Master Bruce

CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

Might need about 24 hours leeway... Friday's my next day off.

@Hound55

Fine, go. Do your "job", that pays "money" and earns you a "living" for your family.

CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

Gotham City, Precinct 27
Captain Gordon's Office
2:10 AM

"So I see. That certainly switches things into a more interesting perspective. And you've been watching them for how long?"

Agent Edward Nashton clasped his hand against his chin as he stared down at Jim Gordon's wall of leads connected to the ongoing Batman case that the department had been trying to crack for months. And though it consisted largely of copies made from the official documents strung together by connective wires, everything had made it to this wall for Nashton's convenience. He had made sure to commandere the Captain's office as his own, much to Gordon's chagrin, for as long as he remained in Gotham. Which as he had just revealed to Gordon would be indefinitely. That part of what he had told the unwitting head of this district of the GCPD was the unmitigated truth - that his stay extended far beyond The Batman's arrest and capture, which seemed possible to be happening within the hour.

"Days, sir. We've been tailing Skeevers and Zucco since late Thursday. They've been taking meetings with Thomas Blake, the current figurehead of the Moxons."

"Yes, I know. El Gato, the ringleader. Which is highly interesting, given that both are Capo Italiana and wouldn't ordinarily be caught dead within Moxon territory."

What was more important is what Nashton had failed to mention. There was more to the Five Families than what anyone in public office had previously suspected, including the fact that out of the titular five, one faction remained entirely anonymous. This glaring omission seemed to have been lost on most who had ever dug into the case, but Nashton had been quick to catch on. In truth, capturing Batman had become a secondary priority to him ever since, as that seemed to be a mystery worth solving. The true riddle that the Agent wanted to have a hand in solving was who the fifth arm of the biggest crime syndicate in Gotham actually was, and why nobody seemed to be interested in pressing any of the made men currently incarcerated in Blackgate Penitentiary.



"What about Agent Riley's contact within The Royal Flush Gang? Have they been keeping a regular contact going, or should I be looking for a replacement for poor Peyton?"

The voice on the other end of Nashonton's earpiece cleared his throat.

"As of earlier this evening, everything's stable. Riley didn't seem to learn much, but it seems as though that the reason is that there isn't much to tell. The Royal Flushes operate on something of a randomized schedule, and their leader's gone radio silent over the last month. The Red Hood, I think they call him."

Nashton massaged his brow, annoyed by the tedious need to educate his subordinate.

"I am well aware of The Red Hood, Agent Brown. Gotham's first mytical masked lunatic, spawned from an archiac time period in the city's history. He, or rather they, have been operating under a series of interchangable faces hidden beneath variations of the same disguise since the early 1950's. The radio silence does not surprise me. It's entirely possible that the current Red Hood has yet to be chosen by the gang leaders who run the outfit. Once one of them has outlived their usefulness, they're generally done away with."

"That's just it, sir. Riley's contact claims that this current Red Hood is said to be the same that's been running the gang since it's transition into The Royal Flush Gang, which happened years ago. He's even gone as far to rechristen himself as King, with his direct lieutenants being named off of playing cards. There's an Ace, a Jack, a Queen, and the associated numbers. It's like they're trying to become a damn cult."

Nashton raised an eyebrow.

"A deck of cards theme. But no wildcards among the deck. Interesting. An intentional miscalculation, or something more?"

"With all due respect, sir. The entire outfit is a series of wildcards. They're the single most unpredictable part of your puzzle, and I don't like it. Riley doesn't either. She's requested to have her contact pulled out."

Nashton rolled his eyes.

"Don't be such cowards. Tell Riley that her contact is to remain. If need be, have her grab another and take the operative's place. We cannot afford to lose the insight, especially if what they claim about what exactly they did to Gotham's previous prominent masked vigilante is true. I need to know the validity of that claim, as I suspect the man once known as 'The Great Crusader' lived through the ordeal. And that he traded in his ski-mask for a cape and cowl."

Brown sighed.

"Yes, sir. I'll relay the message to Peyton and keep tabs on Skeevers and Zucco. Is there anything else?"

There had been a multitude of interviews, of course, on the very subject of a fifth family. But at every turn, the police were stonewalled. The men in questioning refused to even speak of a fifth. Some even swore that there was no fifth family entirely, and that it was all a smokescreen to make Carmine Falcone's allegiances with the other cartels seem more legitimate. Which was very doubtful, as Falcone was already thriving. In his head, Nashton rattled off the names of the possible organizations with mob connections that could be filling the proverbial slot, but none of them seemed worthy of the others' attention or respect. Of the known factions, between Falcone's Syndicate, Maroni's Capo Italiana, Oswald Cobblepot's Red Triangle, and The Moxon Family, only Cobblepot seemed to be in an active stage of recruitment. And according to Nashton's own intel, the candidates were... extreme. Far beyond any simple gang of hoodlums looking to make their mark in organized crime.

The Penguin was planning something big, and Nashton began to wonder to himself. Was it to overthrow the remaining families and establish himself as the man in charge above Falcone, or was there a possible connection - nay, even an alliance - with this mysterious fifth entity. It would have to be someone of considerable influence, which hardly fit with the suspect factions. The Bertinelli Family was considered mid-level, with the patriarch having slummed his way away with no speciality trade. He dealt in everything from guns to cocaine, but none of it was of the quality expected from a major distributor. The Grissoms were long since done after the passing of the elder Carl Grissom, having met his grisly end inside a penthouse suite with six slugs embedded into his chest. No one knew who'd offed him, but there were rumors that it was Grissom's own number one. He'd skipped town since and was a non-entity. And as for The Triad, despite rumblings that they were looking to stake a claim in Gotham, they were not actively seeking to move in as of yet. SHIELD intel had revealed that they were off vying to establish a presence in New York, but had otherwise remained native.

Which left only The Royal Flush Gang, who would never get into bed with Falcone, along with the lesser gangs. An assortment of losers from the likes of Irishwoman Erin McKellen, small-timer Sid The Squid, amputee Lefty Knox, and Robert 'Bob The Goon' Goodman. But something about that seemed entirely off to Nashton, who mentally recounted everything that he had learned. There was a missing puzzle piece amidst the scattered remnants of Gotham's criminal underworld. And the first rule in puzzle solving within the context of Nashton's trade was that a missing piece was often the one overlooked.

An even more scarce, less obvious faction? Frustratingly, Edward didn't know. All that he knew was that once this Batman business was taken care of once and for all, he could shift all of his resources towards narrowing down the identity of the elusive fifth. While Gordon and his inner-circle played cat and mouse with a freak in a costume, Nashton felt confident that by remaining here, he was doing the real work that was needed. And with the reveal of the fifth entity, Edward would have all of the dominoes in place. From there it would be a simple matter of toppling them over to reveal the fractured inner-workings of the crime families and snuff them out in one fail swoop.

"No, nothing more. I'll leave you to your stakeout. As always, keep me updated on the secure channel. I don't want any of this leaking to Gordon or the other precincts. They're in way over their head, and I intend to prove that all it takes to remove these potential trouble sources is an intellect such as mine."

Nashton paused, mid-thought.

"Oh, and Arthur. How is the family?"

Arthur Brown started to speak, but immediately sounded flustered. It brought a smile to Nashton's face. He knew that the move from California to Gotham had been something of a strain on his marriage, with their infant daughter having to be raised in a poorly upkept apartment somewhere on the outskirts of town. Though he wouldn't admit any malicious intent, there was something in making Agent Brown as uncomfortable as humanly possible that gave Nashton a certain thrill. Like he was Edward's own personal laboratory mouse. Loyal to a fault, and always suffering for it.

"Sorry, didn't catch that last part. Echo Team out."

More than pleased with himself, Nashton turned back to the series of police sketches, criminal profiles, list of suspects, and grainy, out-of-focus photographs taken of The Batman over the six month stretch that his reign of momentary terror had produced. Nashton looked them up and down, and found himself chuckling.

"You'll have to forgive me, my caped friend. But in a month's time, I just can't picture you being more than a cliffnote in Gotham's otherwise miserable history. A grown man out to extend his own livelihood by living out every night as if it were Halloween. It's so ludicrous that it reminds me of an old riddle. What does one find themselves always find themselves racing against, yet always catches up with them?"

Nashton reached into Gordon's desk, which he had picked the lock of, and produced a large glass bottle, beginning to pour himself a glass of scotch. The view of Gotham from this desk was beginning to feel alot more comfortable, Nashton thought to himself. It was such a shame to be wasted on a cop as inept as Captain Gordon.

"The answer is time. And oh, how I look forward to watching your's run out."

Gotham City, The Narrows
West District
2:10 AM

"Alright, you know your primary target. Let's get this done as quickly as possible. I want a routine sweep of the entire area. Teams of two per each building. The homes, we're gonna ask permission to check. Stress the situation, if need be. We don't have the warrants to search."

Outfitted in a bulletproof vest, Jim Gordon held up a megaphone to address the series of SWAT and tactical officers that awaited on him to give the order to move out. Despite the heavy rain, the Captain was confident that if he and his men played this right, there wouldn't be a need for a Batman Task Force anytime soon. Jim practically couldn't wait to see the look on Nashton's arrogant face when he laid the cuffs on the bastard himself and hauled him off into a holding cell like any other criminal. This was going to make up for what he had done. With Batman and Lawton in custody by his order, Gordon could come clean about his deception and make enough off a case to get off with a light suspension, at worst. If there was anything he hated, it was being made to remain dishonest.

"Montoya! Get a barricade up and running between this road here and the junction at 57th and Palance Street! I want a five block perimeter going in all directions! No one leaves the area without my say-so, you understand?"

The momentary static on Gordon's radio eventually passed, as Sergeant Montoya replied.

"Copy that, Captain. Okay, people! You heard the man!"

Content with his order, Gordon signaled for the rest to move out. Enthusiastically, SWAT moved past him in single file order and fanned out across the area, looking for even a hint of pointed ears to put into their own crosshairs. The Captain had stressed that they wanted Batman alive, but some on the force figured that if push came to shove, there was no reason not to say that they'd been provoked.

Handing the megaphone to Lieutenant Tork, who was wearing a GCPD issue rain poncho over his regular suit. Tork placed the megaphone into the open trunk of his own squad car and produced a tactical pistol, making sure to check to make sure that the clip inside was fully loaded before shutting the trunk door.

"By all means, Jim, don't hesitate. We can hardly stand this holding of the tongue you're doing."

Gordon narrowed his eyes at the neighborhood ahead of him.

"Your sass is noted, Tork. I know you've got every reason to believe the opposite, but this is it. I've just got a feeling that we've finally got the son of a bitch."

Tork shook his head, grabbing a bulletproof vest for himself as an oncoming officer passed them out, throwing it over his head and beginning to clip it in place.

"Maybe. Or maybe this'll turn out to be another wild goose chase. He's given us the slip under worse situations. And remember, The Bat's not the only target we're after, here. The whole reason we were called was because there was a mention of metahuman activity. You do remember that, right?"

Gordon was barely paying attention as he continued to scan each building and each rooftop for a sign, any sign, of that caped sillhouette that he'd only managed to capture a select few faraway glimpses of in the past.

"Of course. Certainly."

Tork gave him a look, but made sure to keep it to himself. After all, it was better that he indicated his skepticism behind the Captain's back than infront of him.

"So I guess it's you and me performing the sweep, Jim? Or did you want to be a pussy and stay behind?"

Cocking a loaded shotgun in his hands, the Captain looked over to his Lieutenant and smirked.

"It's like you don't know me at all, Frank. Standard procedure. We go in, comb the area, we get out and move onto the next. You cover my six, I cover your's."

York smirked back.

"Right. Like this is my first rodeo. Let's---"

BOOM!

"HOLY MOTHER OF GOD!"

Gordon's eyes widened as each individual member of SWAT found themselves knocked back by the force of a powerful, firey explosion that had decimated an entire building. The once-stood structure in question had been an old factory that specialized in making light fixtures. Oddly enough, according to reports from the technicians working at the Gotham City Power Grid, that particular location had shown spikes of electrical activity just before a momentary power outage had wracked half of Gotham. Shielding his face from the oncoming soot as a wave of it came flying at him, Gordon raised his gun and kept it tracked on the area as others recovered.

"Fall back! Fall back! I repeat, fall back! We need to regroup and take a headcount! I want to be sure that no casualties were taken in the middle of that!"

"There weren't."

To Gordon's utter surprise, a figure stepped forward from the blast. Tork was on the ground, barely conscious, but caught a glimpse of the silhouette too. And immediately, he trained his gun on the man standing just ahead of the rubble of an explosion that he'd probably caused.

Gordon's mouth went agape as he found himself unable to pull the trigger, staring down the blight of six months of his career dead in the eyes. It was the first time that he'd laid eyes on the man in full, and despite wanting to tell himself otherwise, his enemy certainly looked every bit as intimidating as the criminals he'd beaten to a pulp had led Gordon to believe.

"That was just a warning for the rest of your men. In the event that they started getting ideas. Call them off, or I start blowing up others."

Gordon finally raised his shotgun and angrily spat the soot coating his teeth.

"Don't you goddamn move! You're bluffing!"

The figure narrowed his eyes.

"I doubt that's a chance you're willing to take. Your department doesn't seem to know what I'm capable of anymore. You wanted me, Gordon?"



"Here I am."

CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

Weekly Post Check!

If these are inaccurate, let me know and I apologize in advance. I'm on my phone and double checking these would be alot more time consuming. But I will be double checking later tonight.

11 Days Due (3 Days To Go)
@Hexaflexagon
@Inkarnate

10 Days Due (4 Days To Go)
@Hound55
@Nib
@GreenGrenade

7 Days Due (7 Days To Go)
@Retired

CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

When Iris and Bruce meet and know eachothers secret IDs. "You know I can hook you up on a date. I have this great friend called Martha."

@Sep

That would go downhill faster than even Iris could anticipate.

CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

<Snipped quote by Master Bruce>

'Brood', that whhat the kids call it these days?

@Sep

Nah.

Batman can only get off on women in cat-themed spandex and inconveniently awkward mentions of his mom's name.

CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

Bruce will bring the camera.

And just... brood in the corner.

CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

As long as Barry is in the midst of screwing up a good thing, I want to say that Iris should go for the big blue rebound. But unfortunately I can't lend my support to the pairing, as...

CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

Gotham City, The Narrows
Abandoned Factory
2:01 AM

"...Phil..."

Bringing her hand to her throbbing forehead, Jessica Jones finally regains consciousness after being under for nearly twenty minutes. My eyes are directed outside, between the cracks of light that shine between the wooden boards bolted against the windows, and I try and keep my distance as she recovers. Both in the event that her connection to Poison Ivy hasn't been completely severed and for the sheer fact that I'm not completely sure of how to approach this woman. We hadn't met before tonight, and it was under less than idealized circumstances. For all that she knows, I'm a wanted murderer. For all that I know, she's hiding a past that could indicate criminal misconduct. Worse for me, she possesses power that I can't even begin to comprehend. If she were willing to kill me, she could do it with very little effort. So as Jones manages to slowly push herself into a sitting stance, wincing from the series of welts and bruises that came as a result of a full fifteen minutes' worth of physical trauma that I was forced to inflict, I say nothing and allow her to get a feel for the room. There's no telling what she remembers, if anything.

Besides. I have a much bigger problem, as ACE was quick to alert me. The adrenaline shots are wearing off, and I'm starting to feel the toll that the earlier fight has taken on me. To tell the truth, it's bad - worse than I'd probably even be willing to admit. Broken ribs are a guarantee at this point, a growing sensitivity to light is already confirming the concussion, and I'm bleeding somewhere internally. If I were smart, I'd have left Jones where she lay and have Bruce Wayne checked into Elliot Memorial under the excuse of a car accident, or something sufficient enough to explain this. But I couldn't just leave the situation unattended. If Jones were to be back under Ivy's control, I'd have effectively left a mother and child to their doom. No matter what happens to me, I refuse to allow anyone else to die tonight.

Ontop of that, there's the matter of the police bulletin that Alfred's texted me about. As should have been expected, the conflict between Ivy and I resulted in some massive collateral damage. Half of a small neighborhood was torn apart due to the sheer physical strength of Jones' metahuman abilities. As I feel partly to blame for not being able to contain this, I've already made it a priority to pay for the damages. But the GCPD are en route, and Jones' unconsciousness cost just cost me a considerable amount of time. ACE is tracking their squad units as they advance onto the O'Neil Bridge. It'll only be a matter of minutes, and in my condition, I doubt that I'll be able to pull off the same type of close-range escape as I did the night that I first battled Deadshot.

Which means, as much as I hate to admit it, I may need some help.

"Cuntfucking son of a whore, my head.", Jones mutters to herself in pain, leaning forward. "Haven't felt like this since... Christ, since before the accident. What in the shit happened to---"

That's when she suddenly notices me standing off in the distance. Her eyes go wide and she nearly falls back at the sight of me, spooked out of her mind. I look over my shoulder and glare. But in truth, I can't help but feel a little relieved. It's good to know that the costume's intended effect can still work on someone of her capabilities.

"It's... you."



"Holy fuck, it's really you. You're actually real and not some asinine city-wide prank that the police made up to sell tabloids."

Under the cowl, my eyebrow raises.

"So that's what people think of me."

"...Ahh..."

Still in a bit of a daze and in a tremendous amount of pain, at least for her, Jones slowly pulls herself up with a metal railing against a piece of long-since decommissioned machinery. I take a step away from the window and back into the shadows. All things considered, I should wait a moment before I leave just to be sure of whether or not Ivy's still in there. But the police are still closing in. I'm not used to being stuck between a rock and a hard place, but it seems I've found myself there.

"Try not to move too fast. I don't know how well you respond to head trauma, if you're even able to have that, but you took some considerable punishment."

She scoffs at the remark I made in regards to her power.

Probably something of a touchy subject. I honestly wouldn't know.

"If you consider a hangover to be head trauma, then I've gotten plenty of that. This isn't much worse. Just alot more... all over."

Stumbling ahead, trying to maintain her balance, she takes another look at me and stares, giving less of a fearful reaction and more of a perplexed, borderlining skeptical glare. One that I'm not entirely accustomed to.

"Something wrong?"

"Not at all. Infact, I just talked to another grown man dressed like a flying animal last week. We're total besties."

I narrow my eyes. I'd say it's hardly the time for sarcasm, but I also don't intend to dwell on it. She notices my belt and immediately begins thinking to herself. After a minute, I find myself growing frustrated with her staring and begin to walk in the opposite direction.

"Okay, fine. You don't have to be so sensitive about the outfit. I was just wondering what you carry in that thing."

Looking over my shoulder, I give another look.

"More to the point, I was wondering if you had something specific. Got any cigarettes on you?"

"I don't smoke."

She seems to be more taken aback by that than anything else.

"Jesus. No wonder you have problems."

Shaking my head, I continue on my path towards the other end of the building.

"We don't have time for this. What do you remember about what happened before?"

Jones rubs the back of her head, trying to think.

"Just... noise. Colors, really. Alot of reds and greens blurring into eachother. It was like everything was amplified to eleven. And there was a voice that I've never heard before..."

Suddenly, her face begins to lose it's color. She looks as if she's just triggered a rather traumatic memory.

"Fuck. Oh, fuck. Someone was in my head. No, that can't be. Christ, not again. This can't be happening again..."

I don't know what exactly she's referring to, but it could have something to do with those nine months that she went unaccounted for back in New York. ACE gives me another readout of the GCPD's current distance from the area. Minutes are possibly turning into seconds, depending on traffic and other variables. If I could stall them, somehow, I would. But the Batcycle isn't able to carry out a remote assault on it's own. Not to mention that it'd be torn to pieces if it did by an all-out escalation of gunfire.

"Jones. Focus. We have a situation."

Looking shell-shocked, she nevertheless looks back up at me and pushes whatever she's experiencing back into the recesses of her mind. I know that I'm risking alot in trusting this woman with what little I'm about to impart by itself, but I need her cooperation in order to ensure Zoe Lawton's safety. I can't trust the police to be able to attend to the child, but I'm also in no condition to protect her myself. Jones, however, possesses superhuman strength and inhuman durability. Not to mention flight, a fact of which I'm still trying to process.

"Long story short? Yes, you were taken under the control of a powerful metahuman. Calls herself Poison Ivy. I don't know where she is in Gotham, but she's a player in the underground drug trade. She attempted to use you to kill a young girl named Zoe Lawton."

Jones reacts to the name.

"Lawton... wait, the daughter of Michelle Torres?"

I give a nod, beginning to scale the wall ahead of me. If the GCPD swarm the area, they're likely to be looking for any sign that I was here. It'd be best for everyone if I made my exit sooner rather than later.

"You know her?"

"Not particularly, but I'm starting to remember. I was in the middle of trying to talk her out of leaving town. Her ex-husband is a contract killer. Some piece of shit called..."

"Floyd Lawton. I met him earlier tonight. As of a few minutes ago, he's in police custody."

Breathing a sigh of relief, Jones holds her palm to the front of her head, seemingly accepting the reality of the situation. It seems that she does at least care, despite my earlier reservations.

"Did I hurt anyone?"

"The girl? No. But her mother was rendered unconscious. Nothing serious, and an ambulance is on it's way. However..."

Just as I begin to speak, a set of loud sirens from the Gotham City Police suddenly echo out from all around us. Jones immediately makes her way to the windows and looks outside, looking somewhat panicked herself.

Dammit. We had even less time than I'd originally predicted.

"Shit. We need to go. We need to leave right now."

"I was going to say the same, but there's a bit of a complication."

She turns back to me, slightly insensed.

"You're not listening. I'm not like you and in the middle of waging some stupid vigilante crusade. I have a job and a personal life that I'd rather protect from the cops, and everything outside indicates that I'm a living weapon of mass fucking destruction."

I remain silent for a moment, just as the red and blue lights begin to bounce off of my face from outside of the building. While I was concerned with escaping the area for my own sake, Jones' status as a metahuman wasn't something that I'd previously considered. People like her are hunted regularly by government officials, and it'd undoubtedly take a very short amount of time under GCPD custody for an organization to take over. She could disappear overnight for something that wasn't even her fault.

Goddammit.

"I'll make you a deal."

Jones narrows her eyes, unsure of what I'm about to say. I'm not even entirely convinced of what I have in mind myself, but it seems as though that despite my history with the police, I have far less to lose than anyone caught in the middle of this situation.

"Go and get the girl. Take her someplace safe, wait a few days, and ensure that she's reunited with her mother. The cops in this city are on the take and I don't trust them with her. Do this for me and..."

She raises an eyebrow.

"And what?"

I sigh to myself.

This is likely to go down as the most idiotic plan I've ever had.

"I'll cover your escape."

CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

Ugh. Not super happy with that post, but I was having trouble with it and just had to get it out since I have two collaborations coming up in a row.

@HenryJonesJr

I think pretty much all of us are in the "Eeeh, that could've been better but what the hell, it's posted!" mindset with our own work in this game barring the occasional post we're actually proud of. And we've all just got to accept that roleplayers are a neurotic bunch who'll always be overly hard on themselves no matter what anyone says or likes about it. The important thing is, you posted.

Hell, that's all that's kept me going. I'm still writing my first arc and the season's a month and a half away from closing out. If I stopped to think about how much I wanted to accomplish this season but didn't, I'd curl into a ball and spend all my time lamenting what isn't instead of creating what is.

And I haven't even written a single sex scene. How the hell am I going to compete with Byrd and Wraith this late in the game?!

CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

My fiance's mom and sister are in town for wedding dress shopping so I've just sat down for the first time this weekend to work on a post. Have I missed anything important in the OOC?

@HenryJonesJr

Oh shit, you're getting hitched? Congrats! Hopefully your bride-to-be is able stand the amount of TMNT in her future.