Promises shall be kept - The Rodrigo90 FanFic section

[Rodrigo90]

Now, I'm not saying I'm deserving of my own thread, because I don't consider myself anything special in the writing world. I'm an ideas man. But I have promised a few around here that I would provide them with stories that they seem very keen to read, this ranges from my BvS script, to the MOS script I have been working on. I stated I could potentially improve where others found fault with the movie, and let me say, it's not as easy as what we think

But I am writer and it's been my passion since I first listened to the stories my teachers would read to us in school. Always in awe, I was. I would attempt to mimic those tales of adventure and I would usually either receive praise from my teacher, or some critical words - and they would always help me craft upon improving from my mistakes.

And I can't thank all of you here enough for giving me praise on my ideas and short stories. To be nominated for best writer, and for anyone who has voted for me, I couldn't be more grateful, it's a wonderful feeling.

And I felt this section was a little bare, so I hope to bring others along here and so we may share our tales together
And I will complete my scripts I promised! From Clark Kent in the Middle East, learning how much the world needs a hero, to Batman attacking him with his hundreds of Bat-Drones, mimicking as Gargoyles upon Gotham's rooftops, to the entire plot being orchestrated by Lex Luthor in order to get his hands on Brainiac's skull from the Russian Government, it'll be done.
And I shall be posting other tales of heroes and villains alike.
And again, thank you for all the kindness and support you guys have given me over the last few years of being here!
Enjoy your New Year!

 

[Rodrigo90]

Reading Edgar Allan Poe a few nights ago, and remembering Grant Morrison's style of writing, especially his AASHOSE, I was inspired to write a short tale of Bruce Wayne's decision to become Batman. And a shout out to KillerWolf for bringing uo the idea of the bat dying, so that Bruce may take it's life, for his own. Nothing amazing, but it was fun and spooky to write, which I enjoyed

Manor doors swung open, sweeping inside the empty dark, hallway, the cold night breeze and the bitter aroma of blood. Falling to his knees, hands placed upon the floor, he pushed a breath of exhaustion from his lungs. The night had been a failure of a night and now he was dying. Little strength in his body, but strength as strong as iron in his heart and soul, he forced himself to his feet. Venturing through the eternal darkness, it seemed to push and pull him, screaming for him to enter that one room he dared not...A room filled with such memories, both wonderful and tragic. Was it blood he saw upon the door, the shadows from the trees or did he simply imagine it...In his father's study, he heard a sound, a sound he had not heard so terrifyingly close since he was a child. It was loud and it was cruel. Upon his face, he felt a touch he had not felt since that one fateful night, the warm, gentle hand of a woman long dead, a woman he called "Mother". Upon his shoulder, a hand of strength and of authority guided him to the chair in the corner, where he sat. It was the hand of "Father".

*No longer feeling these touches, he felt alone once again. Darkness clouded his vision, the shadows of the room slowly died as the light dulled. The thunder outiside turned to the sound of gunshots and the rain turned to blood,*he didn't have to see to know it.

"Mother. Father. I shall be joining you soon," he whispered into the abyss. Not a whisper from his lips, but from his mind. His mind soon began to sink into the pits of terror and torture. Upon looking, with closed eyes, he saw them, he was not among them though, only watching. Men of evil. The most cruelest and evil of men, having their eyes removed from their sockets, their tongues removed from their mouths, their hands taken away, leaving behind blood, pouring as if from a waterfall. Demons, stripping their tools of evil away from them. Then, he saw the man that caused him so much pain. The man who stole his beloved Mother and Father. His tool of evil pressed against his evil mind, the Angel's beckoning for the victim of this evil, to finish him. A shivering and unsure hand reached for the tool of evil, wrapping itself around. Then, he felt them again...the hands of Mother and Father, slowly guiding him away. The struggle had been great, but he was not to be a man of evil. No wish or desire. The desire for revenge was great, but at the cost of his soul, he would dare not. Mother and Father had come to remind him of this. Not to guide him into eternal light, nor to whisper their disappointments for his failure. The greatest failure he could make they told him, was to become the evil that took them away from him.

"Do not become what you see before you, my son. For you shall forever linger in a place that we will not" whispered Mother's sweet voice. A shiver run down his spine upon those words.

"You shall not die, my son. You have much to do," whispered father, his voice stern and powerful.

"At night's end, when the moon falls and the sun rises, forever, is the time we shall be reunited, my son," whispered Mother. She presented him a gentle kiss in the cheek, warm and comforting. He missed those kisses, terribly.

Before he could tell Mother and Father how much he missed, loved and longed for them, they were gone and he was back in the study. Bleeding, but not dying, he peered into the darkness. It was soothing, like Mother's gentle, warm hand, her kiss, upon his cheek. In those days of idol youth, Mother comforted him in his fear of the darkness, while Father pushed him to face and embrace it. Years later, he had conquered his fear of the darkness and the thoughts of what creatures lay inside it - Father would be proud. But now, he asked, whispering into the darkness, from his lips, straight from the bowels of his soul -

"Father. Mother. I need a tool. A tool to fight the evil that took you from me. I promise to never become what you warned me. I must finish the work I have started."

Then, he heard it again, from the dark outside. The sound from his childhood. It grew louder and louder. The sound of a thousand creatures of night, screeching in the attempt to gnaw at his flesh and strip away his soul. No longer did he fear, but welcomed them. Then, as if by magic, black as night, one of these creatures of night flew into the room, from out the cold night air, away from of gunshots and raining blood. He heard the sound of shattering glass, but could not see it. He observed as this great figure of darkness, casting shadow upon him, flapped it's giant wings around the room, showering tiny droplets of blood. Some landed on a portrait of Mother. The creature eventually came to settle on a bust of Father, the blood running down his stern face, cast forever in stone. The creature stared at him and he at the creature. Looking into it's eyes, he saw visions of Angels holding the men of evil under their swords, each one brought before the judgement of God. It was a world where darkness and shadows were stripped of their meaning and lost to the light, but forever in remembrance and gratitude.

The creatures eyes then turned, changing into the eyes of the man staring into them. It was a reflection, he saw a reflection. He had become the creature...Wings rising, it screamed at him, before falling to the floor in a heap. The man looked at the creature, now dead. He looked at the portrait of Mother. He looked at the bust of Father. Blood dripping down their faces...the creature's blood - their blood. He lost consciousness , but not before whispering beyond the abyss

"Yes, Mother. Yes, Father. I shall become a Bat."

 

[Venom'sDad]

Dude...that was good.

 

[Rodrigo90]

Dude...that was good.

Thank you!

 

[Rodrigo90]

Wrote this just now.

It's a letter, from the Joker, talking about his past to Harley! Enjoy!

My dear doctor Quinn - Harley. I appreciate you for your patience and understanding during this difficult time of my incarceration here at arkHAM. I realise that I must be a pain in the rectum for you and the other doctors here and for that, I must sincerely apologise for my behaviour. That business with the scissors cutting off more than my other doctor's hair the other day, my goodness! I don't know what came over me. These past few nights, I have lay here, in my padded cell, in my straightjacket, and thought of nothing but you. It comes as a relief to be released for that one hour, so that I may write to you. You're such an amazing woman. You wouldn't know this, but I caught a glimpse of you smiling at another doctor the other day, and I couldn't help but think to myself

"MY GOD! THAT SMILE IS UNLIKE ANYTHING I'VE SEEN!"

Such a pretty smile. Pretty, pretty, pretty prety pertty...

Sorry, lost myself in thought there! Hahahahahahahaha!!! You'll find I do that when I think/look at you.

You wanted to know about my past in our last session and I told you to go take off on a broom, do you remember? Heheehee!!

Well, I'm ready to reveal myself, but I will start us off in this letter.

I grew up in a little village, somewhere in the world. Where is of little importance. My father was a priest and my mother was an actress and dancer. On Saturday evenings, I would attend the local theatre to watch my mother rehearse or perform in a play. On Sunday mornings, I would attend church and listen to my father's sermons. On Monday mornings, I would attend school and tell all my little buddies about my weekend. You know what they do? They would laugh at me. I would be called all sorts of terrible names, like queer and ***.

Simply because I would enjoy the theatre and church. So, as you can probably tell, my childhood was devoid of any friendship. The children that weren't cruel, who tried reaching out to me, I pushed away...often physically. My only true friend was our small dog, whom I nicknamed Laughing Gravy, after one of my favorite Laurel and Hardy shorts. He was my only companion, silly as it may sound.

Growing up and leaving school, I soon obtained a job in my mother's theatre. I would sweep the floors and serve the tea to all the actors and actresses. It wasn't much, but I enjoyed it. There, I met a young girl, whom I fell deeply in love with...Come to think of it, she looked an awful lot like you, dear Harley! She possessed the most beautiful eyes and smile I had ever seen in my life - at the time. Unfortunately, she was already marries to a handsome, young actor...Oh, how I despised him. Filled with such hatred and jealousy. My fists would clench and tremble whenever I would see him. Those feelings, I realised, were unhealthy and they made me feel great anger towards myself. For not is the way of the Christian, to walk down such a path...it would bring ruin to me.

I consulated with my father...upon which, he announced to me that my feelings were sinful, not just towards him, but her as well. He told me -

"Son, your desire for this girl, will lead you down the path of sin. It is better for you to cut out both your eyes, than have your soul burn in Hell!"

That's what he said, can you believe that?! My father's words of wisdom straight from the good book, were eventually becoming a great, big, fat nuisance to me.

Anyway, to combat my feelings, I soon took up acting on the stage, beside my mother. I was everybody's favourite clown, performing comedy routines based on the things I loved as a child...and the laughter that I drew? I enjoyed it, so much. It was addictive. I felt like a genius up on the stage, that I could do and say anything I wanted. Whatever it was, it made people laugh. I didn't care of they thought of me as the fool, I was the happiest I had been in a long, long while.

But guess what? My father disapproved of this. He didn't like to see his son up on the stage, acting like the fool.

He said all my performances were ridiculous. I was hurt. So hurt.

So, after that, I decided to quit the theatre. I wasn't quite old enough to work in a bar, but the owner of the establishment allowed me.

I told my mother and father that I had took up work in a little cafe.

Night after night in that bar, it depressed me to death! The stories I would hear from each drunk, it actually broke my spirit. But I would listen intently to everyone of them. Some would tell tales of losing their homes, others would go on about losing their wives and children...

I tried, Harley...but there was nothing I could do to cheer them up. Nothing I could do to cheer poor me up, either. I guess I fell into depression after that. I was broken. But I would do anything to stay out of that house, away from my father as far as I could be.

Then, one night, as I was leaving the bar, I thought I heard a voice whisper something to me. But nobody was there. The voice was evil and full of glee. It was like a clown's voice.

You'll ask me what the voice said in our session, so I'll say it now -

"Kill them. The world is a joke. Kill them. Kill them all with laughter. Let them all die with smiles. Kill them. Kill them with smiles and laughter. Life is a joke. Kill life with jokes."

Only, it wasn't real...it was simply a dream...but it woke me in such terror. I didn't get back to sleep that night.

So, for days, I was withdrawn. Was I going mad, I asked myself?

Anyway, one night...I was working at the bar and you'll never guess who worked in...My mother!

Drunk as a skunk and under the arm of some disgusting old creep! I was horrified! I felt sick.

Some nights, she hadn't been to the theatre, but in the bed of another man! And remember how I told you at the beginning of this letter that my mother was also a dancer? She was indeed...in a stripclub!

Oh, Harley...how my life was steadily crumbling before me.

And you know something else?! You know how I told you that my father didn't like me in the company of girls?!

Well guess what? He was abusing me for years! Oh, yes...the church at taught him well!

My mother and father, my entire life...I suddenly realised in one swift moment, that it had all been one, great, big, fat joke!

And do you know what the punchline is?! Remember how my father told me that it was best to cut out my eyes, rather than have my soul burn in Hell, yes?!!! I did just that...I cut out my mother's eyes and my father's eyes to keep them from burning...all the while, laughing with the all happy voices in my head and the man in the moon up above, with that dumb grin on his face!!!!!!!! You should have seen the audience...they thought it was all just a performance, until they tasted the blood..............

Well, slugger, hope you enjoyed my little tale...See you soon.

Mr. J xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

[Rodrigo90]

Well, what can I say?!

It's a huge honor to win!

And I have to thank LibidoLoca for nominating and everybody who voted for me to won!
I write because I enjoy it...and to let out all my crazy ideas
But what's more rewarding, is when people actually enjoy those crazy ideas. In life, I tend to do things that make people happy, I've been that way since I was young and writing, it always seemed to do the job. So I do it for everyone out there.

And with that, I'll be sure to uphold all the promises I made about the tales I will write. So,thank you again everyone!

 

[Rodrigo90]

Another tale from the crypt, guys!

This one is about Slender Man from the Slender games! I know what you're thinking, why write about him? Well, it wasn't actually him that drove me to it. Last night, after I purchased Slender: The Arrival for the PS3, I was playing on it and began to read about the games. I'm sure most are aware of the tales of young girls being inspired by the game to do crazy ****? Remember the story of those two girls stabbing another one 19 times? All these incidents had one thing in common, and that was Slender Man. So it was through that, that gave me the inspiration to write this short tale. Enjoy!

Slender: Sacrifice​

Another scream, louder than the last one. Everybody in the waiting room jumped upon hearing it, including myself. I wasn't surprised, it was filled with pain and terror. Christ, my blood ran cold as ice. Then, it felt like a vice was tightening around my neck and throat. Shouldn't have been though, because I should have been used to this **** by now. What **** you wonder? Another girl, screaming bloody murder in a psychiatric ward. In case you don't know, my name is David Wright and I'm a Detective with the Maine Poilce Department. The time was 2am in the morning when I got the call, I was already awake, putting my 3 month daughter to sleep. I asked my wife to answer the phone and when she came back in the room, I knew instantly by the look on her face what it was. Another young girl had gone bat **** crazy, burnt down her home with her family inside. The other week, another case of a young girl flipping out and stabbing her five year old brother to death. Even the week before that, another girl did a similar thing to her mother, only she got it with an axe while she slept. I was building a case around the whole thing, this was no mere coincidence. Following a little investigation, I discovered that these girls had something in common; they had all attended the same summer camp this year. I had interviewed the other two and now, I was bracing myself for this one. I didn't think I was going to get anywhere with her, she was screaming and lashing out at the doctors and nurses, but luck was on my side. As I entered her room, my heart missed a beat as I looked at her. Her eyes, like the other two before her, were almost black, she had been cracked hard on the nose. Her skin, like the other two, was pale and dry, bits were flaking off her. I could tell she had blond hair, but again, like the other two, it was streaked with black. Strangely, what we discovered, was that the black wasn't hair dye, it was natural hair. It couldn't be explained. Nor could we explain why these girls didn't look 'normal' anymore. Dare I say it, they didn't look 'human' anymore, at least in my eyes. I couldn't shake the feeling. It was like I was staring at things that weren't of this world and it really terrified me. Talking to them even, it was like they weren't really there, like they were seeing things that I couldn't, each one of them looking right through me. Despite their violence with other people, they each spoke in a calm manner with me, which creeped me out all the more. It's like the welcomed anyone who would listen to them, wanting their tales of murder to be told for all the world to hear. In their calm demeanours, they seemed to relish in each little detail of their respective slaughters. They would describe it all in the same unusual and disturbing way. To me, it really felt like children passing around horror stories around the camp fire as they roasted marshmallows.

And then, the creditor of their stories would be the last word they'd say to me before suddenly bursting into fits of madness again. They called him Slender Man. Apparently, the girls had all encountered him the night before they were to leave the camp. For weeks they had caught glimpses of him. In the dead of night, he would be watching them from the woods, across the lake and atop the hills, before disppearing in the blink of an eye. Terrified, at first (they stressed), they would bring it to the attention of the carers, but for some reason, the adults couldn't see the Slenderman, at least that's what the girls said.

And it wasn't just his appearances in the dark, he would also plague them with nightmares - apparently one girl tried to cut her wrists open with a pocket-knife, before proceeding to attack another girl who tried to stop her. That girl? She commited suicide a few days before this incident. Her mother told the police that she had been suffering from delusions and bouts of paranoia, telling her mother she feared that she would hurt her, as that was what the Slenderman wanted. She was found dead at the camp, after falling off the cliffs. Given her mental state, it was pretty much concluded as a suicide, but evidence seemed to suggest that she was running, tripped and fell and I came to believe the latter, only after determining that she was running from someone chasing her. I started to believe, as I heard the stories, that there was some psycho in the woods, who had been stalking and terrorizing the girls and perhaps some of the people at the camp were in on it. Maybe it was a sick joke gone too far and it resulted in the girl’s accidental death.

That theory, I had to present to the guys at the station. But it wasn't really what I believed. As I mentioned, these girls were different. They were disturbed beyond measure, but it didn't explain their dramatic change in appearance. So, I began to crazily imagine that something more sinister was afoot. I felt like I was losing my mind, like the stories and the murderous actions were actually affecting me in a huge way. They were, but I couldn't posdibly share those thoughts and feelings with anyone, unless I wanted to join the girls in the madhouse. But this Slender Man was just a fairytale, a made up character passed around campfires and internet fiction, he had replaced the Boogeyman in children's fears of what lay in their closest at night. There was no way he could be real...that's what everyone said, whereas I on the other hand, genuinely believed it. Was I crazy? *A 34 year old who believed in the modern day Boogeyman. Well, here's a story for you. When I was younger, on our old farm, my grandpa would tell me and my brother stories about a dark force that lived in the woods. He claimed to have seen a glimpse of it when he was a child, but we simply laughed at him. Yet, there were tales and reports on the news about people vanishing in those woods, mostly it was children who would take shortcuts on their way home from school. Police found no bodies, no trace of any of the victims and there was no suspect involved. After that, nobody would dare tread there again. Then, one day, my brother dared for us to go in there and take a picture, to show the kids at school how brave we were. I was hesitant at first, but with a bit of coaxing and the fact my brother was older and stronger than me, I eventually left with him.

We barely made to the edge of the woods, when we heard unusual sounds in a place that was often deathly quiet. Birds were crying, twigs were snapping and a mysterious wind coming from the inside howled like a demon. We pressed on and soon enough, we were at the heart of the woods. The sky grew menacingly dark for no reason at all and it was still mid-day. My brother handed me the camera and told me to quickly take the picture so we could leave as soon as possible - so much for bravery. Anyway, I took the picture and we hightailed it out of there. But guess what? Yeah, you guessed it - we were lost. It was like the place was keeping us in an eternal loop. Out of breath and ****ting our pants, we stopped to rest for a few moments and piece together our steps. Then, all of a sudden, for no reason at all, my brother started to scream about pain in his head, screaming about loud, static noise, that I couldn't hear. He keeled over and started to convulse. His nose began to pour with blood and his eyes rolled into the back of their sockets. In panic mode, I screamed for him and for help. Then, from behind me, I heard a noise, I thought it was my father or grandpa. In relief, I spun round, expecting to greet our savior...Instead, I saw him...It was a man. A tall, very thin looking man. He was wearing a black suit, white shirt and black tie, like he was on his way to a funeral. As I gazed further up, my heart literally stopped beating...He had no face, no hair, nothing. I had never been more scared in my young life, or any stage of my life up to now. I was paralysed with fear, yet I couldn't take my eyes of him. To look at him, the more I looked at him, it was as if I was watching everything through a dream - *a nightmare, I should say. Nothing felt real when I looked at him, and that's what I thought the whole thing was, just a bad dream. I think that was my minds way of coping with everything that was unfolding before me. Then, from his body, black tentacles emerged and reached for my brother, who was now out cold. All I wanted to do, was to run and scream, but I couldn't do neither. I had no desire to help my brother, to save him and I still feel disgust within myself for feeling that way. Yes, a monster was right in front of me and could've killed me in a heartbeat, but I still feel that guilt and probably forever will. *The black mass took him and I never saw my brother again. What happened then? I blacked out and immediately awoke in my bed. First thought, it was all just a nightmare...I jumped from my bed and ran into my brother's room, expecting to see him, but he wasn't there. From downstairs, I heard voices and sounds of my mother crying. I had just missed the police leave the house and so I approached my family, asking them what had happened. Soon enough, I was told it wasn't a nightmare at all...

Later that night, I told my grandpa about what happened, just him and nobody else, not even the police when they came to interview me the next day. I asked my grandpa, who was the man I saw? The man who took my brother. According to him, through the old stories he had heard passed around, the man in the woods was once named, William Moore. He was a local funeral director in the early 1900s. He was described as a warm and respectable gentleman by those who knew him. He had married three times and fathered seven children by the end of his life. Only, his life was cut short...My grandpa, who had become so brutally honest with me from that day forward, said that Moore was a kiddy fiddler, who sexually abused his children. Not only that, Moore was also accused of murdering his three wives and a dozen other people in Maine. Half of our town believed he was innocent, while the other half knew he was guilty. Was Moore innocent, or was he guilty? Nobody knows. Nobody knows how the allegations came about, but rumor was that it was his eldest child, had made the claims and this was soon corroborated by Moore's second born, then his third born and so on. Nowadays, the details had become so shrouded in legend, you didn't know what to believe. Innocent or guilty, Moore was eventually found dead in the woods...Some say he was murdered, others say he killed himself.

Yet, when I asked the three girls involved in my case about this Slender Man, they each provided me with different and conflicting details. He had different names, different backgrounds and different motivations. One of them said he had existed since before the dawn of time. Another claimed he was born from the very first nightmare...So, was the Slender Man really William Moore, or someone or something else entirely different? You can make up your own mind, I know I have. I also made up my mind about venturing into the woods to confront my demon after all these years...I was determined to find him.

The following night *after kissing my wife and daughter goodbye, I drove to Camp Oakside, inside the Oakside woods, the same woodlands I had first met Slender Man. They were fools to build the camp there...fools.

Upon entering through the main gate, I couldn't help but visit the spot where they found the girl's body. Shining my torch, I could see a faint trace of blood on the rocks where her head smashed open like a pumpkin. Then, by the rock, I found a page. I don't know who wrote it. It was covered with scribbles, was it her suicide note? All over it was,

"I DON'T WANT TO DIE."

My blood ran cold. I didn't even think of taking it with me, I just kept on walking. I had no idea why I was there. What was I looking for? I had brought my video camera, but what I was expecting to happen? For the Slender Man to appear and announce his existence to the world? Would've been nice. I eventually happened upon the camp. Jesus, this was near the spot where I first saw him, where he took my brother, by the lake. The fear inside me started to creep up, this was actually what I was hoping to be the catalyst for the son of a ***** to appear. He sensed the feelings of dread within his victims...it's what fueled him. It's what brought him to me and my brother, I was sure of it. It's why he was more prone to appearing before children rather than adults...but right at this point, I felt just like a child. Oh, God, that's when I heard it...that same demonic wind. He was here, watching me from somewhere. I drew out my gun, now on the defensive, my camera's nightvision illuminating the creeping darkness for me. Then, I saw him...my God, I saw him...he was running towards me...No, not Slender Man...it was my brother...He looked just like he was at ten, only he didn't look human anymore, worse than the girls even. I wanted to stand there, pray that he was to embrace me with that brotherly hug I missed. Instead, in his hand, I saw a jagged piece of rock, almost like a knife. So, I took off in other direction. He must have chased me for about ten minutes before he lost sight of me. Yet, I could hear him...shuffling about in the darkness, moaning and what sounded like crying. He called my name a few times, only his voice didn't really sound like a child's. He whispered to himself about how he would find me and take me with him to the other side, because he was lonely and he missed me. I had to hold my hand over my mouth to stop him from hearing my sobs. After a few minutes, he was gone. I had lost my camera in the chase. All I wanted was to head back to my car, I couldn't stand it. As I approached the front gate, I saw him - The Slender Man. Beside him was my brother and the three girls. Slender Man was floating just above the tip of the ground. None of them moved, they just stood there, blocking my exit. I had to get away and so I ran back into the heart of the woods. Eventually, I came across the old Kullman mines, just past the other side of the lake. The son of a ***** followed me in here, Slender Man, just him, not the others. He won't let me leave, not until I go with him. I should have gone with him all those years ago, but I was lucky enough to escape...but not now.

Yes. In the time I've wrote this entire letter, he has been standing at the far end of the tunnel, unmoving...waiting for me to join him. If you're reading this, then it means I'm dead. Just like Slender wants his legends to be told, I want my family, friends and all the world to hear what I have to say. Don't allow your children to ever enter these woods...if your child ever tells you that he saw the Slender Man and not the Boogeyman, then you believe him. To my wife and daughter, I'm so sorry for putting you through this pain...I have one bullet left in my gun, and I intended to use it on myself...but somehow, I know, if it is me that takes my own life, then he will take yours as punishment, probably make me do it somehow and that's something I can't allow. I hope my sacrifice will not be in vain. Goodbye.

Yours truly, Detective David Wright

1972 - 2015

 

[Venom'sDad]

Hey, Congrat Dude!

 

[Rodrigo90]

Hey, Congrat Dude!

Thank you my friend!

 

[Andrew Lucas]

Great stuff, 'Rigo

 

[Rodrigo90]

Great stuff, 'Rigo

Cheers mate!

 

[queendarkness12]

Well, what can I say?!

The statue looks like a bronze Oscar.

Congrats...it must be a great honor.

 

[Rodrigo90]

My own spin on pre-Joker's appearance in Gotham. Enjoy!

INT. CLUB -- NIGHT

Gordon and Bullock walk down the steps. A scantily clad waitress approaches them.

WAITRESS
Hey, Gentlemen. What can I
get you?

BULLOCK
He'll have a hard knock to
the head, and I'll have your number.

The waitress giggles at Bullock. Gordon reaches into his pocket and takes out the photograph. He holds it up to her.

GORDON
We're looking for this young man.
We know he's a regular at this place.

WAITRESS
Yeah. That's, Joe. He's here
tonight, actually. He'll be at one
of the poker tables. Somewhere.

GORDON
We'll have a look for him, thanks.

The waitress smiles and walks away.

BULLOCK
Hey! What about that number?!

A crowd is gathered around a poker table. Sitting at one end, is a nervous looking gentleman, trying desperately to keep his composure. Beads of sweat drip down his forehead and face. Opposite the gentleman, sits a cool and collected, young man. It's Joe. The dealer in the middle of the table looks at the two players.

DEALER
Gentlemen, if you would care
to show your hands.

The nervous player throws his cards down on the table. Joe delicately puts down his. Joe's hand consisting of 4 Jacks wins the game.

DEALER
Four of a kind. Mr. Napier wins.

Joe smiles. Pleased with his win. He pulls the chips towards him. The other player storms from the table. Walks up to Joe, and puts his mouth close to his ear.

GAMBLER
You're a dead man, cheater.

He walks away from Joe. As the crowd disperses, Gordon and Bullock appear from the midst. Joe spots them.

GORDON
Congratulations, Mr. Napier.

JOE
Napier? Wrong guy.

GORDON
Yeah, must be. Considering your last
name was, Kerr, just last week. You're
also going by the name of, Joe, tonight
as well. What happened to, Bob?

JOE
Bob? Oh. I shot him.

BULLOCK
Looks like we got a little comedian
on our hands. Too bad he isn't funny.

JOE
You want funny, Detective?
Try looking in a mirror with your
pants pulled down to the floor. I reckon
that'll be a hilarious sight.

BULLOCK
Watch your mouth before I break it.

GORDON
Listen, Joe. Or Bob, or whatever
else you decide to call yourself.
We know that you worked as an
assassin on the orders of Sal Maroni.

JOE
Me?! An assassin? Gentlemen.
I couldn't harm a fly, even if I tried.
I'm a simple guy. I get up on mornings,
eat my breakfast, brush my teeth,
get a shower, get dressed, take my
dog for a walk around the block,
and carpool with a guy at work,
to my job at the chemical plant.
On Friday nights, I come here to
get up on the stage and tell stupid
jokes to a bunch of people with
failed and useless lives. And
you are accusing me of being
an assassin, yeah? Wow. Who's
the comedian now, eh?

GORDON
Joe. Only the latter part of what
you just said is true. You don't
have a job at a chemical plant.

BULLOCK
Do you even know what planet
you're on, Freakzoid?

Joe points his finger at Bullock, with his eyes on Gordon.

BULLOCK
Could you get rid of the pink elephant
for me, please? I don't find him funny anymore.

BULLOCK
Pink elephant?

GORDON
Why don't you go find that
waitress? Get her number or
at least a drink.

Bullock looks to Gordon. Then to Joe. Joe waves his fingers at him. Nostrils flaring, Bullock heads off.

GORDON
Anywhere we can talk more private?

JOE.
Sure. Follow me.

Joe gathers his chips into a velvet bag.
Gordon steps up to him.

GORDON
Impressive victory.

JOE
I always have an ace up my sleeve.

GORDON
And an extra deck?

Joe puts his finger to his lips. Winks at Gordon.

INT. STAGE, CLUB -- MOMENTS LATER

Up on the stage, with Gordon at the side, Joe steps up to the front. He takes ahold of the microphone placed upon the stand. Looks forward towards the rows of empty seats.

JOE
Want to hear a good joke ladies and gentlemen? What do you get if
you cross a junkie and a pig together?
Fried bacon.

He bows, grandly, at the empty chairs. Turns to Gordon.

JOE (CONT'D)
I do love a good audience.

GORDON
I don't hear them laughing, Joe.

JOE
You don't, perhaps. But I can. I see
them as well. They're all in stitches.
Pissing themselves with sheer delight.
Big, goofy grins etched right across their
ugly, disgusting faces.

GORDON
I don't have time for this, Joe.
You do know you'll be leaving
this place in handcuffs, right?
But I want the information you have, first.
Who did Maroni pay you to kill next?

JOE
Why do you keep doing that?

GORDON
What?

Joe slowly approaches Gordon. A sad look on his face.

JOE
Laughing at me. Why do
you keep making fun of me?

Joe stretches his arms out. Hands reach for Gordon's throat.

JOE (CONT'D)
Why do you hurt me, daddy?

Gordon goes to reach for his gun. Joe stops.

JOE
Sorry about that, Detective.
Just having a bit of fun.
Might as well, considering my sweet
ass is about to become prison meat
for all those greedy vultures who haven't
seen a decent, straight woman in years.

GORDON
Sounds like you're looking forward
to it?

JOE
Oh, I am. You know something?
I haven't laughed or smiled since
I was a kid. Even on this stage,
telling jokes, acting the clown.
I don't find it all that amusing.

GORDON
Perhaps it's because you find amusement in killing people?

Joe looks up at the spotlights. Scratches his chin.

JOE
I haven't killed anybody, though. You
arrest me, Detective, you'll be
arresting an innocent guy. I mean,
what will become of my little dog?

GORDON
Assuming he exists, we'll find him
a good home.

JOE
Oh, okay. That's good.

Gordon pulls out a pair of handcuffs from his jacket. He puts them on Joe.

JOE (CONT'D)
Can I ask you something?

GORDON
Depends.

JOE
Have you ever killed anyone?

GORDON
I'm not willing to discuss that with
you, Joe.

JOE
What does it feel like? That
first kill, I mean. Does it make
you feel good inside? All warm and
fuzzy?

Gordon escorts Joe off the stage.

JOE (CONT'D)
I haven't killed anyone, Detective.
Just animals, when I was a kid.

GORDON
Yeah?

JOE
Yeah. My little dog. That was
the last time I had a good laugh.

INT. INTERROGATION ROOM, GCPD -- NIGHT

Joe sits at the table. He shuffles his deck of cards. Bullock stands by the door.

JOE
Fancy a quick game?

BULLOCK
Nope.

JOE
Oh, come on.
(pats knee)
It's nice and warm for you
to sit on. Don't tell me you're
not tempted?

BULLOCK
I'm tempted to smash you
right in the face.

JOE
That's it. I like a man
with fire in his soul.
What else to do you
want to do to me?

As Bullock moves in to pounce on Joe, Gordon comes into the room.

GORDON
Sorry to have kept you waiting.

JOE
That's no problem. The pink
elephant was keeping me company.
We're practically best friends now.
Aren't we, Detective Bullock?

BULLOCK
If I didn't love him, I'd kill him.

GORDON
Good to see you boys getting along.
Bullock, would you leave us alone, please?

Bullock leaves the room. Gordon sits down opposite Joe.

GORDON
Okay, Joe. I want to talk about
your affiliation with Salvatore
Maroni. How long you worked
for him?

JOE
About twenty years.

GORDON
You're only eighteen.

JOE
Wrong. I'm younger than that.
Or am I older? I forgot.

GORDON
Well, however old you are,
it's still pretty impressive how
you've managed to work for the
likes of Maroni.

JOE
Not to mention Grissom.

GORDON
Grissom?

JOE
Don't tell me you haven't heard
of him? Wait. Neither have I for
that matter.

GORDON
Take this seriously, Joseph. Maroni pay-

JOE
What did you just call me?

GORDON
Excuse me?

Joe leans forward over the table.

JOE
What did you call me?

GORDON
I called you, Joseph.

JOE
Why? That's not my name.

Gordon sighs, deeply.

GORDON
My God. What is your name then?

JOE
Well, if things go according
to plan, someone will tell you
what my name is.

GORDON
How did Maroni ever hire you?
He must have lost his mind.

JOE
Well, everybody's mad in Wonderland.
I'm mad, you're mad.

GORDON
I'm not mad.

JOE
You must be, or you
wouldn't be here.

INT. GORDON'S OFFICE, GCPD -- NIGHT

Sitting at his desk, Gordon files in reports. Bullock steps in.

BULLOCK
Hey. That guy, Joe? He's
not Maroni's assassin.

GORDON
What?!

BULLOCK
The assassin? He was found
dead behind the Ace Chemical Plant.

GORDON
Wait. Let me get this straight.
This assassin, who steals identities,
had his own stolen after being killed himself?

BULLOCK
Yeah, and God knows how
long the body's been there. This Joe character,
he's been lying the whole time
about who he really was.

GORDON
Or telling the truth...I'm confused
as hell.

BULLOCK
Just who the hell is this guy?

GORDON
Let's find out once and for all.

INT. CELLS, GCPD -- MOMENTS LATER

Down the steps, Bullock and Gordon come to the underground holding cells. Up head, they spot an officer lying motionless on the floor. Near him, a cell door is wide open.

BULLOCK
What the hell?!

The two Detectives race over to the officer. Gordon bends down, checking for his pulse. He's dead. Bullock furiously kicks the cell door.

BULLOCK
The son of a *****! He planned
this whole thing! Set up every
last detail to get himself in here.

Gordon spots something sticking out the officer's mouth. He takes it out. It's a playing card. The Jack of Hearts.

GORDON
Jack.

BULLOCK
What?!

GORDON
His name. It's Jack.

BULLOCK
Oh, great. At least we know
his name. How about a motive, huh?

GORDON
For a laugh...

 

[Rodrigo90]

The statue looks like a bronze Oscar.

Congrats...it must be a great honor.

Thanks! It is, yeah. Could be you winning one next year!

 

[queendarkness12]

Thanks! It is, yeah. Could be you winning one next year!

I'm starting on Charmcaster: Origins.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11081367/1/Charmcaster-Origins

 

[Rodrigo90]

I'm starting on Charmcaster: Origins.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11081367/1/Charmcaster-Origins

I'll give it a read later on and give you some feedback

 

[queendarkness12]

I got a little post-MOS scene written on my thread if you'd like to read it.

I might write more depending on the ideas that come.

 

[queendarkness12]

Any new content coming in the future?

 

[Steep Hill Film]

Well, what can I say?!

It's a huge honor to win!

And I have to thank LibidoLoca for nominating and everybody who voted for me to won!
I write because I enjoy it...and to let out all my crazy ideas
But what's more rewarding, is when people actually enjoy those crazy ideas. In life, I tend to do things that make people happy, I've been that way since I was young and writing, it always seemed to do the job. So I do it for everyone out there.

And with that, I'll be sure to uphold all the promises I made about the tales I will write. So,thank you again everyone!

Congratulations!

 

[Rodrigo90]

Congratulations!

Thank you!

Something else I whipped up, trying to find my bearings with BvS script I'm preparing

Joker's Roulette

Light blazes through the darkness. The bruised and blooded Arkham Warden is tied and gagged to a chair. He moans and shuffles. Through the door, the Joker steps into the room. He's aloof. Closing the door behind him, as if he's coming home from a day of hard work. He looks at the guard, walks up behind him and pulls down the gag from over his mouth. The guard draws air into his lungs.

JOKER
That better, sweetheart?

WARDEN
I'm going to kill you, you son of a *****!

JOKER
And how are you going to do that?
Afterall, you're tied up, and you do have a broken wrist on top of that.

WARDEN?
Wha -

Joker reaches down to the warden's hand, and snaps his wrist upward. It breaks with a sickly, loud crunch. The warden screams in agony. Joker grabs the warden by his head, and it cradles it, like a mother does with her crying child.

JOKER
There, there. Shh. Daddy didn't mean to hurt you. But you know how angry daddy gets. So, it's not his fault what he does to you, is it? Would a joke turn that frown upside down?

WARDEN
Go to hell!

JOKER
Someday, but not today.

Joker releases his grasp on the warden. He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a revolver. He strokes the gun down the side of the warden's cheek, giggling to himself.

JOKER (CONT'D)
Do you like gambling? I do.

Reaching into his pants pocket, Joker takes out a switchblade and cuts the warden's bounds around his wrists.
The warden goes to jump up, kicking the chair to the wall. Joker grabs him by the hair, stamps his foot in the back of his knee, causing the warden to fall to the ground. Joker throws himself down ontop of the warden, kneeling on his back. He pulls the warden's head up and shoves the gun to his right temple.

JOKER (CONT'D)
That's not the kind of gamble you should be taking with me!

Joker digs the gun deeper into the warden's temple. He giggles again. Demented.

JOKER (CONT'D)
Just be a good little boy, and behave. Or I'll pull this trigger and paint my lips with your worthless brains. A nice, pretty, red. So, are you going to be good then?

Joker grabs the warden's broken wrist and twists it. He winces in pain.

JOKER (CONT'D)
I asked if you were going to be good?

Joker twists his wrist again.

WARD3N
Yes!

JOKER
What did you say? I couldn't hear you.

Joker twists the wrist a third time.

WARDEN
Yes! I'll be good...

Joker cackles. He gets off the warden, and pulls him up to his feet.

JOKER
That's my boy! Now, it's gambling time!

Joker grabs the warden, and hurtles him up against the wall. Knees him in the stomach. The warden drops down to the floor. Gasps for his breath. From the back of him, under his jacket, Joker pulls out another revolver. Aiming the other gun at the warden, Joker places the new gun in the warden's hand.

JOKER
I call it; Joker's Roulette! Here's how it goes. We each take turns at putting the gun to one another's head, pulling the trigger each time we do. If I shoot you, I win, and if you shoot me, you win! Your turn first.

The warden reluctantly puts the gun to his head. Joker grabs his hand.

JOKER
Not like that! Like this!

He places the gun in the warden's hand to his temple.

JOKER (CONT'D)
Now, pull...

The warden pulls the trigger. The gun clicks. The chamber is empty. Joker smiles at him. He takes the gun, places at the warden's head.

JOKER (CONT'D)
My go. Three. Two.

The warden flinches. Trigger is pulled. Nothing. Another empty chamber. Joker laughs.

JOKER (CONT'D)
Oh, this is just too much fun! Don't say I don't know how to show my boy a good time!

WARDEN
Just hurry up and kill me, you psycho!

Joker backhands the warden across his cheek.

JOKER
Don't be so rude!

He clears his throat. Smiles.

JOKER (CONT'D)
Now.

Joker places the gun back into the warden's hand. The warden tosses the gun to the side.

WARDEN
No more of your damn games! Just finish me.

Joker frowns as he looks at the smashed gun. Still aiming the other gun in his hand at the warden, he shuffles over and picks up the other one. Joker places the gun near to his own head.

JOKER
Let's see how lucky you might have been.

Joker pulls the trigger. A flag pops out with a bang. The flag reads: YOU WIN.
Hysterical laughter escapes from Joker.

JOKER
Oh, you were so close to winning! If only didn't get all grumpy.

WARDEN
Just end it.

JOKER
No, I won't. Tell me, what do cats like to do with their prey before they eat it? They like to play with it first. They like to watch it squeal and squirm between their sharp, little claws. They get a nasty little kick out of it. I'm a bit like that!

Joker giggles.

JOKER (CONT'D)
You see, you should've really gone all the way. I should've explained things better. I said at the beginning, if I shot you, I'd win, and if you shot me, you'd win. But I didn't elaborate on what our prizes would be, did I?

WARDEN
What?

JOKER
Let me elaborate now...If you were to win, then you'd win the prize of your family's lives being kept in your possession. If I were to win, then my prize would've been in claiming those lives.

The warden's eyes widen. He tries to get up, but Joker presses his arm against his throat.

JOKER (CONT'D)
But saying how you left the table too soon, I've decided neither of us can claim the prize. For now.

Joker stands. The warden clutches his throat. Coughes.

GUARD
What do you mean for now?

JOKER
I mean, we'll be doing this again. Until one of us wins, because neither of us have.

Joker walks for the exit. The warden rises.

GUARD
No, please!

Joker stops.

JOKER
I was only joking. The truth is, I got to your family first and made them gamble with your life!

Joker turns to the warden.

JOKER (CONT'D)
And can you guess who won Joker's Roulette?

Raises his gun at him.

JOKER (CONT'D)
Me!

Joker fires the gun, emptying all 6 chambers. The warden slumps to the floor. Dead. Joker laughs, manically.​

 

[Rodrigo90]

Hang on...that seems to be the early draft. My rewrite didn't save. Damn

 

[queendarkness12]

I like the Joker excerpt.

 

[Rodrigo90]

I like the Joker excerpt.

Thanks hun, I appreciate that!
I had changed some of the dialogue and gave it a bit more edge, because that was basically just the outline, but it didn't save

 

[Andrew Lucas]

Great stuff dude, my favorite one being Joker's tale.

Spot on

 

[Rodrigo90]

Great stuff dude, my favorite one being Joker's tale.

Spot on

Thanks man, I really do appreciate it

I'm currently working on a Batman tale I've had in mind for a long time. It's set in Bruce's early days and he falls in love with a stripper whose the target of Sal Maroni. I'm releasing it in a few parts because of the size.
I've been working on a Silent Hill story as well at the same time, but that is sort of taking a backseat in favour of Batman and given the macabre nature, I've been needing happy moments of peace from it
And I'm soon working on the Batman V Superman script, as I've promised that for a long while. It's just going through the last stages of planning because I'm jotting it all down in bullet points