Gotham

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Sir Les Paul

The Duke of Chords
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"I'm not particularly fond of Gotham. It's like Someone built a nightmare out of metal and stone." - Superman (Clark Kent)

Gotham City is one of the oldest Eastern urban centers in the US. It nestles at the mouth of the turbid Gotham River upon islands once peopled by the vanished Miagani tribe of Native Americans. A Norwegian mercenary founded Gotham City in 1635, but the British later took it over. Since then, Gotham has been the center of controversy and technological advancement. Leading the industrial age and making its foothold in the United States with a massive economical impact, Gotham has made itself the wealthiest city in all of the United States. It also has one of the highest population densities and crime rates in the world. Most notably, Gotham City is known for its family of vigilantes that call it home - more so than any other city worldwide. The first of a long line, Batman is considered the forefather for the "vigilante" hero and was once the backbone for the prolific Justice League. While the era of the Bat is over, the lineage he left behind still lives on.

Contents
1. History
1.1 17th Century​
1.2 19th Century​
1.3 20th Centruty​
1.4 21st Century​
2. Geography​
1.1 Foreword]​
1.2 The Face of Gotham​
1.3 The Underground​
1.4 New Gotham​
1.5 Gotham Heights​
3. Places of Interest
3.2 Zeta-Beam Points​

History
17th Century
In 1609, the Dutch East India Company selected English explorer Henry Hudson to chart an easterly passage to Asia. Along his journey, he surveyed the Northeastern coastal region of what would one day become the United States. Following Hudson's course, Dutch pioneers sailed for this New World and began populating the region once inhabited by the Miagani. The pioneers established themselves in two different colonies. One colony was set up along the shore where fishing was plentiful, and the other was developed further inland. The latter colony came upon the sealed cave with the Miagani totem erected before it. Unaware of its significance, they ignored the totem's warning and loosed Shaman Blackfire from the cave. The colonists were never seen again. Two days later, men from the coastal community traveled to visit their inland brothers. When they arrived in the village, they found the town deserted. Pools of blood dotted the streets, but there were no bodies. A trapper claimed to have seen the image of a naked Indian walking from the woods to the settlement.

19th Century
During the latter half of the 18th century and the early half of the 19th century, Gotham was a major port city known as Gotham Town. Beginning as early as 1799, Darius Wayne began construction on a family estate that would eventually become known as Wayne Manor.

On January 1st, 1800, the frontiersman known as Tomahawk became embroiled in a fight with a British spy named Lord Gerald Shilling. Shilling had disguised himself as Tomahawk's close ally Stovepipe in order to get in close enough to procure a piece of mystical amber that Tomahawk had acquired from occultist Jason Blood years earlier. The two fought one another inside of an immense, bat-filled cavern not far from the Wayne estate. During the fight, the piece of amber fell into a stream of molten fluid. Shilling reached to retrieve it, and the amber fused itself to his hand, mummifying his entire arm. Tomahawk severed the arm and returned with it to Gotham Town. The arm and amber later became known as the Claw of Aelkhünd. The cavern in which the two fought one another would later service modern age super-hero Batman as the Batcave.

In 1840, Gotham underwent a major urban planning initiated by Judge Solomon Wayne and architect Cyrus Pinkney that laid the foundation of Gotham City. Under Wayne's commission, Pinkney's design was meant to invoke a "bulwark against the godlessness of the wilds wherein we may nurture the gifts of Christian civilization and be protected from the savagery which lurks in untamed nature." Pinkney saw his designs as an organic whole, almost a living being that would itself fight against evil. Gargoyles to frighten people onto the path of righteousness; rounded edges to confuse malevolent beings; thick walls to lock in virtue. It also had many elevated walkways, with some buildings connected to each other in such a way as they could not stand alone. Although vehemently criticized by Wayne's fellow Gothamites, the edifice pleased the judge and, in fact was highly successful in that it attracted others to locate their ventures nearby - which in fact became the focal point for a thriving commercial center in Gotham's financial district. Together Wayne and Pinkney raised no fewer than a dozen other similar buildings. Pinkney's "Gotham Style" structure, for a time, was widely imitated, both in Gotham and elsewhere despite universal vilification in the architectural world.

In 1895, the legend of Solomon Grundy was born when Gothamite Cyrus Gold, through varying accounts, came to his death in Slaughter Swamp that led to his transformation into the undead being who would emerge to the public fifty years later.

By the end of the century, Gotham City became a bustling hub of industry. However, it also became a haven for crime, known more for its poverty, the squalidness of its slums and the utter corruption of its government than for commercial and cultural achievements.

20th Century
During the 1950s, Gotham evolved with the changing times, particularly in light of the paranoia perpetuated by the Cold War. Various bomb shelters were erected all throughout the city. By the 1960s, Gotham City planners began an ambitious project called the Underground Highway. Beginning at Fourth Avenue, they began building an actual subterranean thoroughfare designed to link with the subway system. They only managed to complete two-hundred yards worth of tunnel before budget cuts forced them to abandon the project. In later years, the unfinished highway became a haven for the homeless and even a few criminals such as Killer Croc.

Crime in Gotham would continue to proliferate in the later half of the century. This increase in criminal activity would provide Gotham to host its iconic super-hero, Batman. Other vigilantes such as Robin, Batgirl, and the Huntress appeared in the years that followed, countering the increased evil with their presence. But with heroes, Gotham was also introduced to a number of outlandish, yet very dangerous super-villains such as the Joker, the Penguin, Two-Face, Poison Ivy, Riddler, and Scarecrow.

21st Century
At a time, Batman and the "Bat family" had the city in a relative state of peace. Many of the members of the Bat family had since gone their separate ways and Batman himself acted primarily as a member of the Justice League. It was this action that ultimately lead to the eventual spiral downward that Gotham returned to in the the early 21st century. While the previous years had heroes successfully reducing crime, the global efforts and larger scale the Justice League implemented allowed crime to proliferate once again. New criminals began making their names, the return of the Jokerz as an even more dangerous gang than their original iteration and the return of villains such as Poison Ivy and copycats from older generations run rampant.

The fall of the Justice League brought many members of the Bat Family back home, causing a drastic reduction in crime on the streets. Regardless, criminals upgraded in technology and continued to thrive in the city. In generations before, subterranean levels of the city and the slums provided plenty of housing for the criminals, but now, Gotham is stratified. With motor pathways miles in the air and suspended parks, Gotham is one of the most technologically advanced in the world. While these upper levels are networked in, many of the lower levels and even base levels of the city are not - causing even more of the city to be littered with crime.

Additionally, these higher levels have caused more than just physical stratification - but social stratification. The level one lives on often dictates their safety and security within Gotham. While the current generation of vigilantes are more equipped than the previous ones with Black Beetle notably claiming to be "one with the city" due to his technological integration, they also face the challenge of the significantly larger area to patrol. While Metropolis may sport the largest building in the world, Gotham makes more use of its space - for better or worse. The world below the suspended platforms returns to the Gothic pillars designed for it long ago in the 19th century and the danger there is ever-present.

Geography
Foreword
This installment of the Gotham post was effectively created by popular demand. Due to the often independent nature of individual story lines in the roleplay, it became apparent that Gotham - much like its sister city to the North - would benefit from a detailed map. However, Gotham is significantly bigger than almost every other city presently active and has been uniquely shaped in this futuristic world, meaning that a simple map of New York City, New York, which is often the inspiration for Gotham, simply won't suffice. With the need growing and the benefit of a fully-fledged map ever-so evident, this entire section has come to fruition.


The term "stratified" is often used in correlation with Gotham and it applies to both the socioeconomic status of the city as well as its layout. A map of Gotham City only reflects Gotham at the "base-level" of the City, but there is far more to the city than its foundation. In fact, there are four primary levels to Gotham. The most well-known layer is the base level that most maps reflect; this layer is known as the 'face' of Gotham as it holds most of the historical landmarks, streets and sentimental value of the city. The historical, Gothic towers that the city is known normally are also part of this level and anything above it mark the next level. Below the face of Gotham is The Underground. Remnants of subway tunnels, prohibition era bootlegging networks and even the once-thriving Underground Highway, the Underground is a part of Gotham that dates back as far as the eighteenth century in some places. In the opposite direction of the Underground is the first stratified layer of Gotham known mostly as "New Gotham" and is actually exclusive to the central and Eastern sides of Uptown and Midtown Gotham. Even further above New Gotham is an unnamed level that sits among the clouds in Uptown designed specifically for the aristocratic, specifically the wealthy and the famous - even the mayor of Gotham has no place there.


The Face of Gotham
Using maps like this with landmarks like these, the Face of Gotham is fairly easy to follow. While some conflict arises in certain streets and specific areas, overall, the use of maps for general placement In Gotham is the best way to navigate the face. Of all things, the Face of Gotham is known for its historic value as well as its industry. On no other level will one find as many businesses, factories or overall job value in Gotham. For all intents and purposes, this is the functioning level of Gotham that is most applicably the city of Gotham. For all of these reasons, it has thus been dubbed the face of Gotham. It is also home to parks, bays, airports and all other sorts of municipalities a city would have. However, as one begins to dwell closer to Central and Eastern Midtown and Uptown, a noticeable shift in architecture reveals what that portion of the city is built for: to be the foundation of the 'floating' levels above it. Entire functional buildings have been converted to support columns and the city itself is often constantly shrouded in darkness only to be illuminated by the city lights due to the sun being blocked out consistently. Many consider these portions of Gotham, while nowhere near slums, to be some of the most eerie parts of Gotham as they are in perpetual night, have little-to-no exterior vegetation, are the most technologically advanced with an almost spider-like network of transport stations and roads all in addition to a consistent drop in ambient temperature and seasonal mist. Outside of this area, the city functions considerably closer to normal and even resembles the historic Gotham known worldwide, but underneath the pillars of New Gotham, the old Gothic spires appear shrouded in constant darkness only illuminated by the bright lights of buildings. It should be noted that most of this level and all of the levels above have constant forms of surveillance with only older, historical areas of Gotham being without. However, due to the darkened areas of the city, cameras in certain areas are not nearly as accurate as they would be in daylight.

The Underground
As stated earlier, the Underground is a large part of Gotham that is effectively the remnants of outdated subway tunnels (now replaced most commonly with magnetic railways suspended in the air), the failed Underground Highway and prohibition era tunnels all in addition to further renovations made by crime families over the centuries. The Underground is unsafe, unjust and despised by virtually the rest of Gotham. With only Uptown having no part of the Underground (mostly due to the monetary efforts to disconnect themselves from the underground network), the Underground is the second-largest level after the Face of Gotham. Despite that, being a large, interconnected series of tunnels, large chunks of said network are disconnected from others. Due to the vast use by mastermind villains and the subsequent destruction thereof, huge portions of these tunnels have collapsed and intentionally never rebuilt. In some of these isolated chunks, criminal activity goes unpunished. Home to the infamous "Gotham Black Market", the central portion of the Underground found in the center of Midtown at the "Heart of Gotham" has a large bazaar of illegal, contraband and even stolen products. While efforts have been made to destroy the Black Market, they have all failed as it has rebuilt itself time and time again. Additionally, the loss of life associated with police forces in the Underground make it a risk far too great to undergo. In a way, Gotham holds an entire ecosystem below its face that few ever know about. This level also houses a large sum of people as the efforts to rid the Face of Gotham from the homeless have forced many of them underground. It is estimated that one-sixth of the entire Gotham populace secretly lives underground, although those statistics are often skewed by how many people literally do not report for the census. With no surveillance or justice system, this is even part of the city that the Bat family haven't crossed since Bruce reached his old age. Just as he dubbed it, it is "the untamed underbelly of Gotham best watched from a distance" as it is rarely worth delving into. The Underground itself extends to Downtown, Midtown and Sandyhook with only Uptown and South Channel Island disconnected. Lastly, and potentially most importantly, the Underground is home to all variety of criminals, including the Jokerz.

New Gotham
Located far above the Face of Gotham, this level is literally a floating city on top of select areas of Gotham. At estimate, one-fourth to one-third of Gotham lives in the shadow of New Gotham, particularly the Central and Eastern portions of Midtown and Uptown. In fact, this "floating city" is constructed over the South Channel and over several bridges, including Starr Bridge, Webb Bridge and Cross Bridge. Additionally, several parks have been covered and 'rebuilt' on New Gotham, including Channel Park and Colgate Park. As the larger portion of New Gotham is actually hovers over Uptown, many of the factories, business-related buildings and housing districts have been altered into structural support columns for New Gotham. Additionally, the entire South Channel coastline on the North and South Shore has effectively been build into a large, structural bridge of anchors and supports for New Gotham. In short, it was no small feat that made New Gotham a reality and in fact the money spent to create it is often viewed as one of the most frivolous actions the wealthy have ever taken. The parks below were moved above, the anchors and structural columns used for the city also house most of the transport rails for the magnet railways for the Face of Gotham and the only way to New Gotham is either by flight or shuttle through some of the columnar stations. New Gotham itself suffers from some of the same shadowcasting due to the level above it, but not nearly as much. Additionally, due to its higher placement, it is mostly residential, however, there are still municipalities, businesses, etc. that make the entire area a self-contained, nearly self-sustaining city upon a city. In fact, it is considered an 'engineering marvel of the world' due to the fact that power, waste recycling and water treatment are all done on this level and are self-sustaining, meaning that New Gotham effectively exists for the high-middle class and high class through consumerism. Due to the extremely low crime rate, life there is considered pleasant and many pay the expense. All of New Gotham is under constant surveillance and has its own fire stations, EMS services and police precincts. Most of the high-end technological, medical treatment and research facilities are also on this level, helping to push the tier class. It is this 'gap' that makes New Gotham significantly stratified from Gotham not only in its placement, but in the income disparity.

Gotham Heights
Although notably unnamed, the highest portion of Gotham is another level above New Gotham and found specifically above Uptown near its upper, right quadrant. This area is specifically smaller and made by the disgustingly elite. Men from across the country moved to this area once it was built to continue adding to it. It is a closed community with only the best of the best, including the services there. It was once said that a Paramedic from Gotham Heights was worth ten doctors in the Face of Gotham. This place is almost purely residential with facilities almost otherwise only for medical services. Those that live here are often rich enough to send others to shop for them in lower levels and have it transported up. Those on this level are effectively said to "own Gotham", and rightfully so as they almost unanimously paid to have New Gotham built - from the actual construction to the payment of legislature to allow it to happen. Ironically, much like the Underground, there is little-to-no active police force here. Additionally, while there is surveillance, it is not 'public'; and, there is no alliance with the Bat family. Those on this level don't really need it. Security is tight and unless you live or work for those that live there, one will virtually never visit Gotham Heights. There are no tours, no boasting of its services or community and effectively no crime. While it is even called Gotham Heights for the sake of simplicity, it is actually completely unnamed. It is the home of Gotham's and even some of the world's most disgustingly rich, and home to a group potentially even more dangerous than the Jokerz: the Mile High Club. A group of, following the trend, disgustingly rich that attempt to dictate the events of Gotham and the world through the use of money, deceit and manipulation. Ranging from party boys to old men living well beyond their years, this group and this level are home to only a select few.

Places of Interest
Zeta-Beam Points
At one point, Gotham only had one Zeta Terminal found within an old phone booth in midtown. While it gained two more (one in uptown and one in downtown), Bruce Wayne pioneered a new approach to the Zeta Terminals found only in Gotham. Using a network of coils remarkably similar to Tesla Coils, Bruce made 60% of Gotham a valid teleportation point for Zeta Beams. Furthermore, he found ways to 'block' the use of Zeta Beams and Zeta Energy within the field, making it impossible for anyone without clearance to near Wayne Manor, Wayne Tech, Wayne industries or the Batcave. The secrets to this technology were not shared upon his death, leaving Terry McGinnis, Jr. the only living individual capable of understanding how the technology works. The purpose of this technology was to understand Zeta Beams further and potentially create defenses if future threats learned how to utilize this technology against them.

 
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LokiofSP said:
Freddy looked at Beetle mostly uninterested underneath the hood for the longest time watching him with crossed arms and with his fingers gently drumming against him elbow. It was the last bit though that began to get him to straighten up and listen more intently. Once Terry finished speaking, he couldn't help but replay one single line over and over to himself for those few moments, and likely for the rest of the night as well:

'But, if we don't acknowledge it, it's almost like it doesn't exist.'


One of the first things that Freddy had to realize before even putting on the costume was that things were bad, REALLY bad. He needed to realize that there were people who weren't going to redeem themselves, who didn't deserve the chance to do so in the first place. He'd noticed so many people reading about terrible things happening all the time and still acting as if it was nothing, going on with this idea that the world would be a better place by simply not doing anything about it; like this was just some bad dream that would fade with memory. He could make more of an impact if he helped people realize that, he could do more than he was currently doing already! He extended a hand to get Terry's shoulder, but stopped suddenly as he thought back too two other parts of the speech...


'But, Freddy, you know as well as I that you're a lot more than that Hood,'


'The only person with a killswitch to the Ibis Armor is me.'


How did he know about everything else? He'd taken various measures to ensure that absolutely nobody but those who he trusted knew about what he did to any extent, but here Beetle had come and basically told him he knew SOMETHING, but to what extent he didn't know. Then there was the fact that there was even a kill switch in the first place... it didn't sit right with him, knowing that if he did come with them, compromise his ideals to an extent to do something great, that even then he wouldn't be trusted. It made him pause, sure Beetle hadn't told anyone what he knew, but the fact the he knew in the first place bothered the hell out of him. Freddy eventually nodded at Terry, "Thanks for the offer, but I have other things to do right now. Now if you excuse me, I need to go..." He turned around slowly, walking off through the chaos and ducking into a nearby alleyway, making his way back to his truck...


@Sir Les Paul



"Do what you will, Freddy, but if you turn this down... I have to warn you:" Beetle replied. There was a resolve in his voice. It was obvious he was done attempting to persuade Freddy. It was almost an admirable quality; plenty of others wouldn't have let him walk out of that parking lot and if they did they would have pursued and pestered him to the point of nigh-violence. The Beetle wasn't like that, though. The Beetle wasn't like any of them. While he seemed to know far more than he should, he was far less judgmental than the others - specifically Graywing. Nightwing wasn't particularly kind, either, but at least she wasn't violent with Freddy. The Beetle fought against the tide for Freddy... just an odd fact considering he was the current head of the Bat family - if there really was one. It would be better to say he owned the Batcave.


"Waller wants you behind bars. He wants to make a point known: even strays of our own must be put on a leash. You know I don't want that... but rules are rules. From here on out, you'll have no support from the League or the family unless you're willing to face the penalties, too. I know, Freddy, it won't stop you. Just think of it as... a head start. Beetle said with a slight chuckle. A head start? A chase? A hunt? Fact was, Freddy was there prey now just like the Jokerz. Freddy was officially a criminal. The line between the vigilantes had been drawn...


@LokiofSP
 
Freddy made his way down the alleyway in silent shame as he contemplated his actions. He had made a terrible mistake tonight in allowing himself to show a vulnerability, one that he was now realizing that someone could easily exploit: the fact that he had someone he cared about. It was a slip up, a momentary lapse in judgement that may have very well cost him in ways that currently weren't apparent at the moment. That, compounded with the way he'd handled the interaction with Terry, and just how vulnerable he must had seemed then, he realized he had only just begun the night and it was already shaping out to be a terrible one.


He reached his truck, opening up the back of it and stepping inside before making sure he was alone in the area. He then closed the door again and took off his helmet, running a gloved hand run through his hair as he sighed. The inside truck was small in width, but large in space, it could fit maybe six people in at once. Guns of multiple sizes and their ammunition lined the wall, and there was a metal bench on the left side of it, a police radio and a computer sat in the far right corner of this bench. Freddy sat down, getting a bit closer to the floor and feeling around for a few moments before pulling out a small black notebook and pencil from a hidden small space underneath the bench. He had began to take notes early on in his 'career' as a vigilante, hell, back in his apartment he had a whole bookshelf full of these notebooks sitting there so he could check them from time to time, just so he could let himself know he was getting better.


He checked his watch, then began to write down, mumbling under his breath what he was writing on paper. "The night has only just started, and it already feels like I should head in early tonight. There were reports of massacre, and I ran in as quickly as I could. Looking back, it would have been more wise to attempt to get some of my people nearby to get to the scene first so they could at least try to slow it down, it's a lesson to learn I guess, but I just... I wish it didn't have to come at the cost of the people I failed..." Freddy tapped his pencil against the page, taking just a moment to asses his mistakes once more, "I was able to fight the two who had done this at first (Note: These two most defiantly had a connection to the Jokerz gang, I'll tell that to Ken later) but when the began to run, I was unfortunately stopped by a strange woman, which allowed the others to get away, once again proving that I needed more hands on deck. She seemingly had Joker toxin on hand, and I unfortunately breathed it in (I'll need to try to get some kind of a sample of it, run that by the lab so they can maybe get some kind of antidote made). Skipping past the unimportant bits, she had an antidote that although I was initially unwilling to use, she had a tape recording of...of Michael. I'm ashamed to admit I gave into it, which also unfortunately allows them some leverage against me, I'll need some way to correct that..."


"Lastly, there was a bit of a surprise meeting with the Black Beetle, asking me about the new Justice League. The offer seemed to have appealing aspects, but due to their unwillingness to use me as little more than a puppet, I declined. If Beetle's threats afterwards are any indication, I'll apparently be hunted 'for real' now. That's fine, I can deal with Beetle easily, the only problem this really poses is that it just got a bit more difficult to do anything on the higher levels, considering how connected to the upper city he is. I just need to be a bit more careful with any future dealings up there is all..." Freddy then closed the book and put it back in the small space. He then put back on his helmet and took his police radio to the front of the truck with him, sitting in the drivers seat, turning on the radio, and driving off towards the nearest crime he could find...


(Post feels a bit long, but given that we're just starting this new project I felt like I have an excuse to do so :P)
 
Marcel stepped out of the flash of light with a distinct grin on his face. Not that anyone could see it under his mask. Not that there was anyone to see it; he rode the Zeta Tubes directly into the underground chambers of Gotham. In front of his eyes ran file after file after file of meta-humans, people of interest and even high-priority targets. Few of them interested him. He was looking for a specific type of individual. Someone that fought for the right reasons, but refused to play by the rules of the League. He needed someone that would defy Black Beetle. That would defy the entire damn Bat Family if need be. He needed vigilantes. Real vigilantes; not the fake-ass police force running around topside in capes. 



Given what he just accomplished, one might think he would have bigger game. Marcel could tap into the lines the Zeta-Beams ran off of to teleport himself alongside them. This required an end device, specifically the port-pad he designed for single-person use, a terminal to tune in on the energy waves, and then a full-scale hack to put his port in the system so that when he arrived, it made sense. That alongside his suit was enough to get him in the Watchtower for precisely three minutes and twenty-six seconds which itself was enough time to get in and out with a database full of people that Waller had files on. All Marcel wanted was to find the people that he might align himself with if he was going to outshine the Bat Family...

"Ryan Wilson... too aggressive, no moral code... Thorn, a.k.a. Luke Isley... too big of a liability with Poison Ivy... Morningstar... the son of the Devil. The fuck? ...Fredrick Todd. Perfect.   Oh... oh what's this... Drake Swift... shadows, a low-level thief, long track-record, no real alliance. I may have to make a trip to Blüdhaven before I go looking for big game," Marcel mumbled to himself. He then knelt down to pick up his port pad and began to waltz down the long passages of the underground Gotham.

"This City will be mine..." he said to himself.
 




That night was nothing new for Freddy. A few thugs here and there, no real activity from the Jokerz gang after the first incident. No meta-human threats whatsoever. It was oddly silent, but the previous onslaught at the park was enough to consider it business for the day. No, it wasn't that night that mattered. That night was just time for the Red Hood to blow off some steam. For him to let loose all the frustration he felt when he let someone get under his skin. He had been beaten far worse than anyone had ever done to him in the past. Not blows to his body, but blows to his pride. Fucking with his head. He fought the Jokerz for so long that a type of immunity was growing inside of him to their sadism and insanity, but it failed him today. It failed him and they fucked with his head just like old Granddaddy Bruce said that they would. Even if Freddy never met the old man, the words Bruce muttered about the Joker and how he toyed with your head were passed down through the generations.

The Joker - and the Jokerz - always got into your head. They were not the darkness. They were not the seeping chaos that one drudged through. They were an acidic insanity that eventually ate into you.

It was that morning that the final blow to Freddy from the Jokers. All across Gotham - in the slums that the Red Hood protected to the highest balconies of the businessmen - pictures of his lips pressed against those of Gypsy made front-page news:


RED HOOD RED-HANDED CAUGHT WITH CLOWN PARAMOUR


 


@LokiofSP
 
For a moment, Freddy was silent, he simply shook slightly as he sat in his medium sized apartment. The paper in his hands trembled as he began to breath in through his nose and out through his mouth, trying to calm himself down, he needed to think logically, and move forward as such and attempt to better himself...but at the moment, that wasn't something he could do. So he ripped the paper and stood up, storming over to his desk and pushing off every paper there! He grunted as he pushed the entire desk to the side and began punching into the wall! After every precaution he took, all those nights taking vigorous notes on how deal with the Jokerz, on how to protect his already fucked name, only for it all to fall down because of ONE photo! All because of the ONE weakness he'd yet completely dealt with!


He stepped away from the wall, dents now present in it. He needed to relieve himself of the new anger he now had, and he wanted no more than to put on the Hood and shoot something. He felt a need to go and do something that made him FEEL like he was doing something productive, but unfortunately for him, it was daytime, and the Red Hood wasn't fit for the daytime...the day was for Vance. Vance had no reason to be upset by this news, which meant Freddy had to act as if Vance wasn't phased by this news at all, no matter how much he wanted to scream at the top of his lungs. But first he needed to do damage control, so he retrieved his laptop from the piles of papers that had fallen over, sending a message out over a private server to the men who worked for him, "I don't care how you do it or if you know how, pull this picture from the internet before it gets spread to far, rob any trucks delivering the god damn paper, make sure as few people as possible see this shit!" He then shut the laptop violently, walking away to get ready for the day.


@Sir Les Paul
 
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@ echo off
:A
Cls
echo MESSENGER
set /p n=User:
set / p m=Message:
net send %n% %m%
Pause
Goto A



MESSENGER


User:192.67.203.1

DW: lorenzos @ 1700



server disconnected









Not long into the morning, Freddy received not just an encrypted message, but one forced onto his laptop and a notification on his phone that locked his SIM card and e-mails until he used a browser to reactivate them. The purpose was to make sure he saw that message. It was sent by someone skilled enough to get through all of his security and force a simple command prompt that novice code-junkies could use. It purely toyed with him. lorenzos referenced one of the restaurants he used to wash dishes. It had to be personal. So few people knew of his past. If it wasn't for the handle, it wouldn't be a huge jump to believe that these were mind games again. But DW... that normally meant just one person. Duskwing, a.k.a. Damien Wayne... the estranged son of Bruce. Wasn't around often. Didn't get along with the others. Didn't join the new Justice League. It left the question of was it worth the risk...


@LokiofSP
 
Fredrick stared at the message for a few moments, sucking his teeth as he stared at the screen of his laptop taking a few moments to wonder if it was worth going out to meet with the person who was more than likely Damian. He rubbed his temples, shutting the laptop and letting it fall down onto the couch next to him as he leaned back, "...Screw it, nothing he could throw at me that would make this day any worse..." Fredrick took out his phone and allowed his location to be discovered just in case, before heading towards his closet and finding the biggest hood he could find, paired with a pair of sunglasses. He exited his apartment, keeping his head low as he made his way towards Lorenzos.


He entered the restaurant a bit of time later, looking around for anyone who might be looking for him.


@Sir Les Paul
 
Damian was fairly unique when it came to the Bat Family. His suit was a tradition in many senses. It was something that, at times, he only wore for the sake of his lineage. At other times, it was due to necessity. Unlike the others - whom all lead normal lives to some degree - Damian never did. He was raised by Talia off the grid, then by Bruce, his death was faked a long time ago and he acted as a ghost since. He was falsified paperwork on top of falsified paperwork. It came as no surprise that arguably the true heir to the Bat Family simply sat unmasked at a booth sipping on coffee. He wore a simple black parka, grey undershirt with interesting suture designs and relaxed jeans that covered his boots. No shades, no conspicuous clothing. He looked normal. It was a perfect disguise.

He immediately eyed Fredrick the moment he walked in and nodded him over. He was relaxed, as always now-a-days. His hot temper faded in his youth; although his passion never did. This was likely the most normal encounter Fredrick had in weeks.


@LokiofSP 
 
Spotting Damian in the corner, Freddy walked over to the booth, sitting down across from him slowly. He looked Damien up and down, "Well look at you, making me feel all over conspicuous..." Freddy took off his sunglasses, but kept his hood up, keeping his eyes on Damien the entire time. He seemed tense despite the seeming normality of the situation, his foot was tapping on the floor and although his hands were covering his mouth, his right hand was clearly in a fist. Thinly veiled anger was clear in every movement he took, something he didn't let show openly very often. Fredrick briefly turned to an approaching waitress, ordered some tea, and turned back to Damian, finally speaking once more, "So, why exactly did you call me here? I hope it's not just so I can get berated for the second day in a row, because I could use a bit of a break from that."


@Sir Les Paul
 
"The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist," Damian replied to Freddy before taking a slightly larger gulp of his coffee. Damian was easily the most physically intimidating of the remaining Bat Family. Not only that, he most closely resembled Bruce despite Beetle sharing roughly the same DNA. Arguably, the two were close to brothers, but no geneticist dared argue that point with either of them. Besides, it's not as if Freddy saw much of either of them or even Bruce in his prime anyway. The nostalgia others might have had was lost in this moment. Damian was just another name and face; a forgotten one, at that. He sat his coffee down before making directly eye contact with Freddy. Even then, his relaxation was apparent. No cold, cutting eyes. No hot, burning passion. Just a bored apathy. "Just order something when the waitress comes by... If I'm going to call someone to a diner, we're damn well going to eat," Damian said, somehow giving Freddy instructions not as if a demand, but more so in some odd quirk of a vintage personality. At the very least, it wasn't the uppity tone of Beetle or Nightwing. Just a gruff man twice their age.


@LokiofSP
 
Freddy shook his head, "No thanks, I'm not hungry-" He was cut off by the growling of his stomach, to which he groaned. He looked over the menu briefly, calling over the waitress and ordering an omelet. He sipped at his tea, his shoulders relaxing very slightly, but not completely. The distrust he felt was very clear, as Freddy refused to take his eyes off the man before him for more than two seconds at a time, "I'm still waiting for an explanation as to why you called me here. I'm going to assume you saw the paper this morning, because if you did, you'd know I have things I'd rather be doing right now than sit in a diner with a man I don't know while trying to pretend that I'm, comfortable."


@Sir Les Paul
 
Damian ignored the first few words from Freddy. Not just his dismissive attitude towards food, which he later redacted, but his continued insistence as to why Damian asked him here. Instead of immediately indulging him, Damian indulged in his food. "Calm down, bud; I'm not about to pull a Terry," Damian told him. His voice was low and his tone was a bit rough, but it got the point across. It wasn't much longer before their food returned. Freddy had his omelet and Damian had a significantly larger breakfast: two eggs, sunny side up; a set of sausage on top of a bed of hash by the eggs; all met with a platter of what appeared to be French toast that Damian then proceeded to drench in syrup. He handed his mug to the waitress whom asked him for more coffee, and as she took it away, Damien looked to Freddy and said, "learn to enjoy a meal. I haven't had a good one in about eight days." There was something in his tone that made this entire event seem to be so much less about the incident with Freddy and his status as a vigilante. If the two had been long-term friends, it would have almost felt like rekindling that type of friendship. But, they weren't. This was new. In fact, this is the first time Freddy would have ever seen Damian outside of the Duskwing suit.


About half-way through the meal, Damian finally started to converse about what Freddy was so interested in. "Honestly, bud, I can't bust your balls too hard over the gas. Even I thought it was off the streets," Damian told him, "so that whole situation you were in wasn't one you could have been prepared for." Damian was of course eating between forkfuls of food, making his statements short and sweet, but sporadic and numerous. "You ought'a know I normally don't get involved in your business... or Terry's," Damian continued on, now dabbing his toast into the pooled syrup in one corner of his plate. "But, that gas is dangerous and only one person made it, so this is above your head - and his," Damian added. It seemed Damian spoke down even to Terry; the one person everyone else seemed to speak up to, aside from maybe Nightwing. Most of Gotham revered the Beetle as Batman reincarnate, but Damian just addressed him as Terry - and not even fondly at that.


"I called you here, bud, to get you out of his eye first," Damian explained, sitting his fork down long enough for a longer explanation, "and, into mine. He sees everything in this city. All day. Every day. Every pattern. At least, the parts where there's a system. Even here. So, I had to hack it all to keep your face out of recognition and keep him from tracking you - and I did it all within the system under my credentials. He'd never guess it. Point being, he's so stuck up Waller's ass that he's willing to wrap you up right for him after that picture. Personally, I don't like that." It was right after that line that Damian started digging into his sausage. He dunked it in the syrup much like he did his toast. It seems he had an affinity for the sweet texture. "Give up the hood for a while," Damian said. It was nonchalant how he said it, too. It seemed like such a deep sentiment just to toss out. "Under the table is a suitcase. In it... a suit. Nothin' too fancy. All black, built military style, but most importantly, a mask. That mask is what you really need," Damian told Freddy. After all this time, Damian popped the yolks of his eggs and let them run out. It was odd, though; he let them sit just long enough for the yellow goop to coagulate. Somewhat defeated the purpose of over-easy eggs.


"It's printed out to parameters that will throw off Terry and all of Gotham. I set it in his programming. As long as you wear it, he can't track you through the city," Damian explained. At this point, he was cutting apart his eggs and dipping them in the yolk like he did everything else in the syrup. He had a consistent pattern for how he ate. "I'm not gearin' you out, but I am giving you a fighting chance 'til I clean up this bullshit in the media. Give it a week or two and I'll have that picture faded away by some other fiasco," Damian said, almost finished with his meal. He allowed a prolonged wait in finishing his eggs and sipping on his coffee before hit continued on. "I remember when I went rogue. The first time. You weren't around, but I had half of Gotham after me. It was shit. You also do more for these streets than Terry does in the fucking cave, so I think he needs best leave you alone," Damian told him. In just another moment, he pulled out his wallet and three twenties, tossing them on the table. 


@LokiofSP
 
Gotham.


It was the perfect place to basically be invisible, or so Brian thought. Still though, it was hard to be invisible with wings growing out of his back, but it was enough. He'd spent the last few months among the city, staying among what Brian considered to be it's depths. The Meta stepped out of one of the local bars, he'd forgotten the name, the hot liquor coursing through him as he walked and stumbled a little onto the sidewalk. It was morning...or was it? Not like it was easy to tell in this city, not to mention the fact that his cognitive abilities weren't really kick-starting at the moment. But the former hero assumed he'd drunk on through the night. Moving at his own drunken pace he rounded the building, heading into the alley just beside it. Brian's clothes weren't currently in the best condition, a few holes in his jeans and jacket from different causes, none had been washed in a long while including himself. His dark facial hair had grown out into a slightly unruly growth on his face, but the hair never grew fast so if he were to actually give it any sort of a trim it would likely look like a perfectly respectable average beard. His hair was in a similar unruly condition, having grown out longer than he'd let it in years, which was more of an average length to most people since he'd always kept it short, now it was greasy and unwashed.


As he paced down the alley he thought he'd been mumbling, as he'd heard a voice. But upon turning his head in a small stupor he spotted a group of three men following him. Only now did he realize one was yelling his direction, much to Brian's dislike. " 'ey Birdman, how about we have a quick chat?" Came the voice, more clear now that Brian was actually paying attention rather than in his own dazed world. The guy looked like a blonde wannabe straight out of Grease, much to Brian's amusement, "Buzzch off boys." He replied lazily before turning back to head through the alley. This had clearly not gone over well with them as even in his state Brian could hear their footsteps getting closer on the damp asphalt below. Brian let out a sigh as he could see where this was going to go, and you'd think they'd have the brainpower to not pick a target who had wings and was clearly a Meta but not everyone's brain worked the same he supposed. He didn't want to deal with this, Brian simply wanted to go find himself a nice corner in an abandoned building to pass out in.


Brian truly didn't want to do this. 


When a hand grabbed his shoulder Brian's elbow came flew up on sheer muscle memory, smashing into idiot #1's nose. 


And yet he really did. 


Brian was spinning on his heels to face them, wings stretching out and into a V sort of shape for better movement. Idiot #1 had fallen backwards with his shattered nose with blood gushing out of it, panicking as his hands attempted to stop or fix it. Idiot #2 was staring at his fallen friend in shock, while Idiot #3 had pulled a knife and was already plunging it towards Brian. The blade missed, but not because Brian had dodged...more like because upon spinning his entire world had shattered and he'd careened a little to the left dizzily and then started vomiting. There was shouting, but Brian was dealing with trying to stop puking as he looked up to find Idiot #2 now rushing him. Brian wiped the sleeve of his shabby tench coat across his vomit crusted mouth, cursing that last beer. But he felt his blood pumping, adrenaline flowing, and oddly enough a smile across his freshly vomited face as he straightened his back.
 
Freddy grumbled initially as Damian continued to tell him to sit back and enjoy his meal, which only made Fredrick place his cheek in his palm as he stuck his fork into his thick omelet a few times before slowly lifting a bite to his mouth, slowly chewing it over as Damian went over his encounter with the gas, which made Freddy inhale a bit, clenching his fork just a bit harder. He swallowed hard, cutting off Damian momentarily,  "In over my head? Please tell me you're not about to try to stop me from going after the Jokerz or something, because I've been involved with these guys for much longer than you have, and I have every intention to see that they all burn to the ground by myself..." He looked at Damian intensely for a few moments before leaning back, popping another small bite of his omelet in his mouth, and gesturing for the man in front of him to continue.


He nodded along in agreement to what he had to say about Waller and Terry's relationship, but he paused when he pointed out the suitcase. His eyes quickly shot downwards to look at the suitcase, then right back up to look a Damian, "I mean, I appreciate the help, but how do I know you're not gonna track me and screw me over? Better yet, how can you be absolutely sure Terry won't be able to track me or just show up at my house late at night? I'll take the suit, but I would like would feel better having something more solid, like some kind of tip on how to defend myself against a guy who can shut down my entire operation in the span of a minute." He looked up at Damian almost like a child who had received the wrong gift for Christmas, a look that said, 'Thank you, this is nice and all, but it isn't what I wanted'.


@Sir Les Paul
 
"Anyone ever tell you not to look a gift horse in the mouth, bud?" Damian replied. His bright blue eyes were nearly identical to those that Terry had. They both belonged to Bruce, at least genetically. The difference was the years of torment, fighting crime and staring into the abyss that Damian had endured while Terry was sheltered in a cave. "I don't care if you go hunting down the Jokerz. All your efforts are data to me. Now, let me get one thing straight: I fought the real Joker. These thugs are nothing in comparison, so don't get your pretty little red panties in a twist thinking this one is yours," Damian answered the first question Freddy asked while also somehow belittling him slightly. It wasn't the condescending attitude that Terry had. It was slightly, but it lacked a certain tone. It wasn't as if the man twice his age had a superiority complex, it was just as if he simply 'knew' better; as if he was speaking from a level of experience that didn't require him compete with Freddy.


"Personally, I gave up my grasp on Gotham a long time ago. The work I do is intricate and requires going deeper and doing things most people won't. You're not that different, Freddy. You do the things that no one else wants to," Damian explained to him. It made sense to some degree. Not to mention, Duskwing was known for leaving a trail of corpses in his tracks. Damian was the son of Talia Al Ghul as well; a renown assassin in her day. Murder wasn't beyond him. Not in the slightest. There was a fair amount of depth in the thought that both of them went further than the others. "Fact is, bud, you can't be sure. I can't be sure. All you know is you've spent the last half-hour in here with me eating and good old Beets hasn't barged through the door. Moments like this are when you can choose to trust someone or cut yourself off completely," Damian told him. His tone returned to that of experience. The idea that these moments occurred. Right after that, Damian stood up and tapped on the table.


"You have a chance here, bud. This could make your life a whole lot easier or fuck you over. But, trust me when I say this: you're probably fucked either way without it. Terry is all about his image... and you just became bad for his," Damian said before walking towards the door. "Stay golden, ponyboy," he said before walking out.


@LokiofSP
 
Fredrick watched Damian walk out, breathing hard out of his nose at the man's comments, "You say that like I was ever good for his image to begin with..." He pushed his omelet from in front of him, deciding he was no longer hungry. He put back on his sunglasses and picked up the suitcase from under the table, deciding he would need to get out of the area as soon as possible, just in case Terry regained vision over the area. He walked out of the diner, walking five blocks away before even considering where he would go. He stopped by a street corner that smelled vaguely of vomit and took out his phone, quickly logging the events of the morning into his notes before pocketing the device once again. He decided at that moment it would probably be for the best if he just headed home and checked out the suit that he currently held.


@Sir Les Paul
 

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The suit was relatively simple, as promised. A simple front-facing visor that used the same transparent material as the Red Hood visage with an additional center lens capable of picking up various other wavelengths, such as infrared. The suit specifically came with low-end, proprietary communications. Encrypted and open radio frequencies - and that was it. No satellite feed, no internet feedback of any kind - the suit seemed ancient. But, that was its purpose. To remain off the grid from Terry, Freddy would need to keep himself as far away from networking as possible. The plating on the suit was actually more high-end than initially suspected. While Freddy might not have noticed it, it was some of the highest-end ballistic weave as a foundation for hybrid polymer plating that formed crystalline layers surrounded by a sheer-resistant tungsten alloy. In short, the suit made him incredibly hard to stab and resistant to blunt force damage. It was likely more 'safe' than his previous Red Hood garb. The last note for the suit, and the only one Damian left on actual paper for Freddy, were the two odd antennae on the back. They were designed for one thing: to send out intermittent electromagnetic pulses for up to three continuous minutes. In the worst case scenario, they could knock out several blocks and continue to do so until stopped or drained. They would knock all communications and visuals off Freddy if the need arose, giving him the exact edge he was discussing earlier. The mask design itself was not the only thing that would let him fly under the radar.


@LokiofSP   
 
Tim swiped through the pages on his tablet, reading in detail about the outlined plans Terry had for Gotham and a new crime-fighting force. The new inductees to the League, specifically. There was of course his own protege, Owl, but there needed to be more. Nightwing went back to Bludhaven and no one had filled the void of Batgirl aside from Blackbird, but she was a loose cannon in Bludhaven. Long story short, the family that once took residence in Gotham had split up between the two sister cities, leaving each force crippled. The last time Tim was active in the field, he was a duo with Damian. Damian dissolved that when he went rogue and Tim refused to. Fact was, Tim was the oldest living member of the Bat family left. Even Barbara passed just a few years back, but she was still his senior by a fair margin. Medicine helped keep him in shape, but he was nothing less than a liability in the field anyway. Tim never was a fighter like Dick or Damian. Tim was the detective, and his mind was still sharp. The only time he acted as Redwing now was if he needed to in an official capacity like he did with Alphus. But, beyond that, he was content to sit behind a desk, do the research and monitor the screens Terry provided. 


The biggest problem with their forces now were the state of Gotham and how thinly they were spread. Gotham was larger than ever in its tiered state. Even Bruce in his prime only had to cover around a fourth of the sheer area that the group had to now - if that. Tim could reflect back to the stark contrast of his era. At times, they bickered over who got what street just in case a thug showed up. The city was clean. It was boring. Bruce spent most of his time in the League and they picked up litter. Now, Damian was rogue, Jessica took Rebecca and fled back to Bludhaven, Tim was outright too old for the field and never had children of his own; his encounter with the Joker left him sterile. Freddy was a vigilante on the run from even Terry. It seemed that all there was for Gotham was an old man and a young gun with more potential than he could handle. Beetle spent a majority of his time discussing plans with Waller and even on the nights he could go into the city, it barely dented the actual crime rates regardless of how efficient he was - and he was. Unfortunately, terry was more bent on finding Freddy now than he was fighting real crime.


This left Tim to do the real dirty work. Terry had constructed a list of people of interest. Threats, like the Jokers, Croc, Jr., Poison Ivy - still as youthful and beautiful as ever, and even a handful of known mercenaries. A list of those fallen from the grace of the League which itself often correlated with the list of potential inductees. These were the people they needed. Bat family or not, they needed more people in their ranks. Terry had trust issues - potentially even worse than the ones he remembered Bruce having - but the fact was, they needed to pull resources from other places than just their old family ranks. "I don't know how you did it, Alfred..." Tim mumbled as he recalled the care and attention Alfred afforded Bruce without falter. A moment later, Tim fixed his eyes on a single page on the tablet and continued to look it over. This is where he needed to start. Reforming former members of the League. Getting them to his side again. He wasn't a member of the Bat family, but he was a start to expanding trust.


"Alphus, I have a mission for you," Tim said before pressing in the key on his jacket button to activate the communicator in his jacket lapel. "I'm in the West Side Hall; I'll debrief you there," he added.


@The Regal Rper
 
The crackling sound of a fire was the only company that Alphus found himself in as he sat in front of a rather large coffee desk, papers and documents strewn all over, sparsely scattered so he could give each one a careful and meticulous look over. For the past four hours since he'd entered the Durn establishment he'd spent his time carefully going over the various branches of his fa-- his business; the ACS. Going over all the members, all the current scientists that worked there. Making sure he knew their names, which division they worked in and when they had joined ACS to begin with.


It may seem unnecessary to scrutinize over those that were already enlisted and doing their jobs, but to him it was necessary. He had to make sure that there wouldn't be a repeat of what happened. He needed to make sure that there never be a repeat again. Within the past four hours he'd gone over most of those in the Metropolis division. Some had very few criminal records, nothing big. DUI's and maybe even unnecessary fistfights. But aside from that he hadn't found anything major. Nothing that really needed him to look that deeply into. Nothing that he needed his sister to look into.


Alphus rubbed his eyes and quickly glanced at the time, almost 8. It was starting to get late. When the sound of static caught his ears, it took him a second to register what was being said. His blue eyes had moved back to the documents when Tim's voice came in through the comm-link. When his mentor had finished speaking, he didn't really reply immediately. Three seconds passed, before he moved a hand to push the switch laying on the inner side of his coat before he responded: "Yes Sir, I'll meet you there shortly." Rising from his seat on the leather couch, he quickly slide all the indentures back into their case, placed it into his own briefcase, closed it then rose to head for his next destination.


Walking silently out of the living quarters, the business owner made his way down a level of stairs then through one very large foyer that displayed very few portraits of past Durn's. All of which Alphus frankly ignored as he made his way to an elevator that would take him to West Side Hall. Once inside and the elevator doors shut, he pushed a button that would take him to his designated destination and simply waited in silence. Calmly listening to the soft elevator music conveniently deciding to be his temporary host.


@Sir Les Paul
 
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Tim continued to read through the files on the people of interest compiled by Terry while Alphus made his way to the West Hall. It was odd spending more time in the significantly smaller, yet still remarkably impressive Durn manor given the sheer amount of time Tim spent at Wayne manor. Not only that, Alphus had no situated area like a "bat cave"; if they needed to use one, they had full permission just to go use the actual Bat Cave. It was a mild inconvenience and the reason Tim was so heavily focused on the tablet in front of him - it was tied closely to a highly-secured satellite connection to the databases maintained by Terry and Wayne enterprises, but more importantly, used for the Bat family. That little table could access files even Waller potentially had no access to.


Tim could hear Alphus approaching. Well, someone approaching, but it was more than likely Alphus.


Tim already had a data stick prepared to hand Alphus. His debriefing would be more than just verbal instructions. Tim was still quite traditional, however, in his insistence on giving orders in person. Once Alphus entered the room, Tim looked up from his the Wayne-tech tablet and asked, "Are you ready for your first official mission as a member of the new League?"


@The Regal Rper
 
"As ready as I'll ever be Sir." Sir, the word was implied with a strong sense of respect and reverence that could only be used by someone who owed another much more than anything he could think to offer. Looking over his senior, Alphus silently studied Tim. The tablet he clutched as well as the object he grasped in his other hand no doubt meant for his debriefing. The student held out a hand in motion for him to take the data stick. If he was going to get right to things so quickly he might as well initiate the process to speed things up a bit. "This Waller I've heard so much about, what is he like?" it was a small question, nothing big to look into. But it was one that he hinted at- one that needed answering. 


Not out of necessity, but out of pure curiosity.


Yes, he had agreed to join the League because Tim both his guardian and mentor had asked him to. But it was not because he trusted the ULJ. Far from it, he had no reason to in fact -not that they had ever given him the impression he needed to be wary of them- but was more because he trusted Tim, himself. The man had not led him astray in all the years they'd known each other and Alphus greatly doubted he would now.  


@Sir Les Paul
 
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"Not as bad as his grandmother," Tim replied, now looking Alphus plainly in the eye, "but, still problematic at times. Waller is a soldier, first and foremost. A damn fine one at that. Some men can fight, some men can lead - he can do both. His skill has helped elite soldiers bring down meta-human threats that would give any of us a problem - if not require back-up. He earned his place, no doubt. However, he has also served as the leader of Task Force X... the Suicide Squad. While we and most of the U.N. know him as The Wall, some knew him as a demon. A ruthless killer that made sure every job was 'clean'; the only ones that knew the details were those approved. He has no problem performing duplicitous acts and using deception, manipulation or just outright brutality. His sole redeeming quality is that he only does so when necessary. He is a dangerous man, Alphus. I do firmly believe he wants what is best for humanity, but so did your father and his father before him. Ambition can lead one askew. As they say, the road to Hell is paved with good intentions." 


His speech revealed little about Waller, but it did accomplish one thing: Tim validating many of the things that floated around. The skill and reputation of Waller, for instance. It was one thing for such a high-ranking official to simply have such claims; it was another for Tim Drake to agree with them. The other was the fact Tim called him dangerous. Tim called few things dangerous. Most of the time, he helped investigate, created contingency plans, found weaknesses... but Waller? That man was dangerous. Probably the biggest red flag was the note Tim ended on; his comparison of Waller to the Durn family. In a way, the his family line truly only wanted to help humanity, but their amorality in doing so allowed them to commit atrocities.


"As for your mission," Tim said before placing the data stick on the table in front of him, "I want you to retrieve and recruit one Brian Hall. He was a former member of the League that... didn't do well with the dissolution. Everything you need to know about him is in that file, but this is what I want you to know about this mission. This isn't a simple task. In fact, it may be one of the most difficult I will assign you. You don't need to protect him, fight anyone or retrieve something. You have to convince a grown man to do something with his life. This isn't what the media portrays us doing, but it is. Speaking of Waller, let me tell you a story about Batman." 


It was an oddity. Tim going off on a tangent. But, of the few times he did it, there was always an important message to the story. Especially when they involved his mentor.


"I'm sure you know of the Royal Flush Gang. The group has had several iterations and is often believed to be the foundation for the original Jokerz. Of the iterations, the very first had an incredibly powerful psychic. So powerful that she could bend reality itself. In the end, she died. It was a mess involving Amanda Waller, CADMUS, advanced training... but down to it, she didn't even make it to thirteen. Her brain couldn't handle her powers on a biological level and she was fated to an aneurysm. The problem happened to be that her powers were so great that everyone in all of Gotham and even miles beyond would be killed by the psychic backlash of her death. Waller, as always, had a plan... a method of killing her without triggering the backlash. But, it required someone keep her calm and be in range. Bru-... Batman decided to do it. He volunteered. Mind you, this was completely against his code, but he had to. He knew her, you see. He saved her once from the Joker himself. She was just a young girl being used. In all honesty, she just wanted a normal life. A family. But, whether it was the Joker or Waller, she was always a pawn to these people. So, he went to comfort her, to explain things to her, but she already knew. He told me this himself. He didn't need the device. She calmed down, reverted everything she ever changed and when her time came... there was no backlash. She was at peace. For a little while, he made sure she wasn't alone. He was her hero. A girl whose power made her a tool her whole life got to feel like more than just a weapon. It still haunts me, in a way... I can remember his voice telling me that all she asked was if he would sit with her."



 


@The Regal Rper
 
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For a good minute Alphus didn't say a word. He just listened- studiously, mind you as he took his seat and looked at the data stick his mentor had given him. Only pausing for one brief second when he thought Tim had made a joke about the infamous Amanda Waller herself, only to realize this was Tim Drake, he was talking to. The thought was ruled out as his own misconception. When his question was answered, Alphus began to busy himself with the data stick. Twirling the data based device carefully between fingers as he turned his attention to look on vacantly at the tapestry before, all the while making small mental notes on what was being said. While he hadn't received much, he did get the essentials of what he wanted to know about Waller. The most important thing being whether Waller was anything like his father and those that worked both with and before him. From what he could gather? Waller the III, worked for a good cause. A righteous one based around his own integrity and his own rules. He was willing to do whatever it took- be it iniquitous in manner or one that could cause rise to controversial discussion.  That was just as fine, in certain ways he was the same. Certainly not willing to go as far as using brutality or manipulation, but definitely willing to use methods to get answers if it didn't break his own code. That at least was the one thing him and his father had in common, that and other qualities. 


When it came to the mission Alphus returned his gaze back towards his mentor and listened on what had to be said. In all honesty, he was a little surprised not that you could tell it on his face or through expression. But at the very least this mission certainly meant more than simple recruitment if he had to aid a former ally of the JLA piece his life back together. It would be... different, but he was willing to see it through.  The transition to the story however, was something he hadn't been expecting either. No stranger to Tim's informative anecdotes, this one in particular felt far more different than any of the others.


The Royal Flush Gang. He'd read many reports about their actions back when he was still a child researching CADMUS. The JLA had handled them on multiple occasions and at the same time RFG had been reformed multiple times just as Tim had said. Some of the original members even being killed somewhere along the way. This story about Ace the metahuman however, was one he'd never heard before. Needless to say... he was astounded. More so by the grand bat's actions and compassion than anything else. And the very fact that such a little girl had been through such a horrible ordeal, only to end with her death in the long run.


Lost for words would've been an understatement. Alphus had no words whatsoever to say. He could practically envision it if he tried, but what was the point? That was years and years ago, long before his birth. And whatever role his family may or may not have had in this didn't really mattered, what did was if they did he'd right those wrongs. And if they didn't well he would still do his utmost best to make sure no one experienced what Ace had. Because if there was one thing out of these abilities he'd been given, he'd use it to do justice.


[SIZE= 14px]@Sir Les Paul[/SIZE]
 
Tim saw sheer depth that consumed Alphus as he processed the story he was told. Something about it seemed to shake him to a core part of him. Tim remembered back to when he saw a similar look inside the eyes of the man that told it to him. Bruce didn't tell Tim the story until his time was Red Robin. It was one of the stories that Bruce told almost each of his adoptive children as they matured. Dick had already taken up the mantle of Nightwing at the time, but he eventually heard the story. Tim asked him once about it. He asked if he could see the same sorrow in those cold blue eyes and Dick described it himself without any need for more detail. It was never clear whether Ace was an orphan or taken from her parents, but nonetheless, her childhood was stripped from her. Bruce knew that feeling. Ace probably had it worse. Far worse than Bruce. That was something the man in the cowl probably considered. That little girl was one of the few people that he could not sincerely say he understood and because of that Bruce Wayne - of all people - was left feeling sympathy and sorrow for another being. A dangerous being. But, a child nonetheless. That look is the same one that Tim saw in Alphus. Maybe not to the same degree, definitely not for the same reason, but like a storm tugging on the roots of a tree, something stirred within Alphus. Something made him think harder than he had in the last four hours of his paperwork.


A few moments of silence passed and Tim let it settle in for Alphus. Maybe moments like these are how Alfred handled it...


"He was a great man," Tim said. He was talking about Bruce. Most people only remembered Bruce in one of two ways: the old man that played puppet master to the League prior to his death or the birth of the Legacy that was Batman. So few people truly knew Bruce. So few people actually understood what he did as Batman. So few people understood the trials and tribulations that man went through, the Hellfire he endured, the lifetime of staring into the abyss... so few people remembered that Bruce was still human. That his motivations changed from the first days he put on the cowl to his last ones trying to keep his broken family together. Everyone remembered Bruce as a hero, an ideal, a shadow, but so few people remembered him as a father.


"A man that none of us will ever measure up to," Tim added, "so, don't eat up your time reflecting back or wondering. Leave that for old men like me. Upload that file to your communicator, wipe the drive, then track down Brian."


@The Regal Rper
 
"Yes Sir." He'd only said those words after a few more seconds of silence had passed. Rising as he took hold of his briefcase and the drive that held Brian's files in his hand Alphus looked once at Tim, nodded his head in a sign of respect then began to turn to leave. He paused for a brief second when his eyes caught sight of the tapestry that displayed the image of his great grandfather Mathew Durn in his wheel chair. Beside him, a much younger version of himself and sitting on Mathew's knee his sister Rebecca. The faintest of smiles seemed to touch the old man's heavily whiskered face, even if it was only small. Family had always meant so much to him.


Standing there for a few more seconds, Alphus looked back at Tim pocketed the drive, then shook his hand firmly. "I assure you, I'll bring Brian back. And I'll be sure to talk to him." He reassured looking Tim in the eye till he finished speaking. After that, without another word Alphus picked up his suitcase and turned on a heel, walking down the hall and taking out the drive before he pushed a button on his briefcase that would accept the drive and allow him to begin looking over Mr. "Brian Hall".


@Sir Les Paul
 

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