth floor, Del Arrazio is puffing and huffing.

“God… God damn it.”

Josie Mac just keeps smiling, far from being winded.

“I guess you need to lay off the cigarettes, huh, Sarge?”
“Shut up, MacDonald.”

* * *

Finally, the two Detectives reach the fiftieth floor. With their hands close to their guns, MacDonald and Del Arrazio cautiously approach the door. Del Arrazio gives a knock on the door.

“It’s open,” a voice comes from inside. The two Detectives exchange glances, and when Del Arrazio nods, the two slowly walk into the penthouse’s hall.
“Mr. Rigger? This is the Gotham P.D.”
“I know, please, come in, help yourself to something to drink,” Rigger responds, and as the two Detectives round a corner to the living room, they can see him sitting on the couch in a robe, smoking a big cigar.
“You know, I really missed these in the service,” Rigger says with a smile as he shows the cigar and the glass of whiskey he’s drinking. “Please, sit down, take a load off.”

Naturally, the two Detectives are shocked.

“Do you know why we’re here, sir?”
“Yes, of course. C’mon now, sit down. I’ll tell you all about it.”
“You will?” Josie responds, flabbergasted.
“Yes, yes, just sit down.”

Cautiously, MacDonald and Del Arrazio sit on two stools across from Rigger.

“We need to talk, Rigger.”
“I’m sure we do,” Rigger responds as he gets up and walks over to the bar in the room’s corner. The two Detectives never let him out of their sights.
“One drink won’t hurt, will it?” Rigger asks, the smile still on his face as he pours two glasses of whiskey. Adding a little ice to it, he turns back to the Detectives, who look at him incredulously.
“Oh, these? No, they’re not for you,” he says, seeing their confusion, and then quickly gulps down the contents of both glasses. “These will be.” He pours another two glasses full.
“I’m sorry, sir, but we’re on duty. Now, we need to ask you some questions.”

Rigger sighs, but remains standing with the two glasses in his hands.

“Well, get on with it, then.”
“Where were you--”
“I can’t tell you that,” he cuts her off.
“What do you mean you can’t tell us?!” Del Arrazio hisses, rising from his seat. “We’re on a clock here, Rigger. Tell us what you know about the bomb.”
“I can’t.”
“You will,” Del Arrazio replies as he lunges for Rigger.
“Sarge, don’t!”

Smiling, Joe Rigger takes the glass in his right hand and smashes it against Del Arrazio as he reaches for him. The glass cuts through the Detective’s coat, while other parts cut through the hand that reflexively shields the face. Del Arrazio cries out in pain and the momentum of the blow forces him to the ground. MacDonald is about to rise, when Rigger yells: “Don’t!”

The call comes too late, and MacDonald can hear something click in the seat. Reacting instinctively, she jumps forward, over the couch, rolling over to Del Arrazio. Rigger has already jumped over the bar when the bomb explodes, rocking the room and ripping through the couch and television set.

* * *

When Del Arrazio comes too, the police and medics have already arrived. He’s lying on a stretcher in the penthouse hall, his hand bandaged. Scratched, but still smiling, MacDonald approaches him.

“What… what happened?” he asks, his voice hoarse.
“Pressure-sensitive mine. Bomb squad found loads of them in the penthouse.”
“Rigger?”
“Escaped.”
“And this?” Del Arrazio asks as he lifts his bandaged hand.
“You’re lucky on that one,” MacDonald replies. One of the medics comes up to them.
“You really are, Detective,” the medic says. “The glass didn’t cut through any tendons and you’ve only got a few shallow cuts. You might end up with a scar or two extra.”
“You’ll also need to buy a new coat,” MacDonald remarks with a laugh.
“Yep. You’ve got a good partner here, Detective…”

Del Arrazio is about to interrupt, but the medic continues talking: “…the couch shielded you from the explosion, but, well, she shielded you from the couch.” The medic smiles a bit. “I need to go now. You’ll be okay,” he says as he walks away again.
“Thanks, Doc.”
“Yeah, thanks Doc,” Del Arrazio replies, after which turns to MacDonald “And thank you…”

“…Josie Mac.”

[Rain Dog]

THE SCARECROW

Crane gave the vagrant a slight kick in the ribs. No movement. He knelt and checked the man’s pulse. Nothing. This batch was a success, though it did not act as quickly and he had hoped. A faster-acting toxin left less time for an antidote to be administered. Crane glanced at his stacks of fear toxin canisters.

He now had a dilemma on his hands. Funding for his "research" was running low. He pulled off his mask stared at it. It was risky, but he knew what he had to do. It would soon be time for Gotham’s nightmares to be brought to life once more and burn the city to the ground. It would soon be time for The Scarecrow to rise again.

[Eddie Brock]

The Joker has a good grip on me. My gun is aimed helplessly at the ceiling, and I can feel The Joker breathing behind me. The cool metal of his blade draws closer to my skin.

"Batman, Gordon, and Dent - all here in one place. It's like Christmas for me!" The Joker squeals.

I struggle to get loose, but he's surprisingly strong - for a clown.

"Gordon protects Gotham through the police. Dent protects Gotham through the courts. And Batman - he's just a nutjob," The Joker continues. "But I suppose the pot should not be one to speak about the kettle's color, eh?"

Batman continues to inch closer. I just need The Joker to get caught off-guard, even if just for a fleeting moment. Once his guard is down, I can break loose.

"If I finish all three of you tonight, Gotham will unravel. I will turn Gotham into a beautiful canvas - upon which I can paint with chaos and anarchy!"

C'mon, Batman...make your move...

[Byrd Man]

Joker starts to break out into mad laughter, I don't give him the satisfaction.

WHAM!

One of my bat-shurikens slaps hard against his forehead.

"Shut up."

Joker lets Gordon slip out of his graps and I charge, tackling him to the ground and pin him.

[Eddie Brock]

Joker starts to break out into mad laughter, I don't give him the satisfaction.

WHAM!

One of my bat-shurikens slaps hard against his forehead.

"Shut up."

Joker lets Gordon slip out of his graps and I charge, tackling him to the ground and pin him.
"A little fight in you?" The Joker asks while being pinned by his opponent.

The Joker grins evilly. "I like that."

The Joker jerks his knee into Batman's crotch. Sure, Batman's armor would absorb the brunt force of the blow - but a majority of the impact would suffice. It was a low blow, but The Joker never was one to play by the rules.

As Batman doubles over, The Joker rolls out from underneath him. Batman is still recoiling from the cheap shot when The Joker gets to his feet. Drawing a concealed handgun, The Joker aims it at his foe.

"Are you faster than a speeding bullet?"

Gordon and Dent look away as The Joker pulls the trigger. Both are surprised and confused when they don't heard the distinctive sound of a gun firing. When the look back, they see that The Joker was using a gag-gun - a small flag reads 'BANG!' as it extends from the barrel.

Batman stares in confusion at his foe. Why would he waste a shot? Just feet away, Lieutenant Gordon can see The Joker's finger applying pressure to the trigger again.

***

Oh no...it was merely a distraction!

"Batman! Look out!" I cry. But it's already too late for him to respond. Using all the strength I have in me, I lunge at The Joker. My body deflects his arm as he pulls the trigger again. This time, there is a real bang as the bullet ricochetes wildly.

My momentum carries me forward, but The Joker leans out of my path. As I fall to the ground, The Joker regains his center of gravity and takes aim again.

I can only hope that Batman has time to respond.

[Byrd Man]

My momentum carries me forward, but The Joker leans out of my path. As I fall to the ground, The Joker regains his center of gravity and takes aim again.



I can only hope that Batman has time to respond.




I quickly grab Joker's wrist and twist it. It makes a pop and the gun falls limply from his wrist and to the floor.

"You picked the wrong place, Clown."

I use my free hand to grab him by the throat and toss him through the air, he falls on the floor and slides into the snack table.

[MST3K 4ever]

Oswald hangs up his phone and is visably angered.

His body Louis asks, "What was that about?"

Oswald replies, "That my good man was a phone call informing me that thanks to our new homeland security policies my shipment from Europe is being quarantened for the next week in Gotham Harbor. When I am supposed to have those guns to our contacts in Dallas & Los Angeles within the next 72 hours."

He lights a cigarette and says, "I can get the guns from our contacts in Mexico at a significant mark-up there's no problem with that, however these homeland policies are proving to be most trouble for a man in my position."

Oswald takes a long drag and says, "Contact our man in the narrows see what he can do about stirring up some trouble near the harbor where our guns are being kept. Once the guards are distracted see to it the shipment is destroyed. We'll write off the guns as loss this time. I will then contact our source at homeland and see what she can do about getting some of these restrictons lifted."

Louis nods and leaves as Oswald places his call to his contact in Mexico.

[Eddie Brock]

I quickly grab Joker's wrist and twist it. It makes a pop and the gun falls limply from his wrist and to the floor.

"You picked the wrong place, Clown."

I use my free hand to grab him by the throat and toss him through the air, he falls on the floor and slides into the snack table.
The Joker licks his lips as he gets to his feet. "I see it in your eyes."

He begins to circle the room - much like a boxer who's testing his opponent.

"Your rage, your madness..."

The Joker cracks his knuckles before drawing another knife.

"By the end of tonight, you're going to break your one rule."

The Joker, of course, refers to Batman's strict code of using nonlethal force. The Joker doesn't want to die - but if he pushes Batman to the edge, he has won.

[Byrd Man]

I throw another shuriken, knocking the knife from Joker's hands. It falls to the floor with a clatter, and that's when I make my move.

I sweep through the darkness and manage to engage him in a fight. He's already got another knife pulled by the time I swing the first punch.

His knife scrapes against my armored gauntlet, causing sparks to light up the darkness and bask the two of us in a momentary light.

"This ends now!"

I dip low as he swings the knife in a large arc, I kick my leg out in an effort to trip him up.

[Eddie Brock]

I throw another shuriken, knocking the knife from Joker's hands. It falls to the floor with a clatter, and that's when I make my move.

I sweep through the darkness and manage to engage him in a fight. He's already got another knife pulled by the time I swing the first punch.

His knife scrapes against my armored gauntlet, causing sparks to light up the darkness and bask the two of us in a momentary light.

"This ends now!"

I dip low as he swings the knife in a large arc, I kick my leg out in an effort to trip him up.
"How do you figure, Batman?" The Joker calls out after collapsing on the ground. He's clearly not interested in the fight itself. Instead, he's entertaining himself by fighting Batman mentally.

"Your legal system is so flawed that I can manipulate it quite easily!" The Joker squeals in delight. It's true. The insanity plea is The Joker's cop-out. And Arkham is so easy to break out of.

"You know this!" The Joker insists gleefully. "And that is why there is only one possible solution to stop me!"

The Joker simply smiles. He doesn't have to say what that solution is. Both of them know it in their hearts.

"So if you want to 'end' it tonight, GO AHEAD! You'll be no better than me! HAHAHA!"

[Byrd Man]

"How do you figure, Batman?" The Joker calls out after collapsing on the ground. He's clearly not interested in the fight itself. Instead, he's entertaining himself by fighting Batman mentally.

"Your legal system is so flawed that I can manipulate it quite easily!" The Joker squeals in delight. It's true. The insanity plea is The Joker's cop-out. And Arkham is so easy to break out of.

"You know this!" The Joker insists gleefully. "And that is why there is only one possible solution to stop me!"

The Joker simply smiles. He doesn't have to say what that solution is. Both of them know it in their hearts.

"So if you want to 'end' it tonight, GO AHEAD! You'll be no better than me! HAHAHA!"

I growl as I push myself on top of him.

"Sit down!"

I drive my fist into his face, Joker's crimson blood splatters against my body armor and clashes with the black.

"You're going back to Arkham, where you belong."

I chop him in the throat, Joker gasps and wheezes as his air supply is cut off by my hand.

[Eddie Brock]

I growl as I push myself on top of him.

"Sit down!"

I drive my fist into his face, Joker's crimson blood splatters against my body armor and clashes with the black.

"You're going back to Arkham, where you belong."

I chop him in the throat, Joker gasps and wheezes as his air supply is cut off by my hand.
After a few seconds of coughing up blood, The Joker's choking is replaced by laughter. Pure, unadulterated laughter.

"Arkham?!" he repeats incredulously. "Now that's a laugh!"

Both The Joker and Batman - deep down - know how a stint at Arkham will end. Unfortunately, for Batman, it's the lesser of two evils.

"Tell me, they couldn't hold me longer than a WEEK in there last time. What makes you so confident that they will fare any better this time around?" The Joker asks seriously - a hint of playfulness still resonating naturally in his tone and inflection.

"It will become a dreadfully boring cycle. I break out of Arkham, I kill people. You come after me, you put me back into Arkham. Lather, rinse, repeat!"

The Joker doesn't even bother to try to break free of Batman's hold. For him, it was never about the actual fighting anyway.

"We can only keep this pattern going so long before there's no one left to kill!"

[Byrd Man]

After a few seconds of coughing up blood, The Joker's choking is replaced by laughter. Pure, unadulterated laughter.

"Arkham?!" he repeats incredulously. "Now that's a laugh!"

Both The Joker and Batman - deep down - know how a stint at Arkham will end. Unfortunately, for Batman, it's the lesser of two evils.

"Tell me, they couldn't hold me longer than a WEEK in there last time. What makes you so confident that they will fare any better this time around?" The Joker asks seriously - a hint of playfulness still resonating naturally in his tone and inflection.

"It will become a dreadfully boring cycle. I break out of Arkham, I kill people. You come after me, you put me back into Arkham. Lather, rinse, repeat!"

The Joker doesn't even bother to try to break free of Batman's hold. For him, it was never about the actual fighting anyway.

"We can only keep this pattern going so long before there's no one left to kill!"

I can feel the rage in my start to build up. It's at it's breaking point, I have to do something.

WHAM!

I head-butt Joker hard, his head flys back and he goes limp. I pray that he's unconscious.

I hear some people start to gasp. The fight was so quick and quiet in the darkness of the manor, few people know what happened.

I slip through the darkness and make my way back towards the exit. I should be back in the study in a few minutes time.

"Manor over-ride, Lights on."

The lights flick back on, now chaos truly begins as people see the dead bodies, and the unconscious Joker lying on the floor.

I slip away into the darkness and towards the old well...

[Eddie Brock]

I hate flying. The whole concept of holing yourself up in a giant hunk of metal - and then launching yourself into the sky - doesn't appeal to me. So, needless to say, I'm a little more than restless during my flight from Metropolis to Gotham. But I suppose this is merely an occupational 'hazard,' if you will. Lois doesn't appear to be bothered.

"Can I get you anything, sir?" the flight attendant asks. I don't hear her at first. I'm too busy peering out the window as the clouds race by. My heartbeat rises slightly. "Sir?"

Suddenly, I realize that I'm being talked to. I spin around swiftly to see Lois and the flight attendant staring at me. My face starts to turn red. "I'll, uh...I'll just take some water," I explain while breaking eye contact.

"I'm sorry. I couldn't hear that," the flight attendant responds patiently. I can tell, however, that she's becoming irritated. I don't blame her - she has an undesirable job.

"Nevermind," I reply after clearing my throat. I don't want to cause her any more trouble. I think I've done enough for now.

***

A couple hours into the flight, I decide that I have to go to the bathroom. I wish it wasn't so, but there's no fighting this kind of thing. I just realize that going to the bathroom on an airplane is a whole big fiasco. Again, just another reason for me to despise airplanes.

"Lois?" I ask sheepishly while tapping her on the shoulder. She looks at me. "Can I get up?"

"Sure thing, Smallville."

I try my best to squeeze out carefully, but - as luck would have it - I accidentally bump into Lois and knock her water all over her lap. My eyes shot open so wide that I felt like my head was going to explode. I can't believe I just did that - with Lois, of all people.

Lois is completely silent with her mouth open. That almost hurts just as much as being yelled at. I wince instinctively as the rest of the plane turns to get a look at the commotion.

"Lois...I am so sorry!" I stammer embarrassedly. What else can I possibly say? I'm just waiting for Lois to explode on me. And - let's face it - I fully deserve it. But Lois says and does nothing. After a few moments of waiting for the eruption, I finally back away slowly and stumble over to the bathroom in the back of the plane.

Locking the door tightly, I turn to face myself in the mirror.

Clark, you are the BIGGEST idiot in the world.

[Cyrusbales]

[?]THE RIDDLER[?]


“Good morning, or is it afternoon? I guess you don’t know eh? ‘Tis rather dark here.”

Joely’s eyes felt heavier and wearier than the last time she remembered opening them. She had no way of telling how long she’d been there, but the growling in her stomach tended to suggest too long, then again, in this situation, any time was too long.

“Please, just let me go, and they might go easy on you.”

“Go easy on me? Bargaining would not seem to be something you of all people could do in your present state.”

“Just tell me what you want!”

“I want you to go home safely. I want to believe that there are some people who still have an ounce of grey matter behind the their dulled eyes these days.”

Was he insane? Or perhaps just living in his own little world, either prospect didn’t bode well for the young female detective.

“And how is keeping me prisoner going to make that happen?”

“Ah, for you see, this building is set for demolition, in roughly twenty or so hours, where you sit will be nothing more than a pile of rubble. However, should your partner manage to locate you in time, then your life will be saved. It all depends on how clever he is really.”

It was a game, a cruel challenge against authority, and Joely was nothing more than an inconsequential piece within this puzzle.”

“However, you can also free yourself, but not without challenge. Locked around your chest is a device which carries enough electrical charge to kill you fifty times over. Using the same technologies as criminal tracking bracelets, it’s triggered to go off should you leave the immediate vicinity of your location. You’ve got about ten feet in all directions I’d say.”

“Look, what has this got to do with anything? I’m not going to play these games!”

“Then you’ll die, by your own stupidity!”

Giving up on resisting, Joely knew she had to play his game.

“What do I have to do to spare myself?”

“Now that would be telling…”

************************************************** ****

Rigger hurriedly sped across town in a stolen pickup. He’d been given a task to do, and the outcome of failure would be certain death. Soon the detective Del Arrazio would catch up to him, and then the game would really begin…

[Harlekin]

http://img139.imageshack.us/img139/838/bannerua8.gif

“A man that doesn't spend time with his family can never be a real man.”
~ The Godfather (1972)

“Can’t you just do this for me, Jack?” Detective Del Arrazio asks over the telephone. “Yes, this is very important to me… Damn it Jack, does this everything have a price with you?... I’ll do it, yes, I promise… Thanks, Jack.” Vincent Del Arrazio places the phone back onto the receiver.
“Who was that?” Del Arrazio’s partner, Josephine “Josie Mac” MacDonald, asks as she walks into the break room.
“That’s none of your business.”
“Well, excuse me for breathing,” she responds as she rolls her eyes.

“Yo Del Arrazio, they’ve got a bead on Rigger!” Azeveda suddenly yells from across the room.

Del Arrazio and MacDonald exchange looks.

“Let’s move!”

* * *

“What you’ve got, Ger?”
“He’s barrelling down Kane and Finger right now,” Lt. Gerald Hennely replies. As he speaks, a dozen televisions show a variety of camera footage. Near Hennely, a computer keeps check of Rigger’s movements by tracking the police cars that are now following the criminal demolition expert.
“I’ve got the team at the ready,” Hennely continues as he points to the map on the computer. “I’ve got a sharpshooter sitting on the corner of Finger and O’Neil. A road block is forming here.” Hennely points to another corner. “Just say the word, Sergeant.”
“Any chance of civilians getting in the way?”

Hennely just looks at Del Arrazio in response.

“Do it.”

* * *

“Do it,” Hennely’s voice crackles over the radio.
“Done, Lieutenant.”

The stolen pick-up races through the street, two police cars in pursuit. As they near the corner, they slow down, but Rigger keeps on at his speed. When the shot rings through the air, time seems to slow. The right front tire of the car blows out, it starts to skid and turn. On the corner, it heads right into a lantern. Time returns to its regular speed as the car’s alarms start blaring and Joe Rigger’s face makes contact with the steering wheel’s airbag.

Slowly, the car’s door opens, and with a large gash in his forehead, Joe Rigger stumbles out of the car. The Quick Response Team is on him in seconds, holding him at gun-point. Grudgingly, he stops, raising his hands. He mumbles a few words, inaudible to the officers surrounding him. The officers approach him cautiously, one taking point.

The officer unwittingly comes too close, Rigger’s immense hands shooting out suddenly to grab the officer by the neck. Before the others can respond, the officer’s been disarmed and Rigger has taken control of his weapon. With his hand firmly around his hostage’s neck, Rigger points the gun at the other officers.

“Move, and he dies,” he says gruffly. “Get me Del Arrazio.”

* * *

“He wants you,” Hennely says as the report comes in over the radio.
“It’s a trap, Sarge, it’s got to be,” Josie Mac points out. “You can’t just hand yourself over.”
“I’ve got to, Mac. I’ve got no choice.”

* * *

Detective Del Arrazio slowly approaches Rigger and his hostage.

“Don’t do it, sir,” one of the officers offers, but Del Arrazio keeps walking.
“I’m here, Rigger, talk to me, let the guy go.”

Rigger just grins.

[Eddie Brock]

http://i166.photobucket.com/albums/u118/EBJ05/RPG%20Banners/Joker.gif

On the next day, the GCPD feel like they've won. The Joker is on a transport headed for Arkham Asylum once again. The madman has been contained.

Or so they thought.

"Julian Day," The Joker announces as he looks at the man seated across from him.

"How do you know my name?" the so-called 'Calendar Man' asks.

The Joker smiles naturally. There's no evil in this particular smile. In fact, were it not from the Clown Prince of Crime, this smile might look somewhat cordial. "You'd be surprised at what I know, Mr. Day," The Joker explains ominously.

Indeed, it does stir up a disturbing train of thought in the Calendar Man's head. He attempts to push it aside, but he knows the kind of man that is seated across from him.

"Do you know what today is significant?"

The Calendar Man is silent - waiting for an explanation.

"Today is the day that you will cheat death and help me escape," The Joker continues. As the Calendar Man ponders on this message, The Joker leaps across the van and wraps his handcuffs around Julian's throat. The Calendar Man gasps for help.

"Stop the van!" the Arkham guard yells from the passenger seat. The driver slams the brakes, and the van halts immediately. The guards get out and race around the back of the truck. Thrusting the doors open, they aim their guns at The Joker. "Put him down!"

"You want me to put him down?"

The guards look at each other before nodding.

"OK!"

The Joker pushes Julian forward - using his body to knock down the guards. As the guards struggle to get up, The Joker makes a break for it. His lanky legs contribute to his surprising speed. By the time the guards regain their composure, The Joker is almost out of sight.

The continue the search, but they are unable to locate the Clown Prince of Crime. Once again, The Joker has eluded the hands of justice.

[Byrd Man]

http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t302/BatmanRPG/One%20Year%20Later/batlogo.gif


"Keep it steady, Mister Wayne." Lucius Fox instructs over the headset. I'm flying high above Wayne Enterprise's proving grounds just outside of Gotham. The craft I'm flying is the prototype jet codnamed "Whisper" It was suppose to be the ultimate in spy technology, but the goverment didn't feel like paying twenty million. More for me then.

"Am I clear to land?"

"Go ahead, Mister Wayne."

Ever since taking over as head of the board, Lucius Fox has been looking to find his predecessor in the Applied Science division. Harold Allnut is that man. Harold has a doctorate in electronics and computer technology. He' also the sterotypical bookish genius. Glasses, bowtie, even a pocket protector.

"Nice and easy..."

I click on the jet's vertical boosters and it starts to descend towards the earth. It's as quiet as it's namesake as it comes to a rest on the ground next to Harold and Lucius. They approach the jet's cockpit as it opens and I step out. I notice Lucius' face for the first time, He has scratches on it from last night's riot at the manor. I think about all those dead and how worse it would have been had my darker persona not showed up.

"So what do you think, Mister Wayne?"

I tap the steel frame and smile.

"I'll take it..."

**************


http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t302/BatmanRPG/Batman3-10.jpg

I brood in the darkness while I look over Gotham. Sometime this evening, The Joker broke out of custody and is on the loose again. Maybe he was right, maybe the only way for the madness to end is to take his life....

No.

There has to be a line that seperates us, if I take his life then he's truly won. I only pause to leap from the ledge and glide towards the streets.

http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t302/BatmanRPG/Batman2-3.jpg

The night is young. There's a killer on the loose. And I have work to do.

[Eddie Brock]

The Joker's remaining men wait anxiously in the hideout. Last night, their leader was defeated. Tonight, he has escaped. They expect him to return any minute now.

Sure enough, the front door of the hideout swings open. The men can clearly see the silhouette of The Joker standing in the doorway. In one hand he holds a book - in the other, he holds an oversized pistol.

"Webster's Dictionary defines 'liability' as: 1. the quality or state of being liable."

The Joker then unexpected opens fire on the goon to his immediate right. The man falls instantly after a shot to the head.

"2. something for which one is liable."

The Joker then kills the next man in line.

"3. one that acts as a disadvantage."

The Joker kills a third man. Suddenly, the remaining men realize what's going on. They huddle in fear as the psychopath shuts the dictionary and trains his pistol again.

"Boss?"

The Joker sighs. "I've found that you gentlemen are DREADFULLY useless. From now on, The J-Man flies solo."

The Joker places the barrel of his gun on the temple of the henchman who spoke. With one swift pull of the trigger, the man's brains are splattered on the wall.

"But...we've been loyal!" another pleads.

"That you have," The Joker concedes, "But there is too much ORDER in that. This chain of command stands in stark contrast with my endgame scenario."

With a handful of bullets, The Joker wastes his remaining crew.

"Chaos."

[Eddie Brock]

Once Lois and I land in Gotham, we hail a taxi and head for our hotel. Lois is a little disgruntled after my conduct on the plane, and - frankly - I don't blame her. But that's just Clark being Clark.

"So, what's the gameplan, Lois?" I ask eagerly while grabbing our suitcases. Lois somehow manages to walk away with one bag. Meanwhile, I am forced to fumble with the remaining luggage. I don't mind, though.

Lois scoffs. "The gameplan? The gameplan is to have you not mess this up for me," Lois explains condescendingly. I don't take any offense by it. Lois has an abrasive personality that doesn't sit well with those who don't know her. I actually think it's pretty admirable. Lois doesn't take any bull from anyone.

When we get to the receptionist's desk, Lois explains that we're from the Daily Planet. The receptionist types away at the computer before frowning. "I'm sorry, but I don't see your reservation," she explains apologetically.

"What?!"

Before Lois gets out of hand, I intercede. "Miss, we need somewhere to stay tonight. So if you have any openings..."

The receptionist nods and goes back to her computer. After a few moments of searching, she reports, "I have a room. It's only one bedroom, though."

Lois has a look that can only be described as befuddled.

"Is there a couch or a cot?" I ask. Lois appears to be lost for words - for once.

"No couch, but we could bring a cot to your room," she explains.

I smile. "We'll take it."

After receiving the key, Lois and I head for the elevator. "It's a good thing you can get a cot. Otherwise, you'd be sleeping on the floor."

I smirk.

[Catman_prb]

1 a.m.
Warren had let himself into the apartment ten minutes earlier. Everything was as it had been when he had entered. He just sat in the armchair, facing the door and waited. And waited. Eventually he was rewarded by the sound of the occupants car pulling up in the dark street below. He heard muffled voices, and then two pairs of footsteps on the stairs of the apartment. The door creaked open.

"We never mention the events of that party again, understand?" said Alberto Falcone, the main target of Warren's hit.
"But Alberto, how come you hid under the table?" said Johnny Viti, his voice slurred by drink.
"SHUT THE HELL UP!?!" Alberto shouted. Then he paused, looking round the room.
"There's someone here Johnny," Alberto said looking round the room. His hand reached out for the light, and Warren shot him in the heart. From such close range, Alberto was blown backwards out of the doorway. Viti screamed, and Warren stood up. He grabbed Johnny Viti by the head, and twisted it round violently breaking the neck.

2 a.m.
Warren stole Faclone's car and drove to the next place he needed to go. This would be harder. He pulled up to a huge manor house, the gates manned by serious men in serious suits. They walked over as Warren wound the window down, one on each side of thecar. One man leaned his head in.

"Why are you here?" he asked, a deep gravelly voice. Warren turned so the moonlight showed his scarred, whitie face. The gangster moved his head back, but Warren pulled a knife from his jacket and stuck it in his neck. He pulled the pistol from his jacket and fired through the window of Alberto's car, hitting the man twice in the chest. He got out of the car, and searched the bodies of the dead men for the keys to the great gates. He found it on the one he had shot, who's body was still twitching. He walked up to the gates and opened them up, before going back to the car.

Warren drove up the long path to Falcone Manor, not paying attention to any of the men who were patrolling the garden. He reached the front door without attracting any attention, and got out, pulling his trenchcoat up around him to hide his face and walked up. There was a man guarding the door, at least twice the size of the men guarding the gate.

"Who're you?" he grunted. Warren ignored him, and walked forwards. The thug grabbed him by the shoulder.
"I said, who're you?" he stated, flexing his muscles. Warren looked at him, jagged teeth set in a grin. He didn't say anything but pulled the pistol out again and shot him in the face. The gorilla fell backwards as his head exploded. Warren casually stepped over his body, blood all over his trenchcoat, and entered Falcone Manor, leaving sticky red footprints as he walked.

He could hear raised voices from what appeared to be the dining hall. Warren walked towards it, his shoes sticking to the floor as he walked. He peaked his head in through the door to see a large meeting of people, with a woman in a feather boa and a cocktail dress at the head of the table.

"But Sofia!" one of the men shouted.
"Silence!" Sofia shrieked. Warren smiled, before entering the room.
"Who the **** are you?" another man asked. Warren stepped into the light.

"I'm the Great White Shark mother ****ers,"
Warren said in his rasping voice. The men started laughing, and Sofia watched him with interest.
"We're gonna need a bigger boat!" one of the men said in hysterics. Warren pulled the tommy gun from underneath his coat and mowed him down in a flurry of bullets. He span around, shooting two other men who were on the other side of the table. Within minutes the members of Sofia Falcone's inner circle were lying in great pools of their own blood. Sofia herself was left standing on her own, blood spattered all over her dress and drops on her face.

Warren walked towards her and she cringed as he grabbed her face and held it close to his own scarred one.
"Do you fear me?" he asked her, his hot breath on her cheeks. She nodded slowly.
"You should fear me. I could crush your skull in seconds. I own you now. Understand?" he rasped. She nodded, tears rolling down her cheeks. Warren could almost smell the blood on her flesh. He licked a large spec off her neck with his ice white tongue. She shivered. Warren threw Sofia to the floor.
"The Falcones are weak. IYou're all dying, understand? I'm in charge now," Warren said, standing amidst the pool of blood.

[Rain Dog]

The Scarecrow

"I’m glad you were all able to make it, gentlemen," Crane said to the group of men who stood before him. He had been keeping tabs on the Arkham inmates that had escaped into the Narrows with him and had summoned them to his new hideout. Many of them were run-of-the-mill hitmen and crooks that had been transferred into Arkham at Carmine Falcone’s request, others were legitimately insane. Either way, they would all be useful.

"Whaddaya want, Crane?" said Al Bolinski, a burly hitman who had previously worked for the Falcone family.

"Funding for my...experiments has been running low. I was hoping you’d be able to help me with that."

"What? You want a f***ing loan from us or somethin’?" Al said angrily.

"No, no. I’m requesting your assistance in a...heist, I guess you’d call it," Crane replied calmly as he paced in front of the crowd.

"And what exactly do you plan on doing?" inquired another inmate.

"Empire Bank. Tomorrow at noon. I’ve made all the necessary preparations I just need a crew to pull it off."

"What’s in it for us?" Al asked. He seemed to be showing interest.

"You get two thousand now, we split the money we get into equal shares."

"I thought you said you were broke."

"Not yet. I'm using what I have left to pay you. If you're interested, that is."

"And...you’ve got everything ready? A getaway plan? Guns?"

"Oh, yes. And we’ll only be needing one weapon," Crane said. The men all looked at each other in confusion.

"One weapon?" asked another inmate.

Crane nodded and proceeded to grab two suitcases from his desk. He set them down in front of the criminals and popped them both open. One was filled with what seemed to be ordinary Halloween masks. The inside of these masks were equipped with rebreathers much like Crane’s. The other suitcase was filled with metal canisters.
"Fear."

[Green Lantern]

1/17/2008, 12:33 PM, Special Agent Chase's office, FBI Field Office, Gotham City

Agent Chase sat with her head buried in her hands, behind her desk. Before they had gotten a hold of all the Etchison's and gotten them into safe houses, two more members of the family had gone missing. Chase assumed that either Elinore or Arnold Etchison was the Abattoir killer, but had no other leads to go on.

It had been nearly three weeks since the last murder, and the corrupt justice system in Gotham City was not giving her any help. No judge seemed willing to even giver her a search warrant.

"Agent Chase, you have a call coming through line one."

"Who is it?"

"Someone from the district attorney's office."

"Alright," Chase said as she picked up the phone. "Agent Chase, FBI. ... Really? ... Goddamn. ... It's about time."

As Chase hung up, the receptionist looked up. "About time for what?"

"We finally got a search warrant."

[Gallagher]

Harvey Dent

Aftermath, Part I
"Hey sleepy head." The sweet almost ethereal voice of Rachel Dawes was music to my ears. I slowly cracked open my eyes, wanting to look upon her sweet face. Light scorched my retinas but I had to push on.

"Been partying a little too hard Harv?" Bruce Wayne was there also.

"Ah leave it out Bruce, he's had a rough night." Jim Gordon too. I was in the hospital I guess. The white walls, white floors and white sheets kinda gave it away. I finally looked upon my visitors and realized there was one more. His back was turned. I was fascinated by this one. Why would he not show his face?

"Hello...?"

No reply. The others simply smiled staring at me with glazed over eyes. They didn't concern me.

"Who are you?" I called out to the mysterious man. Still no reply. There was something wrong, I was drawn to this guest. My anger bubbled beneath the surface. Why would he not look at me?

"HEY!" The still did not move.

"FACE ME!" I screamed. This time he reacted. He turned on me, shouting, screaming, his face a red bloody, bubbling mess.

"ARRGHHHHH!!"

****

"Mr Dent! Jesus! Be careful you'll rip your stitches." I looked around, I was still in the hospital, my bed was wet with sweat, my side saw from the stab wound. A nurse hurried over to me, lifting up my gown and checking the stitching. "It was just a dream. Looked like a real ***** of one too." She reassured me. I sighed to myself, laying back in my hospital bed.

"Just a dream." I repeated. "A nightmare."

[Byrd Man]

http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t302/BatmanRPG/One%20Year%20Later/batlogo.gif

"No, please! LET ME GO!"

I stare at the pusher dangling by his feet with pure disdain. I'm crocuhed on a building's ledge, he's out over the ledge: looking down at the pavement thirty stories below.

"The Joker. His men. Tell me where their safehouse is. NOW!"

I remove a small knife from one of my belt pouches and place the blade on the rope holding him up.

"If I tell, he'll kill me!"

I apply pressure to the rope with my blade. The rope's fibers starts to snap and the unwilling informant starts to descend towards the ground.

"You're dead either way."

"NO!"

I slice the rope in half and he starts to plummet.

"AHHH!!!"

I act quickly, removing my grapnel gun and aiming it at my snitch. The rope wraps around his arm and he stops his freefall.

"NOW TELL ME!!"

"Okay, man! For the love of god. Oh ****, I think I pissed my pants!"

"Talk!"

"Okay!"

He breaks down, his tears run up his face as he stumbles to talk.

"They're in some run down factory on The East End! A run down candy company or something."

I scowl as he tells me the information, I should have known to look there. It fits his modus operandi perfectly.

"Now let me go!"

I use one arm to jerk him out of the air and back onto the rooftop. He quickly scrambles to get up.

"Now, mother****er. It's my turn!"

He reaches into his coat and pulls a pistol as he stands up. By the time he levels his sight at me, I'm gone. Lost into the night.

[Batman]

http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t302/DCMarvelRPG/Supporting%20Characters/Jim%20Gordon/GordonBanner.gif

The phone rings for the seventh time in the last hour. A tad extreme, I'm aware, but mother of Christ, I'm convinced this is never going to stop.

I don't even take into consideration that the call could be coming from the Mayor, or worse yet, Loeb himself, as I pick up the reciever and slam it back down. Hard. I've practically grown so used to the sound of it's ring that a bomb could go off in the city, and I'd be none the wiser.

Of course, with the way things have been in the last few hours, that wouldn't come as much of a surprise, either. Ever since the fiasco at that Wayne benefit last night, with that freak in clown makeup, the city's gone into a panic. And it's not just the people who were there... it's everyone. I've heard murmurs all over the department all morning. Traffic was lined up worse than usual, on the way to the Adams bridge, just so people could leave the city for good. The news won't stop on the coverage. And worse, it's even hit close to home.

I take off my glasses, and turn around in my chair, rubbing the bridge of my nose. God. My best friend's lying in a hospital bed right now with a twelve inch stab entry wound. Doctors said he'll be fine, but damn it, I should be there. Not sitting here and listening to panicked citizen after panicked citizen tell me how bad of a job I'm doing for letting that Joker creep get away. Sometimes, I see how Loeb can be so uptight about being Commisioner. It just doesn't stop...

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Thank god, though, for Batman. And that's something of which I never thought I'd say, until now. Over the past few months, my relationship with him has been... scarce, if anything. He's lining up the bad guys, I'm booking them. Just like it's been ever since he came into the picture. At first, I was a little disturbed by that proposition... of leaving my duty to him, of all people. But after last night, and the lives he prevented from being taken from that maniac? Well, I may just sleep soundly more often.

Not anytime soon, mind you. Not while that killer's still on the streets.

*BZZT**BZZT**BZZT*

I look down at the cellphone clipped to my pocket. My stomach turns. Even my own personal phone can't give me a break. It's a wonder none of this happened when we lived in Chicago...

Placing my glasses back on my face, I sigh, and open it up. Strange device, this thing is. I'll never understand these electronics. But Babs... little Babs, insisted I get one. And it's hard to say no to a face like that. I press a button, and hold the damn thing to my ear. If it's another councilman, I'll have their head sent to my desk...

"Gordon, here.", I respond, already annoyed.

"So you're speaking to me now?"

My eyes widen. The slammed reciever. Barbara. It was Barbara. Mother of...

"...Sorry about that, honey.", I explain, leaning back into my chair. "Guess I've just been having a bad day."

"So it seems. Jim, are you alright?"

I'm silent, for a moment.

"No."

"No?"

I almost don't respond. Just because I know what I'm going to say.

"Should I be?", I ask. "Harvey, my best friend Harvey's sitting in the hospital right now. The man was almost killed, when he's supposed to be the one saving this god forsaken town. Do you realize what would've happened if he did succumb to that attack?"

Staring up at the ceiling, my brow furrows, as I continue.

"Then there's that maniac at the party last night. Everyone's chewing me out about his escape. Me, not Loeb, just because he had the luxury of taking a flight out of the country the minute that all of this crap started up. And it's not just the scared guys either, Barbara. It's the cops. All the people I'm supposed to be a figurehead for, and I let them down."

"Jim, don't..."

"I mean it, Barbara.", I cut off, closing my eyes. "I let them all down..."

"No, you didn't.", Barbara interjects. "Listen to me, James Gordon. I know you're upset over this, but what that maniac did to your friend wasn't your fault. Beating yourself up for something beyond your control is never the kind of man you've been. Why start now?"

She's right, of course. She's always right. That's why I married her... she seems to bring me out of the corners of despair I could never crawl out of myself. But there's no denying it... something's amiss, now. There may be a long road ahead in trying to get things back to normal...

"Because things are different now. Things are changing,", I respond.

"Feels like damn near everything is changing..."

It's pitch black by the time I make it to the roof. Told Detective Allen to take over for me while I was on break. Good kid. He's gonna make it far in this department, if Loeb doesn't prematurely strike him down. But there was nothing else I could do. Nothing I'm doing to try and cope with this disaster of a situation makes sense. Only one thing does, anymore. And it lies within that damn signal.

I turn on the switch, just as the flame hits the end of my cigarette. If anyone can help us out and finally get that clown behind bars, it's him. And that alone almost scares me. But regardless...

http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t302/BatmanRPG/Begins/cap038.jpg

Now, I play the waiting game.

But all in all, as I stare up at the skies, expecting something to leap back out at me, I silently wonder if it gets on his nerves, like the calls get on mine...

[Eddie Brock]

"Do you see that?" The Joker asks one of his dead henchmen. He has either been too lazy to clear out the bodies - or perhaps he likes the company.

The television screen flashes with images of reporters, Wayne Manor, and The Joker's mugshots.

"I knew the Joker Venom was just the thing I needed to REALLY get this town in a panic!"

He peers over at the dead goon and smiles.

"I guess I owe our friend Doctor Crane, eh?"

The Joker watches the new broadcast silently. Suddenly, the report changes from a story about the horrifying Joker to a story about the mysterious Batman.

The Joker's smile fades as he sees the face of his adversary. Grabbing a gun from the holster of one of his former employees, The Joker fires several shots at the screen.

When the television has been effectively destroyed, The Joker laughs and states aloud, "Well, now how am I supposed to watch my favorite shows?"

And the sound of The Joker's maniacal laughter echoes throughout the warehouse.

[Byrd Man]

http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t302/BatmanRPG/One%20Year%20Later/batlogo.gif


Now, I play the waiting game.

But all in all, as I stare up at the skies, expecting something to leap back out at me, I silently wonder if it gets on his nerves, like the calls get on mine...

I appear out of the shadows and crouch on the Bat-Signal.

http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t302/BatmanRPG/UltBatmanLogo-2.jpg

"What?"

My tone is harsher than I hoped for. Lieutenant is my most valuable, actually he's my only source in the Gotham PD. I don't want to anger him and end our arrangement, The Joker's on the loose and we could both be out there searching for him instead of on this rooftop.

[MST3K 4ever]

Oswald looks over the books at the lounge and for the first time in a long time smiles at his book-keeper Arron Schaffer

He says, "The business venture in Mexico was an unqualified success, and now because of our financial good fortune there we can now look at expanding the club's operations here in Gotham. Contact Mr. Wittington in the main street area and find out if any of the businesses are looking to sell at this time."

Arron leaves as he summons his bodyguard Louis and says, "Go to the main-street district take two other gentlemen with you and see if any of the business owners might be persuaded to sell at this time."

Louis leaves as Oswald again smiles.

[Harlekin]

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
~ Robert Frost, The Road Not Taken

There was a city once, it went by the name of Gotham.

Its buildings were grey, muted. Life had been sucked out of Gotham long ago.

Some question it ever had any life at all.

Of course, he never doubted it, not even when the city took his parents.

When Bruce Wayne, socialite son, at the fragile age of eight, became something else entirely.

Became the Batman.

Became a legend.

Many years from now, Gotham will no longer exist. It will be just a faded memory, a piece of décor to be thrown away.

For a brief, shining moment, however, it was there.

They were there.

The good, the bad and everyone in between.

Lieutenant James Gordon, the incorruptible, a beacon for all who adhere to the light.

The Joker, ultimately just a twisted clown, but forever an icon to the most evil of man.

Harvey Dent, a man forever torn between both sides of the coin.

Guardians, law enforcers, crime bosses and rule breakers.

There was Harvey Bullock, will he ever solve the murder of the Gotham Knights football team? District Attorney Rachel Dawes, harassed by Lew Moxon and his gang, will she find justice? Will Vincent Del Arrazio ever be able to rescue his partner, and put the murderous Riddler behind bars? Does Cameron Chase succeed in finding and arresting the Abbatoir killer?

Will Oswald Cobblepot, the man known as the Penguin, ever run Gotham, as he so clearly desires? Is Selina Kyle ever going to make her big score, and maybe string along a Bat along the way? Waylon Jones, the dangerous Killer Croc, will he find peace? Riddle me this, is the Riddler ever going to get caught? Will Jonathan Crane get his revenge on the Batman? Does Alberto Falcone survive the hit on his life and become the capo di tutti capi of Gotham? Or will Mr. White succeed instead?

Questions, questions, and no answers.

But at least we tried.

Thank you.

THE END?