Byrd Man

Rogue Continuum [CLOSED PENDING REBOOT]

<Snipped quote by Byrd Man>

So, he's Ron Swanson-lite.
Man, you just really want to compete with MB's Batman, don't you?

@Retired

Rogue Continuum [CLOSED PENDING REBOOT]

<Snipped quote by Byrd Man>

Is he just human, or does he have any super-abilities? Aside from immortality.

@Retired

Giving him anything more would make him OP.

Rogue Continuum [CLOSED PENDING REBOOT]

<Snipped quote by Byrd Man>

You have 12 hours. I challenge you to get both sillier and more serious. Give me another viable character to choose from. Go!

@Retired

Here:

| Character Identity |

Theodore Roosevelt

| Age |

Too old.

| Character Differences |
It's Teddy Roosevelt, and he's alive and with superheroes.

| Brief World Background |

Earth 1776 -- The Fightin' Fathers

TLDR;Crazy History Stuff

In 1776, the Second Continental Congress signed the Declaration of Independence and went to war with Great Britain. In early 1777 General George Washington met with John Adams and Thomas Jefferson, representatives of the Continental Congress, in Philadelphia. With Jefferson was a man from France. The young Gilbert du Motier, known as the Marquis de Lafayette, was a prominent French military office even at his very young age. With Washington was Prussian Baron Friedrich Wilhelm von Steuben. Both men spoke to the three revolutionaries about an old and powerful society known as the Timekeepers. Made up of the elite thinkers, noblemen, and politicians, the Timekeepers acted as metronome for the entire world, responsible for maintaining the rhythm and natural order of things. It was the Timekeepers that declared that the time of British hegemony in the Americas would begin to end. The colonies would win the war, Lafayette and von Steuben would help them.

In a ceremony in Philadelphia Washington, Adams, and Jefferson were inducted into the Timekeepers order and shown their secrets. The ancient society possessed powerful artifacts of supernatural nature and had access to magic. Using the Timekeepers' tools, the Colonies defeated England and declared their independence. In 1787 Washington was elected president of the United States, Adams his vice-president, and Jefferson appointed secretary of state. As part of the Timekeepers, all three men had been made immortal and given a serum that gave them special abilities. All three faked their deaths at appropriate times and went into hiding in Europe in the early 1800's.

In 1830 the three men discovered the Timekeepers' long and winding plot that would see the United States expand all the way to the Pacific ocean, and then shatter into two separate nations after a long and bloody civil war. The three founding fathers could not bear to see the country they founded destroyed. Defying their society, the men fled Europe and returned to US. They used whatever means they could to stop and delay civil war, influencing politics from the shadows. In 1860 they used their hidden influence to elect a man who would keep the Union together: Abraham Lincoln. They revealed themselves to him and covertly worked with Lincoln throughout the war. The Timekeepers discovered the founding father's treachery and turned on them. Unable to stop the Union from winning the war, they had Lincoln assassinated in revenge. This did not stop the Founders, who used their magic to bring Lincoln back from the grave days after he was killed.

Europe and the powers that controlled it could no longer be trusted. The old world could never govern nor control the new. The four presidents founded the Executive Branch. It served as a clandestine organization that would protect and fight for the United States, her interest, and freedom any place and anywhere. Their ranks are made up of former American presidents and other historical figures, each of them turned immortal in the same way the three founders were. Their long war with the Timekeepers ended after the First World War, when the last remnants of the old and rotten society were swept away in the fiery cataclysm of the war.

Now in 2019, they wage clandestine wars against a variety of threats that include the Secret Soviet Union, the Fourth Reich, and the Roman Republic of Zombies. But something dark and unknown lurks on the outer reaches of the world. A darkness is setting in, and an old power is returning to take control.

| Brief Character Background |

TLDR;Teddy is a Badass

Theodore Roosevelt was born in 1858 to a prominent New York family. The young "Teddy" had several adventures, from becoming a boxing champion at Harvard to a historian and politician, to cowboy and sheriff's deputy in Montana, before he ventured into public service. He served as the first Commissioner of the New York Police Department and helped the expanding city's police develop into a true metropolitan police force. He served as Assistant Secretary of the Navy before the outbreak of the Spanish-American War caused him to resign his office and recruit his own cavalry regiment to the fight the war.

As Colonel Roosevelt leading the Rough Riders, Teddy accomplished military victories in Cuba that launched his political career further. He ran and was elected as Governor of New York and began a crusade for public reform. The powers that be in New York became scared of Roosevelt and out-maneuvered him by having him nominated as Vice-President under incumbent William McKinley, tossing Roosevelt out of the governor's mansion and in a meaningless post for four years. An assassin's bullet changed everything.

When McKinley died, Roosevelt became President and pushed forward with the rapid expansion of American military and industrial might, as well as reform in industry, government, and business. He finished McKinley's term and was reelected in a landslide. He decided not to seek a third term and handed the ball to his good friend William Howard Taft. Roosevelt in retirement watched Taft's presidency with a critical eye. He judged that his friend has mismanaged the cause of the Progressives and decided to run for president again in 1912 as a third party candidate in the "Bull Moose Party" the bitter election between Roosevelt and Taft caused the two men to split the Republican and Progressive vote, allowing Democrat Woodrow Wilson to be elected.

Roosevelt watched powerlessly while Wilson guided America into the First World War, a role he believed he should have done. His failing health only worsened when he learned the devastating news that his youngest son Quentin's plane had been shot down over France. The man who had always loved the thrill of combat had the brutal truths of war brought home to him. He died less than a year later at the age of sixty.

Shortly after the war the Executive Branch exhumed his body and brought him back to life. Immortal and reinvigorated, Roosevelt tried to work his way out of the loss of his son. As an operative he participated in OPERATION: SCAR in Chicago to root out occultist bootleggers in 1924 and OPERATION: DAGGER STEADY in 1936 involving the growing mystic powers of the Nazi Thule Society. During the outbreak of the Second World War Roosevelt was active in all theaters, from stealing the German Enigma Code with Abraham Lincoln to battling a Japanese sorceress with his old rival Taft. After the collapse of the Third Reich and the retreat of the Fourth Reich, the Executive Branch dug in to support freedom during the long Cold War with the Soviet Union and their counterpart to the EB, the Heroes of Lenin.

The collapse of the Soviet Union and the emergence of terrorism as the main concern of the day means that Roosevelt and his colleagues have had to change up their way of doing things to protect the world from threats.

When Mojo picked inter-dimensional targets, Teddy was a natural choice. He entered the arena with his typical vigor, relishing the chance to prove his skill on a grand scale. But that was then. Now, Teddy resents the mindless violence and has now begun to long for home.

Rogue Continuum [CLOSED PENDING REBOOT]

I don't think anyone has submitted less serious characters. But glad to see more secondaries all around. I expect there will be a few more changes before the day is through.

@Retired

I mean if you want me to get sillier than a anthropomorphic duck bank robber, then let me know, my guy.

Absolute Comics - Season Two: The Monster Within

December 22nd, 1946
Western District Station
11:38 PM

The fat pervert spat blood. Slam sapped him across the face with a blackjack. Slam had his jacket off and his sleeves rolled up past the elbow. The interrogation room sweltered even at Christmastime. Fatty handcuffed to the bolted down chair weeped. He screamed. Two-Gun Jack Grogan sat in the far corner and peeled an orange with a switchblade.

Grogan said, "Chester York. You're a disgusting pervert."

Slam worked the fat man's ribs with the blackjack. He squealed like a pig. Grogan haw-hawed and bit into an orange slice. Slam's arms felt numb. Sweat stung his face. Going on twelve hours since they started their perv hunt. GCPD wanted the Snapshot Killer found post haste regardless of innocence. Pin it on a major creep, preferably one far enough off the deep end to not protest.

Grogan popped another orange slice and sang, "Chester, Chester, the child molester. You know, I ain't never met a boy named Chester who wasn't some kind of fiend. But you, son, you take the cake. All them women you killed, and for what exactly? Did it get you off?"

York spat teeth. "I didn't kill nobody! I like kids! Grown women it ain't my thing! Killing ain't my thing!"

Grogan touched the tip of his stetson. It meant GO HARD. Slam backhanded York with the sap. Slam worked arms and legs with the sap. York screamed loud. Bones snapped over the yells.

Fatty York gasped for air. He coughed up blood and teeth and said, "I'll... do whatever you tell me, I'll say what... whatever you want. Just stop hitting me."

SLam stepped back. Grogan spat pulp on the floor and smiled.

"Excellent. We're gonna get the DA in here and you're gonna confess. Now, let Detective Bradley coach you on exactly what to say."

*****​

Gotham Central
12:19 AM

Max swigged booze from a coffee cup and got back to work. Max, Fields, and Corrigan were a three man cold case squad. They were sequestered in Max and Field’s Homicide cubicles. Stacks and stacks of old sex crimes on the desk. Fields thumbed through it with Corrigan's help. Max had a list of perp sheets in front of him, searching for known criminals who were white men with dark hair who owned a white sedan.

Fields sucked on a cigar and blew smoke. "This sex offender shit is strictly from hunger, Max. If our guy was a rape-o or a pervert, why didn't he poke any of the girls?"

Charlie's bitching struck a nerve. Max rode a brainwave. The search for a diddler or panty-sniffer played wrong. HIS guy was a voyeur. He was passive up until the point of the killings. He was a peeper.

Fields sighed and said, "To hell with this. I know this is important, but I need a goddamn break. Anybody want some sandwiches?"

Charlie took orders and headed out to the deli across the street. Max looked at Corrigan. He kept working the case files. His shoulders sagged and his fingers twitched. Max knew the look. Corrigan was coming down hard. He'd need a fix sooner rather than later. Max turned back to the files. H rode his brainwave to the files, narrowed his search for white, dark haired men who owned white sedans AND who had some kind of peeping rap sheet.

Thirty minutes later he hit paydirt. Durfee, Chris NMI. DOB: 3/10/24. White male, black hair and brown eyes. He got popped with peeping tom beefs in '39, '41, '43, two in late '45. The last string of offenses sent him to prison for six months. His release date sent skin prickles down Max's spine: 8/21/46. Three weeks before the first Snapshot Killer victim.

Max stood up. His legs wobbled. He held on to the desk to right himself. He looked over at Corrigan. "I think I've found our guy. We need to go, right now."

Corrigan looked around. "What about Fields? What about backup?"

Max could feel the case's solving on his fingertips. Eight murders solved. His glory case drew nigh. His reputation cemented.

"Not enough time, let's go!"

---

Western Gotham City
1:10 AM

Max pulled the unmarked up to the curb. Snow fell in flurries across the street. Durfee's listed address: A flophouse that was easy driving distance to all of the murders. It coalesced into theory. It gave Max goosebumps. He popped the trunk. Corrigan got out. Max got out and opened the trunk. A pump shotgun sitting in the back. He picked it up and racked a round into the chamber.

Max said, "Cover the back while I go in the front."

Corrigan scampered towards the flop's rear entrance. Max's feet crunched on snow as he went to the front door. Christmastime in Gotham. Snow flurries flecked his hair. Red, numbing hands on cold gunmetal. His ambition coalesced with absolute justice, opportunity sprung forth. Bold dreams required bold action. Eight women were dead. Heinous crimes required swift resolution.

Max said a Hail Mary and kicked the door in. There's Durfee, on a tattered couch in soiled tighty whities. Max tried to say 'Police' and 'You're under arrest.' Nothing came out. THERE: Durfee moves for something. Max squeezes the trigger on the shotgun. It kicked back. Durfee's chest caved in. Max screamed and fired again. A second shot blew his face off. Durfee flopped backwards on the floor twitching.

He dropped the shotgun. Blood spatter on his glasses. He shuffled to Durfee. Saw he was going for a marijuana cigarette on the table. Max let out a dry sob. He stepped over Durfee's body. He stumbled into the kitchen. He upended the table. A box flopped on to its side. Pictures spilled out. Shots of all eight women killed by the Snapshot Killer. Max's ears rang. Meaty hands on his shoulder. Corrigan's. He heard the sirens. Cops on the scene. They gawked. They cheered and gave Max pats on the back.

One of them said, "It's down. The whole goddamn case is down.

One of them laughed and said, "Eckhardt, who would have thought?"

Someone said, "Shotgun Max."

Absolute Comics - Season Two: The Monster Within

Angel Eyes
Part I

Seattle

My fingers slowly glided across the ivory keys of the piano. I was playing “Skating in Central Park” by Bill Evans. The crowd in Staccato’s that night seemed to be half-paying attention to me as they had their drinks and carried on conversations. That was how I liked it. I saw myself as part of the decoration of the place, the piano player that made the piano bar legitimate. Despite the seeming lack of interest, the tip jar on the end of the piano had a nice wad in it.. The crowd broke out into a smattering of applause as I finished the Bill Evans tune. I was preparing to go into “Angel Eyes” when I saw him watching me from the bar.

Floyd Bowron, ten years and almost twenty pounds since I last saw him. The blotchy skin around his nose and cheeks let me know how his battle with sobriety was going. He had already taken out half an old-fashioned in between the time he sat down and the moment I saw him. I cleared my throat and stood.

“I’m going to take a short break, folks, but I’ll be back shortly.”

I made eye contact with Bowron as I passed his table. I heard his chair scrape and heavy footfalls behind me. We were on the far end of the bar, all alone, before I turned to look at Bowron. He flashed a smile as he took a seat at the bar.

“Hi, John. Didn’t know about your gig here until I started to ask around.”

“It pays the bills,” I said coolly. “Seattle PD never saw fit to grant me a pension, so I have to make ends meet.”

“I’m sure you’re okay, I’m sure you’re getting something from LAPD, right? If not a pension or a settlement, at least some hush money…”

I sighed. “Are you here for a reason, sergeant, or do you have nothing better to do than to harass your former partner?”

“I have a reason,” said Bowron, before pulling his ID and badge out of his jacket pocket. He flashed the gold badge. “And it’s captain now.”

“I have to get back to work soon, captain, so if you could get to it, I w--”

“I need your help.”

Bowron downed the rest of his drink before catching the bartender’s eye and pointing to his empty glass. I waited patiently as Bowron got his refill and took a slug from it before speaking.

“It's not easy, okay? The way we left things I'm swallowing a lot of pride to come in here."

"Swallowing a lot of booze too," I said. "But some things never change."

"Caleb Maddox is missing.”

I knew it. Since seeing Bowron’s ruddy face in the crowd, I knew he was here to talk about Celeste. I ordered a drink from the bar and took my own Bowronesque gulps to prepare myself for what came next.

"He's nineteen now," said Bowron.

"Nineteen," I said softly. "Hard to believe."

"Yep, and nobody gives a shit when a legal adult disappears. Just another runaway as far as missing persons is concerned."

“Last Tuesday was the tenth anniversary of her disappearance,” I said. “Were you aware of that?”

“Of course, John,” Bowron said with a cocked finger. “You act like you’re the only one who suffered. It was a fucking nightmare for all of us, me included.”

“Whatever you say… captain.”

“I made a huge fucking mistake asking you for help.” Bowron finished his second old-fashioned off and pulled cash from his pocket. “I thought maybe there would be a trace of the old you still left. But I was wrong.”

“Wait.”

Bowron froze, cash still clenched in his pudgy fist. I thought back to that time. It was a little over ten years ago, but an entire lifetime had seemed to transpire. Looking back, I suppose it had. Pianoman John Jones was the current me, Detective Jones was the old me. But was it someone I could be again? Especially since the damage that the case had done to me. J’onn J’onnz was dead, as dead as the red planet he came for. But maybe I could bring the old manhunter back.

“Give me all the information you have,” I said after a long pause. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Rogue Continuum [CLOSED PENDING REBOOT]

Agreed.

Absolute Comics - Season Two: The Monster Within

Oh God oh fuck it's Season Two, now I actually have to post in the game I signed up for.

@Simple Unicycle

Me waiting for Uni's two weeks to be up like:

Rogue Continuum [CLOSED PENDING REBOOT]

sheet

| Character Identity |

Pecker

| Age |

???

| Character Differences |

It's Richard Stark's Parker, the hardboiled thief. Except he's a duck. More info on Parker here:en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Parker_(Stark_n…

| Brief World Background |

Earth-1878

It's like the real world, only with ducks. In their version of the 1960's.

| Brief Character Background |

Pecker is a master thief. He is an expert at any and all forms of theft, gunplay, and murder. A consummate professional with ruthless efficiency, Pecker was at the height of his career in 1962 when he was abducted by Mojo's men and sent into the arena. Pecker was assumed to be an easy mark, but his years of survival as a criminal gave him certain skills that made him adept to outlasting the combats he has faced. A curious oddity, Pecker has become a fan favorite among those that watch Mojo's games.

Absolute Comics - Season Two: The Monster Within

December 22nd, 1946
Gotham Central
9:30 AM

Corrigan hit the head. He parked in front of a urinal and unzipped. The door swung open halfway through his piss. Someone loomed close. Jim turned. Slam Bradley towered over him. Bradley smiled. His big hands closed around Jim's shoulders. He shoved Jim into the urinal. Water and pissed splash. He struggled. Bradley's hands felt like vise grips. A knee in his lower back kept him pushed hard against porcelain.

Bradley got in close and whispered, "If you're going to keep stealing and shaking down dealers, make sure they're not Jefferson Skeevers' guys. Skeevers is an asshole, but he has enough sense not to threaten a cop. That's why I am personally delivering this message. This constitutes your first and only warning, Corrigan."

Bradley shoved him hard one more time. He banged his head against the tile wall. Slam backed away. Jim pushed away from the urinal and pressed against the wall. Bradley was already at the door. He looked back at Jim and winked. He disappeared out the door. Jim came out after him, water spritzed and reeking of piss. Whiskey Max rounded the corner. He fish-eyed Jim and took in his disheveled clothing.

"Tidy your appearance, Detective, and come with me. We may have a lead on these killings."

*****

9:46 AM

Slam found Grogan in the Sex Crimes office. Three of his goons snarfed doughnuts and rifled through sex offender files. They were looking for a prime candidate for the Snapshot Killer frame job. Grogan had his feet hiked on the squad boss's desk. His pants leg rode up, a snub-nosed .38 peeked out from an ostrich skin boot.

Two-Gun Jack spat tobacco juice in a chaw cup. "Samuel, come to help with the perp hunt?"

Slam said, "Can we talk?"

They went out to the parking garage. Slam wore a coat against the cold. Grogan went in just short sleeves. His twin holsters sagged. He slid the gunbelt up higher on his waist.

Grogan said, "I'm all ears, son."

"I saw Jeff Skeevers this morning. We had a conversation that pertained to you. It was quite troubling."

"Finish your thought, boy. I hate being led around by the snout."

"He said you're in deep to some people"

Grogan's hands twitched. "Fuck Skeevers. A coon with grand visions and a big mouth, nothing more."

"Give me details, Cap. What's going on and how can I help?"

Grogan spat juice on the pavement and took off his stetson. He ran his fingers through thinning hair and said, "I made a few bad investments. Let's leave it at that. You want to help, help me close this case as soon as possible and we'll do what we can to mend fences before it's too late."

*****

10:00 AM

Max drove through traffic. It was holidays heavy. People doing last minute Christmas shopping. He thought of Mary. He hadn't gotten her anything for Christmas yet. This Snapshot Killer business got in the way. He'd find time tonight to go shopping and get... he didn't know what she wanted.

Corrigan rode shotgun. He still looked spooked. Something happened to him. He remained mum on it and gazed out the window smoking cigarettes. Traffic hit a lull. They stalled out amidst traffic jams. Corrigan tossed his smoke out the window.

"Why me?"

Max said, "What do you mean?"

"Why bring me into all of this? I found the body, yeah, but I'm a Narco dick."

Max squared his glasses and said, "You're also very compromised. Your reputation proceeds you, Corrigan. You are a well-known narcotics abuser who routinely shakes down drug dealers. Even with that baggage, your past casework implies that you are a competent investigator. Your drug use gives me a wedge I can use against you if you do not cooperate. While others tolerate your misdeeds, I will not hesitate to report you to Internal Affairs and have you thrown out of the department."

Corrigan snarled. "You're a fucking prick, you know that?"

"So I've been told many times. If you can clean up, I think you can be quite the comer in this police department."

Max hit the lights on his unmarked. Traffic parted quicksville. He hit the gas and sped through stalled traffic as fast as possible.

Corrigan said, "That's mighty high praise coming from Whiskey Max."

"Think nothing of it, Shakedown Jim."

--

Western Gotham
11:03 AM

It was a dive bar if there ever was one. Cramped space, tiny bar, rickety chairs, moth-eaten upholstery on booths. Jim sat on a barstool and watched Eckhardt and Charlie Fields hit paydirt. An honest to god witness turned up during canvassing. The wit was tall and imposing as hell. He sent prickles down Corrigan's chest. He reminded him of Bradley's threat, whispered softly but full of malice. There was no impotence behind his words.

Eckhardt said, "You work here as a bouncer, Mr. Norman?"

Norman nodded. "Yeah, been here for a few years now. Call me Jake."

Fields said, "Jake, tell Sergeant Eckhardt what you told me."

Norman nodded again. "Okay. I was outside the bar here last night. It was dead, everyone spooked by the killings, and I stepped out to have a smoke. I saw a woman walking towards the bar. I noticed her because she was the only one on the street."

Eckhardt cleared his throat. "What time was this?"

"About two in the morning."

Jim did the math. He found the dead girl's body around three thirty. Medical Examiner's report put her time of death between one and three. It seemed to check out.

Fields pulled a photo out. Crime scene pix of the dead girl's face straight on and at side angles. "This her?"

Norman squinted. "Can't really tell. It was dark out and she didn't get close enough to see her face real good because about halfway down the block this car pulls up. A white looking Chrysler all beat up to shit. It idled there and talked to her for a minute and she got in. The car passed by the bar. It had a cracked windshield and dried mud all down the side. I saw a white man with dark hair driving the car."

Jim saw a look pass between Eckhardt and Fields. Excitement. A lead. Months without a goddamn trace, and now they had a lead on this son of a bitch.