Master Bruce

Ultimate One Universe: Resistance

@Courtaud, my apologies for not getting to it before now, it genuinely slipped my mind yesterday. But your application for John Constantine/Etrigan/Ghost Rider (that's a hell of a sentence) is hereby APPROVED.

Teen Titans: Secret Origins - A Re-Imagined DC Canon RP

_{Titans Together! #1.29}

Interaction(s): Green Lantern - @Hillan, Martian - @Half Pint

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"Let me check his mind."

The ache surging through his body aside, Robin almost couldn't believe how lucky they'd gotten in facing off against a metahuman as powerful as this. It had been far from the team's first rodeo, but they'd never encountered an opponent so heavily stacked against a mere third of them from the outset. Icicle Jr. had come in with the advantage of a surprise attack bolstering his apparent power-levels, and between the three of them - well, largely Rayner, if Dick was being honest - it had been a mercifully shorter fight than it could've been if it had been left to him and M'Gann alone. Hiding a slight smirk as it etched across his face, Robin placed a firm - but very much thankful - slap against the rejuvenating Lantern's shoulder. One thing that he'd consciously tried to avoid inheriting from his mentor was the inability to give proper credit where it was due.

"That was... insanely impressive. Nice going."

While it would have otherwise bothered him to know that the frostbitten Reddit-reject was taken down so quickly after Kyle entered the fray, Robin had witnessed his teammate's exertion of power firsthand. It couldn't have been easy to be flash-frozen, even for someone surging with enough juice to power an entire city in their chest. But Kyle had not only stepped up to free himself, he'd protected the two of them from a counter-attack and taken the creep down with a single punch. It was all enhanced by the abilities bestowed upon him, certainly, but Robin could tell that the feat had been pulled off entirely due to the man wielding them. That show of willpower earned his respect, even if the logistics of such downright magical cosmic enhancements were well beyond him.

"I'm not sure if he can drown, but I think it's best not to take any chances."

"Good call. I've got it from here."

Cracking his strained back with a stretch, Robin quietly compartmentalized the pain and strutted forward, his cape hiding the slight limp that it took just to move. He already dreaded the hours of icepack therapy and tea that awaited him when they returned to the Tower, but it was worth it to have reached an end that felt this victorious. Lantern had more than pulled his weight, and M'Gann - while still trying to find her footing in regards to approach - had done a hell of a job with the civilians. Not to mention her complimentary right hook after Icicle's second wind. Which had been a damn nice one, at that. Great form, too.

Careful there. Sounds like you're developing a schoolboy crush.

Pulling a spool of Bat-line out of his belt, Robin approached the unconscious Icicle as Martian gingerly drifted him to the ground. An attached Bird-a-rang at the end acted as a hook while the young vigilante bent down, quickly wrapping it around their enemy's body. Zig-zagging and tying a thick knot in crucial areas as he went, he remembered how he'd been put through enough drills in The Batcave as a kid to be able to parse the timing of this down to a few seconds.

Sure enough, by the time he rose, Robin stepped aside to reveal that Icicle Jr.'s arms and legs were bound tightly to his body. Even if he could try and get free, he'd find the special treatment in the line to be frost-resistant, given the many encounters with Mr. Freeze that line's creator had endured. Placing a loose strand of the cable into his grapple launcher, Robin aimed high at the sturdiest-looking overhead lamp and fired. The line soared through the air and collided neatly with the metal pole, breaking out into a few strands that all folded in on eachother until they appeared snug.

Grabbing the line still attached to Icicle Jr., Robin gave it a quick tug and stepped back. Lantern and Martian watched as the villain slid across the ground with increasing speed, until he finally rose into the air feet-first. The two of them had just witnessed the standard 'Gotham City Goodbye' when it came to similarly mannered scum: that is, dangling the receipient by a pole to be left for the police.

"Heh. Looks like Frosty's lost some magic from that ol' silk hat."

Placing two fingers to the side of his right ear, Robin tapped the two-way T-Communicator that lay within. Loren Jupiter had outfitted all of them with it, rightly taking such events into account. Now that they'd ensured civilian safety, put down the bad guy, and verified that there was no real way to interrogate him, per Martian's scan of his scattered memories, all that was left to do was for B-Team to check in on A-Team. Surely, they'd have made quick work of Cinderblock already. It was only Cinderblock, after all.

"Robin to Titans. Recon went a little south. But we bagged our baddie, and it doesn't look like there were any casualties."



"How's it going with yours?"

Ultimate One Universe: Resistance

@Terry Bogard Unfortunately, Dick's pretty integral to my story and plans with Batman. After all, you can't tell a story with all the Robins without the original. @webboysurf is right, though, there are plenty of characters who fit a similar bill to Nightwing specifically that are available.

Speaking of my posts, however, I should mention that I'm working on my next. It's just going slow because I'm writing in chunks.

Ultimate One Universe: Resistance

was Bobby taken/given to the Purifiers to be killed after Iron Patriot arrested him

@Retired

This'un.

Teen Titans: Secret Origins - A Re-Imagined DC Canon RP

@Master Bruce@Hillan I'm just finishing up my post now. Are we thinking Kyle finished off Icicle there? I'm happy to keep the fight going, but honestly I felt that was a pretty epic conclusion lol.

@Half Pint

I'm fine with that.

Ultimate One Universe: Resistance

DENIED on the basis of trying to appease @Sep. We don't do that here.

Teen Titans: Secret Origins - A Re-Imagined DC Canon RP

Not the most in-depth post ever written, but it's got us back into it.

Teen Titans: Secret Origins - A Re-Imagined DC Canon RP

_{Titans Together! #1.26}

Interaction(s): Green Lantern - @Hillan, Martian - @Half Pint

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"ENOUGH OF THIS!"

Revealing both palms and fingertips as illuminated by a pulsating energy, Icicle Jr. roared with a rage befitting a man who'd reached his limit. From the look of how his body was conducting billowing frost and ice that rose from his pores, it seemed as if the three Titans had pushed him hard enough to charge something within his powerset. It was as if his abilities were directly linked to his emotional state, tethered only by his mental instability. Clocking the incoming attack, Robin took an immediate defensive stance, raising his bo-staff infront of him like a shield. Nevertheless confident that he and M'Gann were ready for whatever the Victor Fries wannabe had in store.

But as Icicle's arms raised above his head and his hands clasped together, the intensity of the energy's glow seemed to be climbing fast - a circle of thick snow floated around him, steadily building into a torrential sheen. Robin's eyes widened as he realized that whatever this was, Icicle Jr.'s other ice attacks had paled in comparison. Just as he retracted the staff and reached into his belt for another grapple, Martian quickly flew ahead of him, forearms raised above her face in an attempt to shield herself and her teammates from the blast.

"Martian, don't---!"

Too late. In a flash of light, a tundra of frost exploded from Icicle's position and engulfed the area in a massive spiderweb pattern. The force of the blast tore into multiple fire hydrants and flash-froze the water into stilled geysers of ice, hit street lamps so hard that the metal whined and the glass of the bulbs shattered, and instantly flattened the sides of the remaining abandoned cars. Her trajectory compromised, Martian was thrown backwards - followed quickly by Robin himself - who noticed a distant green light that indicated the Green Lantern was still a few blocks away. Tumbling through the air, Robin took a deep breath and utilized his training as a gymnast to steady himself. The result wasn't as effective as he'd liked, but it was enough to get him to spot a nearby anchor point.

Alright, Grayson. Time for the hat trick.

Firing a line at the abandoned coffee shop's flagpole, The Teen Wonder used his thigh to knock himself off of a brick wall and redirect into a swing forward, feeling like he nearly dislocated the joint in the process. Ignoring the pain, Robin reached out and grabbed a still airborne Martian by the waist, locking his arm around her as the grapple went taut and allowed the two to fall to the sidewalk with considerably less momentum. Robin landed on his back, which hurt worse than the impact with the wall. But he surmised that they were both in better shape than if they'd been where they'd just stood. Martian had landed ontop of him, which just made his position all the more uncomfortable.

"Sorry, force of habit. I know you can fly."

Robin flashed her a pained grin as she rose to her feet, immediately dusting snow off her arms.

"Just never passed up an opportunity to rescue a pretty girl."

"THIS WAS NOT HOW THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO GO!"

Icicle Jr. could be seen in the distance, rising above a mountain of snow and ice. His expression was as impetuous as before. Robin sighed to himself, mumbling something about there being no rest for the wicked, before rolling onto his chest and pushing himself up. His body felt a little banged up, but his spirit was no less ready to keep up the fight.

"THAT SHOULD'VE PUT YOU BOTH ON ICE! HOW THE HELL ARE YOU NOT DEAD?! YOU'RE JUST A COUPLE OF FREAKIN' KIDS!"

Ultimate One Universe: Resistance

_{Location: Pauli's Diner - Grand Avenue, Gotham City, NJ}

Occupation #1.01: Desperate Measures

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"Sorry I'm late."

Over twenty years ago, two men would regularly come to the same spot on 40th and Gardner. One was an attorney, a well-learned Princeton graduate with more inherited wealth than he ever knew what to do with. The other was a cop, a veteran who had been sent home after two tours, forced to turn his talents over to the GCPD because he couldn't find better work. Through circumstances beyond their control, they had both found themselves trying to fight against a broken system that had transformed Gotham City into such a breeding ground of suffering and injustice that it made abandoning it a moral impossibility. But Thomas Wayne and James Gordon didn't become friends - after all, society deemed that the heir to a billion-dollar empire and a rookie officer from Chicago struggling to make ends meet could never fraternize. They would describe themselves as brothers, the only two that seemed to share dreams of a better future for a place that was largely considered hopeless. When faced with overt threats from those in power, Wayne would often utilize Gordon to dig up what he could and help to navigate the rough terrain of legal recourse. In exchange, when faced with his fellow officers trying to force him to take a bribe or look the other way, Gordon would call on Wayne to seek prosecution of those who would otherwise be let back loose on the streets. It was a two-person system that secretly rebelled against the tenants set by men like Carmine "The Roman" Falcone, the ones that stated such depravity was just the natural state of things, that none of the victims had the right to speak out.

In hindsight, it was almost inevitable that a random mugger would step out of the shadows and break the system. The city had a way of punishing those who tried to do the most good on its behalf, and both men had been arrogant enough to think they were untouchable - the ultimate sin in a place like Gotham. Detective Gordon had devoted years of his life trying to try and find a potential connection to any of the major families and the murder of Thomas and Martha Wayne, but it had all been wasted effort. No leads of a plot on anyone's part to keep Wayne and his wife from interfering any further. Gordon had even heard that when it came to Johnny Vitti, the informant that Thomas had pursued in turning over state's evidence on the entire syndicate, the murder had haunted him for years after - the sleepless nights only ending when one of Maroni's made men finally put a bullet in his skull over a territory dispute. If that hadn't been enough to convince the Detective that he was chasing shadows, the investigation into the death of an ex-con named Joseph "Joe Chill" Chilton had revealed his hand in things: in a suicide note, he revealed that he'd shot the Waynes for no other reason than to pawn Martha's pearls for heroin money.

Gordon had been relieved by the news. After all, the closure that he'd been looking for finally seemed imminent. But a few weeks after Chill's death, Gordon was approached by Thomas' son, a determined young law student-to-be named Bruce. He was about to receive the same inheritance that had left Thomas an unfocused mess in the best of times, and the eighteen-year-old had asked for the Detective's advice when it came to practicing law in Gotham like his father had. In that moment, all that Gordon saw infront of him was another chalk outline. Another body for some loved one to weep over, cast astray by Gotham's tradition of making examples out of anyone who sought to change the very soul of it. So Gordon did the only sensible thing he could think of: he talked Bruce out of it. Told him the truth of how the city worked, about every roadblock put infront of the cops and how its entire infrastructure had been compromised. About The Roman's Holiday Massacre of the 1930s, and how Falcone had risen above the Moxon, Thorne, Grissom, and Cobblepot families to establish himself as head of Gotham's underworld. He could see the fire extinguished in Bruce's eyes the longer that he spoke, but it was slowly replaced by something else - what that was, Gordon had never been able to describe. But it was like something had possessed the young man.

A week later, Wayne had vanished. Gordon went on with his life, hoping that he'd done the right thing in trying to scare him away from suffering in the same ill-fated crusade as Thomas did. A few years passed, and when news hit of Bruce Wayne's grand return, he seemed like an entirely different person. Buying a luxury penthouse in the heart of Gotham, Wayne seemed to find contentment in wild stunts and social media posts about lavish purchases, alcoholic brand deals, drunken selfies from parties aboard his yacht, and evidence of his latest relationships with one of a dozen supermodels and actresses. It was a glimpse into a world that Gordon could never understand, but it was at least as far away from the corruption of Gotham as one could get. For that much, at least, Jim would happily ignore the antics of his young friend's jackassery.

Until recently. As he makes his way through the entrance of Pauli's Diner out of the pouring rain, Bruce Wayne's expression is serious - though the state of his attire suggests otherwise. Despite it being nearly ten o'clock at night, he's dressed rather leisurely - his suit pressed, his silk shirt tucked, collar wide open. Shoes impeccably shined, a top-of-the-line silver watch glistening in the light above the restaurant's corner booth. And most curiously, his eyes were rendered invisible behind a pair of custom mirrored Bulgari sunglasses. Gordon would describe the look as far too extravagant for a corner diner in the middle of the East End, but he imagines that this was his friend's honest attempt at dressing down. With a slight hesitation, the Detective offers a handshake to the billionaire as he approaches.

"Stockholders' meeting ran late, and then the traffic. Oddly, it hasn't gotten any better since the government erected a big detention center in the middle of town."

Gordon scoffed, having gotten stuck in a line on his way here himself.

"Yeah, who'd have thought?"

The billionaire throws his drenched overcoat over his left arm and slides into the seat across, wasting no time in accepting a passing waitress' glass of complimentary ice water. Despite being able to afford the restaurant itself many times over, the Detective has a feeling that Wayne's order total would amount to half of his own. After all, as Bruce had complained many times before, the Diner didn't exactly have a wealth of vegan options. Having to hear about it again almost makes Gordon glad that he finished his BLT and fries before Wayne's arrival.

"Thanks for coming. I know that your schedule and my schedule don't exactly line up, these days, but I still wasn't entirely sure you'd show."

Bruce softly smiles, almost to himself more than to Jim. "What's eight months?"

"Has it really been that long? Christ."

Gordon folds his hands infront of him. Looking out the adjacent window, he let out an exasperated sigh. While the Detective isn't looking, Wayne quietly notices the bags forming under his friend's eyes, among other minor details. The way his fingers fidget even when resting, the color of his complexion indicates he hasn't seen the sun in about a month. The vaguely unkempt manner of his clothes, not to mention the odor coming off of them that would only indicate recurrent chain-smoking. It's obvious that Gordon had been knee-deep in the thick of it at the precinct for weeks, maybe even months. There was no telling how many hours of sleep he was getting each night, but Bruce knew that the answer lay somewhere between a few stolen minutes and an accidental hour, at best.

Their reunion had been needed for a long time. Nonchalantly, Bruce clears his throat.

"How's Barbara?"

"Fine. She's good. Working alot of late shifts at the Institute these days. Guess she was always bound to take after me in that respect."

Wayne nods. "She enjoys the work?"

"I can imagine. She always took to computers more than anything else, even over her studies. Her mother and I would worry about it, at least until she graduated with honors. But she's turned it into something tangible. That's all I could ask for."

A beat of silence. Gordon's eyes never leave the window, watching the people as they go by.

"You said it was important."

Gordon looks back at Bruce, visibly apologetic in getting lost in thought.

"Sorry. It's been a week. Got a heavy caseload, it's kept me preoccupied."

Bruce clasps his own hands together. "Of course."

With a pause, the Detective leans forward, the tone of his voice quieting.

"Look, I'll cut to the chase. Neither of us wants to be here. You know it aswell as I do, but I've been running into a real problem. One that I'm being turned away for by the usual channels."

His expression growing somber, Bruce's own voice softens. "The disappearances."

"Yes. Too many to count over the past few weeks. All around the same area, and I'll give you one guess as to where."

Wayne nods again, able to discern the location before Gordon can even elaborate. It had been all over the news during the first few weeks, then quietly faded into the background. Teenagers and their parents at first, then children, all taken in the night. Bruce had always been too late to catch it, the apparent perpetrators acting with precision. But he'd managed to construct a map of each of their home addresses and triangulate it with where each victim had last been seen. It all followed a straight line toward The Agency's checkpoint site, which had taken over the majority of Robinson Park. Wayne's fists clench, unable to prevent himself from thinking of what's being actively done to innocent people in the pursuit of weeding out potential metahumans. Humanity's war with "The Reach" may have ended, but its effects lingered all too well.

"None of the missing were over the age of sixty. Which should tell you something, considering that the new administration doesn't seem to think that damn bomb affected anyone older than sixty-five."

Bruce looks back, scanning the room to ensure that no one's paying attention to their conversation. When he's sure that they're in the clear, he continues. "There hasn't been any evidence it has. Lines up with geneticist's theories on mutation."

"We actually got documentation sent to us a few months ago, right after the election. Asking for cooperation in the detainment of suspected individuals. Offer spelled out individual pay, a benefits package. The works."

"And your department took it?"

"No, though not for lack of trying. Seems the dollar amount wasn't high enough for the Commissioner to spare anyone for what seemed like a losing prospect."

Gordon removes his glasses and begins to massage the bridge of his nose, flustered.

"They wanted us marching into The Narrows looking for kids who could bend spoons with their thoughts. How much do you think that's worth when overseeing a cocaine shipment could net someone a couple grand a night?"

Wayne tries not to immediately tense at the severity of that statement. Gordon had been a staunch opponent of the GCPD's flagrant ethics violations, but he was certainly as knowledgeable about what his fellow officers were really doing with their shifts as everyone else - Gotham's police had developed a hell of a reputation for the lengths they'd go to in lining their own pockets at the expense of justice. Wayne still isn't sure which are on the take and which Gordon has quietly managed to convert, but he's been building a file. And so far, it isn't very long.

"Jim... why are you coming to me with this?"

Gordon pauses. At first, he isn't sure of how to approach the subject. So he leans on the idea that came to him all of those years ago, when both of them were sitting at this same booth: complete and sobering honesty.

"Look, Bruce. I know the last time that we met, things went... the way they went. Words were exchanged. I'd understand if you kept your distance for a reason. I sure as hell wasn't about to reach out on my own accord."

Bruce looks away at that. Hearing the truth hurts to some degree, but it isn't entirely out of line.

"But I'm desperate. I've turned to every avenue I can to look further into it. There's just no one willing or able to go against that bastard Lord's executive orders. Dent's been trying to find a loophole and acquire a search and seizure warrant, but the courts have him gridlocked. And..."

"And at the end of the day, Harvey's still a politician."

"Yes. One whose career could easily be dismantled by asking the wrong questions."

Wayne folds his arms, leaning back in his seat. "I'm still not sure what you're..."

"Just this once. I'm asking you just this once as a favor for whatever I mean to you, or used to mean to you. I don't know. But I need you to do something about it."

With a sigh, Bruce looks down at the glass. Contemplative, if not a bit annoyed.

"Jim, it isn't as if I can just write a check and start making inquiries. I've been given a degree of influence, but even I'm not that well-connected. Lord's people aren't going to open their doors to me just because I belong to a different tax bracket."

Gordon's eyes narrow. "You're not serious."

"I'm just telling you the way it is. Believe me or don't, it doesn't change..."

"No, not that. You know damn well that's not what I'm talking about."

Bruce tries to break eye contact with the Detective, taking another drink of water, but Gordon leans even further ahead. The moment that both of them have dreaded for months finally rears its ugly head, and neither man is particularly eager to spell it out for eachother. But desperate times call for measures that no one in this city would prefer to entertain, much less a cop who has run out of options and an orphaned billionaire who spends his nights operating as a masked vigilante.

"Fine. Let me put it another way."



"I'm not asking Bruce Wayne."

Ultimate One Universe: Resistance

With that, I'm going ahead and saying that Scarlet Spider by @Roman is APPROVED!