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Old 12-02-2011, 04:49 PM   #85
Byrd Man
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Join Date: May 2006
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Default Re: The Ultimate DC RPG - Season III






Previously



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Originally Posted by Byrd Man View Post

The sack over my head is starting to chafe. I'm still a little woozy. A cattle prod to the gut will do that to you. I've lost track of time. Handcuffed and in the back of this van, I could be halfway to Opal City for all I know. The roads turn bumpy and stay that way for the last five minutes of the trip. The driver puts the car in park and yanks me out. I hear bugs and smell the stink of the mud and stagnant water.

Oh, God...I'm in Slaughter Swamp.

The man behind me puts his hands on my shoulders and drives me to my knees. He yanks the sack off and the headlights of a car in front of me are right in my face.

"I'm so disappointed in you, Eddie," a voice wheezes on the other side of the lights. I hear the squeak of something being pushed through the mud and the voice's owner comes into sight.

Jim Gordon in a wheelchair being pushed by Harvey Bullock.

"I had such high goddamn hopes for us....but you ruined it. What you're getting, you deserve every damn bit of."

Funny thing is that he's not wrong. Just a few hours ago, I sold him out to the FBI. He's going to jail and I get off scot-free.

Bullock walks up to me and punches me in the face with brass knuckles on. I hear something snap as I fall into the mud. The nose that Batman broke just broke again. The blood's pouring out my nose, one of my back molars is broken and bleeding. Bullock grabs me by my hair and snaps my head back up. Gordon is staring at me intently.

"You've got twelve hours, Nygma. Leave town, don't go to the FBI. If you do, I promise you I will burn you."

The pain in my face and mouth is almost unbearable, but still...I chuckle.

"Hahahahahaha...HAHAHA! You don't get it you dumb son of a *****! I've already went to the FBI, I've got full immunity. I gave them everything. You're the one who's burned!"

"Leave. Town." Gordon says. "Or I promise you that you will suffer."

Bullock kicks me in the stomach. I dry heave and vomit a mix of my last meal and blood. Looking back up, I spit and hit Gordon in the face with it.

"Do your worst, it doesn't matter. My deal is set and my testimony is signed and notarized. You're ****ing done and you can't do anything about it. While you were in a coma, I ****ed you wife. She said I was the best she ever had. I've fantasized about ****ing your daughter. While you were out, I nearly killed you. How does that feel?! HUH?!"

Bullock brings the brass knuckles back across my head and everything goes black.

I come to a few hours later, laying in the back seat of my car. My face is aching and throbbing all over. It hurts to even breathe. Laying on my lap is a .38. There's a note attached to it.

"Nygma, leave town now, or put this to good use."

I pick the gun up and open the cylinder. There's one bullet in it. The message is clear, but **** their message. This one bullet is meant for only one man.

Jim Gordon.

And they just gave me a gun that can't be traced back to me at all. Only a few more hours before I go into FBI custody. **** their case, my deal is done, so **** them. Tonight, Gordon dies by my hand.




******



IC: Jim Gordon

After the foray into Slaughter Swamp, Bullock brings me back to Gotham Central. Despite what he said, I think we put a good scare into him. In a little while, all his cards are gonna go up in smoke. He'll have no choice but to run.

"Jim," Sarah says from the doorway. I turn around to face her. I think about what Nygma said in the swamp, about what he did with her. That's a lie, it has to be. We can worry about that later, there's more pressing needs right now.

"What was in the box?" I urgently say.

"Jim...Jim, the box was empty."

My stomach drops and a cold pit begins to form in it. No...

"It can't be! It had to have something in it!"

"It was empty, Jim, empty...What was in it?"

"That was our ticket out of this," I moan. "Our one chance at survival. Nygma's already told the FBI at us...he's won."

I hang my head and stare at the floor.

"No..." I whisper out. "No, no, no, NO!!" I scream, my whispers turning into shouts. I break down, putting my head in my hands and crying.

"Jim," Sarah says reassuringly, touching my shoulder.

"No!" I scream out, shaking away her hand. "We're gonna spend the rest of our lives in prison, Barbara will go into foster care. All those criminals, all those people we put away, they're going to eat us alive Sarah!"

"What do we do?"

I look at the bottom drawer of my desk and then look back up at her.

"There's another way..."



******



IC: Vic Sage

Inside my apartment, I put Driver's notebook down next to the CD. I've listened to the CD twice now, and read through the notebook three times.

It's all there, everything anyone would need. My work on the Kane case, coupled with Driver's findings puts it all together. That case is down and then some.

But his other testimony, that's the end of it. I know Stan hired me to work the case, but this is something the GCPD can't be trusted with. I look over at the business card laying on the coffee table and pick it up. Pulling out my phone, I dial the number on the card.

"Hello?"

"Special Agent Spencer? This is Vic Sage. I have some information you might want."


IC: Marcus Driver
Six Months Ago

"Our informant gave us a good tip, Maroni will be attending the wedding of his niece tonight. Maroni is expected the leave the country after this. Now, the plan of attack..."

Ngyma continues to drone on inside the briefing room and I tune him out. I have no idea what down between him and Gordon during the Holiday case, but whatever it was won Gordon over big time. We got the order two weeks ago to welcome him back into the fold. He's even getting a fancy promotion. Inspector or some ****. It'll be harder to make fun of him behind his back with that one. The way he said "Lew-tenant" in his ****ed up hillbilly accent was ripe for mockery.

Bullock pokes me in the ribs and motions to the door. Gordon is standing outside the room, looking at me. I stand up and walk to him.

"Sir?"

"Follow me, Marcus. Out to my car."

We head down to the parking garage and climb inside his car.

"What's all this about?"

He pulls out a cigarette and takes his time lighting it. Gordon takes a long drag off of it before he exhales.

"Starting to tonight, I want you to buddy up to Nygma. Get in close, learn what you can about him. Above all else, you watch him like a hawk."

"Why me? Why not Bullock?"

"Bullock is smart, but he can be too smart for his own good sometimes. I trust you and I know your loyal. Plus, I believe there's a little matter between you and Nygma that needs to be settled, right?"

I touch the bridge of my nose on instinct. It's healed now, but Nygma pistol whipped me so bad that it had to be set twice in order to heal properly.

"What do I have to do?"

"Here," Jim says, handing me a slip of paper. "This is a safety deposit box at the Gotham Savings and Loan, the account is in your name. You find anything tonight, you put your findings inside the box and leave this paper on my desk. I'll know we have something and I'll go see what it is."

"Yes, sir...and, Commissioner, if I may ask, why? I thought Nygma was welcomed back with open arms?"

"You don't need to know the specifics, Marcus, but remember that old proverb about keeping your friends close and your enemies closer..."

Twelve hours later, I'm laying underneath a table on the roof of the Gotham Ritz as all hell breaks loose. Mobsters and cops shoot it out while the bystanders panic and run. I peek out from underneath the tablecloth and see a green pant leg running by. Nygma.

I pull myself out from the table and watch as Nygma chases off after Maroni. A mobster across the room takes aim and Nygma with his pistol. Racking a load into my shotgun, I blow the criminal away and chase after Nygma. He follows Maroni, and now there's a woman following him. Dark haired with a piece in her hands, she looks oddly familiar.

I can't follow Nygma with her, so I run through the chaos and take the elevator, along with another panicked and frightened wedding goer. I hope I guessed right and Nygma is headed for the street. I run through the lobby of the Ritz and out into the street. Nygma's car is still here. I jump in mine and watch as Nygma gets into his car and waits. Maroni runs out and jumps into a sports car, speeding off. Nygma waits and goes the other way, hightailing out of there.

I start my car and follow after Nygma. He pulls in front of an office building and goes inside. A few minutes later, Maroni pulls up and goes inside. Ten minutes later, I hear it.

KRASH!

"AHHHHH!"

A body tumbles through the air and lands on the ground with a splat. Nygma's leaning out the window, looking down. I duck and try to avoid being seen as Nygma gets in and drives off. I wait and follow, slowing down to only look at the bloody body of Sal Maroni.

I pick up speed and follow Nygma. He heads out of the city to the suburbs. He pulls up to a house. I kill the lights to my car and coast to a stop halfway down the block. I look on in as Nygma gets out the car, a ski-mask on his face, and pulls out Molotov cocktails. He lights them and tosses them at the house, setting it ablaze before he drives off. I watch the house burn, stunned at what just happened.

Gordon wanted leverage he got it.

BZZZT!

"Hello?" I say into my phone.

"Marcus," Bullock says into the phone. "There's been a shooting."

"At the Ritz? Yeah, I know, I-"

"Not that, dumbass...some shot the Commish. He's on the way to Gotham General, head full of bullets."

Screams begin to come from the house. I hang up on Bullock and speed out of the area before anyone gets a good look at me. Jim got what he wanted, but what do I do with what I do?

I decide to follow his orders to the letter, writing up a report about last night's events and placing them inside the safety deposit box. A week later, I go the extra mile after I hear cops recovered DNA at the crime scene. Shard of glass had DNA on it, the Molotov cocktails were empty beer bottles. That night I dig through the trash in Nygma's office and find an empty soda can. The crime lab runs the results for me: Perfect match. I leave the slip of paper on his desk, informing him there's information in the box. If and when he wakes up, it's there for him.



******


IC: Jim Gordon

The door in my office is locked. Sarah sits down in a chair facing me. It's the only way out either one of us can see. In prison, we'd both bed dead within a few years. This way, we go out on our own terms.

"Here it is," she says, pulling her old service pistol from her purse. "The one they gave me straight out of the academy."

"Same here." I look towards the service revolver on my desk. I remember Sergeant Peters giving it to me on my first day on the beat. Every night I got home,I cleaned. Four years in patrol, I never fired it. Still haven't fired it.

"I love you, Sarah. You know that right?"

"Of course. I could tell you were falling for me two weeks into the job."

"I was a sergeant then," I say with a chuckle. "My hair was darker. Flass and I used to tear the East Side apart...we thought we were gonna change this city for the better...well, we changed it at least."

Sarah leans forward and kisses me, I close my eyes and breath in her intoxicating smell one more time.

"Alright," I say, fighting back tears. "Let's get on with it."

I hold my revolver up and point it at Sarah's head. She aims her pistol point blank at my face. I try to thumb back the hammer of the revolver, but my weak muscles can't do it.

"Here..."

She takes the gun from my hand and thumbs the hammer back before handing it back to me. My hand is shaking when I aim again.

"Jim...I love you...I don't know..."

"Ssssh...it's alright, honey. If you can't go through with it, I'll do it myself. What's one more body on my conscience, right?"

We place the barrel of our guns to each other's foreheads. I close my eyes and swallow hard.

"Count of three, we go...1...2..."

BZZZT!


Sarah's phone goes off and I nearly leap out of skin. I pull my gun away from her head.

"Ignore it."

"Answer it. Just see who it is."

With her free hand, Sarah pulls the phone out of her pocket.

"Hello?....What?....What?! No...we'll be there."

"What's wrong?"

"That was Bullock...you won't believe what just happened."
******



IC: Edward Nygma



Waiting in the alley beside the Gordon house, the revolver Gordon gave me in my hands. I called the hospital, he was checked out last night. Gotham Central is like a fortress, there's no way in hell I can get within shooting distance of him. Sooner or later, he'll come home. I've got eight more hours before I enter federal custody, plenty of time.

My plan is to break into his house and wait for him. It was good enough for Michael Akins, it's good enough for me. But before I start my home invasion, my phone starts ringing...Cursing under my breath, I check caller ID. Spencer.

"Hello?" I whisper.

"Nygma...where are you?"

She sounds cautious. Weighing her words carefully. Why?

"Wrapping up some business. I've got time. I'll be alright."

"Right...how long is that gonna take."

"I'll show up when it's time! Why do you care? What are you dragging your feet about?"

It clicks. She's stalling...they're tracing the call.

"What the **** have you done?!"

"Me? I'm not the one who firebombed the DA's house!"

All the breathe gets sucked out of me. They know...no, nobody knew.

"What are you talking about?"

"Vic Sage turned in some files Marcus Driver had stashed. He was a smarter cop than even you knew. He kept records on you, investigated the fire. He found your DNA at the scene. You lied to us, Nygma. The deal is off. We're charging you with it all."

"No...NOOOO!"

I slam my phone into the round and stomp on it, crushing it until it's in tiny parts. A car pulls up in the driveway and I stride towards it, palming the gun in my hand. When I turn the corner, Barbara Gordon is standing there, opening the front door. I stop short and look at her, she stares at me with a suspicious look. Suddenly, all my anger disappears.

"I'm...I'm sorry. I was looking for your dad."

"He's at work with my stepmom. Do I know you? You look familiar."

I'm the man who fantasized about you, stalked you, obsessed over you.

"Yeah...I was here last year, when that crazy guy tried to kill your dad."

"Nygma. Yeah, that's it. Sorry, he's not here. I can take a message if you want."

I walk towards her until we're standing face to face.

"Do....do you think I could ask a favor of you?"

"What?"

"Can I give you kiss? It's just that...I could use one."

"What? No! Mister Nygma...that's kinda weird."

"I'll be quick, I promise."

I hear a siren from somewhere off in the distance and chill races down my spine. They're coming for me, no doubt the FBI knows where I am.

"I'm sorry, Barbara. I'm sorry for what I've done to your family. It's all my fault. All I ever wanted was to love you."

Before she can respond, I'm running towards my car. The sires are getting closer. I take off down the street as the FBI cars come into view at the end of the block. I take a left and speed up. I can get away...I can make it to...

No. I'm as desperate as Maroni was at the end. I'm done. All that I have to look forward to is spending the rest of my life in prison. I pull over to the side of the road and pull out the revolver. One bullet in the cylinder. This is the best way to do it. I spin the cylinder and snap it shut, shoving the barrel into my mouth.

1 in 6 chance. 1 in 6 chances for someone to get the justice I robbed them of.

One chamber for Selina Kyle. Close my eyes and squeeze the trigger.

CLICK!

One chamber for Vic Sage.

CLICK!

One Chamber for Michael Akins.

CLICK!

One chamber for Bette Kane.

CLICK!

FBI cars pull up behind me. Agents with their guns out approach my car. **** them.

"NYGMA! DROP THE GODDAMN GUN, NOW!"

Tears running out of my face. No, be a man. Daddy would like it like that. Stop pissing my pants, stop playing those ****ing games! You goddamn riddler!

One chamber for...Gilda. Squeeze the trigger. In the end, Edward Nygma survi-

BLAM!

__________________
"These are the times that try men's souls... Tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered; yet we have this consolation with us, that the harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph."
-- Thomas Paine


"People never lie so much as after a hunt, during a war or before an election."
-- Otto von Bismarck


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