[quote=@Byrd Man] Figure I would go ahead and pull the trigger on this. [CENTER][COLOR=SLATEGRAY][B]C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L[/B][/COLOR][h1][color=ROYALBLUE][b]Gotham Noir[/b][/color][/h1] [img]https://i.imgur.com/7px5MvC.jpg?1[/img][h3][sup][sub][color=LightBlue]Slam Bradley [color=ROYALBLUE]♦[/color] Max Eckhardt [color=ROYALBLUE]♦[/color] Jim Corrigan [color=ROYALBLUE]♦[/color] Vicki Vale[/color] [color=ROYALBLUE]♦[/color] [color=lightblue]Jack Grogan[/color][/sub][/sup][/h3][img]IMAGE/BANNER[/img] [/CENTER][COLOR=ROYALBLUE][INDENT][B][SUP][SUB][H3]C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:[/H3][/SUB][/SUP][/B][/INDENT][/COLOR] [CENTER][sup][color=ADD8E6] “The belief in a supernatural source of evil is not necessary; men alone are quite capable of every wickedness.” -- Joseph Conrad [/color][/sup][/CENTER] [INDENT][INDENT] This will be a story involving characters over a man years span in the time before Bruce Wayne acted as Gotham's protector. It will feature crime, corruption, people who wield power like a truncheon, and how event he most high-minded reformers succumb to temptation. Murder, sex, lies, betrayal, and blackmail all set to a tune you can dance to. [/indent][/indent] [COLOR=ROYALBLUE][INDENT][B][SUP][SUB][H3]C H A R A C T E R M O T I V A T I O N S & G O A L S:[/H3][/SUB][/SUP][/B][/INDENT][/COLOR] So many motivations and goals, none of them pure or inspirational. [COLOR=ROYALBLUE][INDENT][B][SUP][SUB][H3]C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:[/H3][/SUB][/SUP][/B][/INDENT][/COLOR] [b]Characters:[/b] Slam Bradley -- Ex-boxer turned cop. Max Eckhardt -- Decorated Marine now homicide detective. James "Two-Gun Jack" Grogan -- Commander of the GCPD mob squad. Vicki Vale -- Reporter for the [i]Gotham Gabber[/i]. Jim Corrigan -- Detective in Narcotics, shakedown squad. Rupert Thorne -- Congressman Hamilton Hill -- Mayor Gossip Gertie -- Publisher/Editor for scandal rag the [I]Gotham Gabber[/i] Dr. Carter Nichols -- Police scientist. [COLOR=ROYALBLUE][INDENT][B][SUP][SUB][H3]S A M P L E P O S T:[/H3][/SUB][/SUP][/B][/INDENT][/COLOR] [hider=SAMPLE NOT IN CONTINUITY] [b]Westside Gotham 1:28 AM[/b] Bright lights looked down on pavement. Squad cards blocked off the public to the scene. Slam stood behind crime scene tape with all the others. Patrolmen directed traffic and kept civilians and reporters at bay. Geeks on the sidewalks peddled merch. They sold cheap Batman t-shirts, cheap Batman capes, chunks of rusty metal claimed to be genuine bullets used in the murder. Slam smoked with steady hands. A half-pint of Ripple on the drive over steadied him. FEATURE: A dead body on the pavement. A blue tarp covered him. Crime scene techs and plainclothes officers converged on the scene. He saw Homicide dicks and IAD men in sharp suits. He saw Charlie Fields in a sharp suit. Charlie was Slam's last partner in Homicide. Charlie loved the Life; capital L, always with a capital L. Charlie loved being a cop and solving murders. Slam used to. Slam told boxing stories and shadowboxed for effect. Slam used to be all about the Life. The Life turned on him. The Life chewed him up. It was still chewing him. Spitting him back out: TBA. A crime scene tech was coming out of the scene. Red hair with flecks of gray in them. He carried a camera around his neck. Slam locked eyes. Geppe said he was the one to see at the scene. He was one of their men inside the GCPD. Jim Corrigan was as dirty as the day was long. Slam remembered him going through three different IAD investigations and not a single one touched him. Corrigan was slicker than goose shit. "Corrigan," he said as the man passed by. "GB sent me." Corrigan got stiff. Corrigan looked around to make sure the coast was clear. "Slam fucking Bradley," Corrigan said softly. "Of all the people to send. Fuck... follow me." Corrigan led Slam to his car. He bummed a cigarette off Slam and passed him back his camera. Slam thumbed through the pix on the digital camera. Crime scene pix showed a GCPD uniform face down on the pavement. Shots got in close on the back of the head. Two shots, two entry wounds. No pix of the front because it would be fucking pulp. Slam saw stippling around the wounds. The killer got in close before pulling the trigger. "Who was he?" "Perkins," said Corrigan. "Boss of a patrol squad out here in the Western. Name ring a bell?" "Not particularly. But then again there's a lot of names I don't know anymore." Slam scrolled through the pix faster. Shell casings near the body ruled out a revolver as the primary weapon. Entry wounds looked like either a 9 MM or .40 were used as the murder weapon. It probably didn't matter. If it was a pro job, the gun was already down a storm drain on the other side of town somewhere. "What did you know about him, Corrigan?" Corrigan shrugged. "A hump by anybody's standards. I remember IAD looking into him hard after some shit he pulled. He got caught shaking down hookers for blowjobs and trying to run a half-ass protection racket." "And he was still here?" Slam asked. "Must had one hell of a union rep." Slam flicked his cigarette butt across the street and fumed. Slam got run out of the department for some petty bullshit, but this asshole got to stay GCPD until a shooter turned his brains into Swiss cheese? Only in this fucking city. "Can you get your hands on Perkins' personnel jacket?" He asked, passing Corrigan's camera back to him. Corrigan laughed. "You are barking up the wrong tree there. No matter how much money I owe Geppe, I can't get into those files. Given my reputation, IAD would be all over me like a fly on shit if I got anywhere close to this thing. They probably don't like me even here taking pictures, man. I me--" "You're right, Officer Corrigan." Slam and Corrigan turned. A tall, thin black man in a three-piece stood close by. His head was shaved and he wore big, black frame glasses. Slam's face flushed and he balled his fists up. "Mr. Bradley," he said with a grin. "It's been awhile." "Go fuck yourself, Bock." Bock had been IAD's point man in the investigation that ended Slam's career. Once upon a time, it had taken six full-grown men to pull Slam off Bock and to pry his big mitts off the thin man's windpipe. Bock picked lint from his suit. "You're a civilian now, Bradley. I could have you arrested for making threats to a sworn police officer, but I'll settle for your swift departure from the scene. This is a GCPD matter." Bock flashed a smirk and raised an eyebrow. "Where were you tonight, say around midnight?" "Ask your mother." Slam grabbed his crotch. "She's my fucking alibi. Literally." Bock's grin disappeared. He played with a phi beta kappa chain attached to his waistcoat. "Get the fuck out of here, Bradley, before I get the patrolmen to toss you out. And Officer Corrigan? Get back to fucking work." Bock turned around and headed back to the crime scene. Slam flipped him off. Corrigan stubbed out his cigarette and shrugged at Slam. He followed Bock back to the scene. Slam shook his head. He'd call Corrigan tomorrow and try to glom a copy of the initial crime scene report from the police lab and Homicide. That was all he could do on that front. All the knew was what he told Geppe an hour ago. A murderer had killed Sergeant Perkins. Slam lit up a fresh cigarette and beat tracks back to his car. He thought about Corrigan's words earlier. Perkins shook down hookers for BJs. If he was involved in the flesh market, then the hookers would know all about him. On the westside, when it came to pimps and johns and marks, there was one man Slam knew he could talk to: Bruce Vain.[/hider] [/quote] [h3][sub]OH[/sub] SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!!![/h3] [img]https://media0.giphy.com/media/14vh2VWCibnsuk/giphy.gif[/img]