Welcome back.
Seeing as we got cut short last time I am going to start off with the final update from Thread 12 and include the update I had planned for the day the site went down at the very end. So if you want to skip the 'recap' and get right to the new vote you can scroll to the bottom.
Past Threads: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Gotham%20City%20Beat%20Cop%20Quest
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"Kimble, toss me the shotgun. I'll pull guard while you head up first, then the Warden'll follow after you, then Hawthorne." You state confidently with a hand extended.
"You can't be serious, I-I'm handcuffed!" The warden shouts at the same time.
"Yer hands are in front of ya, quit whining." Hawthorne barks, shaking his head. Kimble, however, looks at you with a raised brow.
"You sure?"
"You've got the most experience. At least I'm guessing." You turn to the warden. "Which is exactly why you'll be following him. Anything goes wrong he's your best chance at getting saved and with Hawthorne right behind, I think you'll be shocked how easy it is to get up that ladder."
"And if you do anything slick you'll have a long time to regret it on the way down." Hawthorne growls.
The warden gulps quietly and nods his head. You accept the weapon from Kimble and toss the sling over your shoulders and get used to the weight of it. "Any quirks I should know about?"
"It's got slugs in the tube, so if you have to shoot.. y'know. Aim."
"I'll try." You state as you check your sight picture.
You all stand there, outlined in dim moonlight, dark silhouettes on the edge of Blackgate. Yourself on the edge of something, at least you have a lingering feeling you will be. You push that feeling and your thoughts on the mysterious vortex away as you take your place by the door, weapon in hand, and Hawthorne looses a gravely order.
"Get ready, Kimble. Don't let this softbody fall."
"Wouldn't dream of it." Kimble replies with a dry bite.
You hear the clatter but only allow it a brief glance as the aluminum rungs of the rope ladder drag across the rough roof. Kimble takes a few steps and hops up, grasping a high to mid-bar and ascending, the warden hesitates for a few seconds before you hear a dull thud and a hiss of pain.
"Move your ass." Hawthorne barks, followed by the haphazard scuffing of shoes and punctuated by a shrill exclamation as the warden manages to grab a bar and slowly begind to pull himself up.
"Running out of roof here, Kimble." Hawthorne shouts, you can't help but notice how much closer he is to you now than a few moments ago.
"Get.. the..fuck... UP!" Kimble spits through gritted teeth as his fingers close around Quinn's tie and he pulls with all his force.
The grinding bouncing sounds of metal on the roof are nearly right behind you as you hear Hawthorne's clomping feet leave the ground. You're about to pivot and join him when, beneath the clamor of your friends and the scraping of the ladder, you hear the faintest click as the door to the roof opens and you find yourself standing ten feet from a man in a faded orange jumpsuit and a purple beanie. Your eyes meet. He flicks his eyes over the ladder, no nearly beside you, as it scrapes by and Hawthorne works to make space for you.
"Goin somewhere?" The Inmate asks, almost casually.
You remain tense for a moment, you spot another huddled mass of orange behind him.. and another.. maybe even another. Your fingers ripple over the grip as the pad of your index finger caresses the trigger. But despite his casual nature you notice his eyes never leave your gun and he makes no attempt to move, hand still frozen on the knob. Every second you take the ladder is going further and further..
ROLL: 22
GOAL: 50
You feel a twinge in the base of your neck that sets your jaw. You need to focus. You exhale smoothly, angling your barrel to the side, and speak in a low tone as you slowly walk towards your retreating escape.
"Stand down, inmate." You say firmly.
You punctuate your sentence with a slug that strikes the brick sending a shower of dust and rubble spraying and, just as you hoped, the inmate holding the door flinches like anyone would. The door creaks as he curses and withdraws into the doorway. You take that chance. Breaking off into a sprint you head for the clattering bars bouncing across the rough roof every step rattling your body and causing a pulse of dull pain in your head. Another thudding step. Another pulse. Cold air tears at your throat and lungs as your eye twitches, the pain gathering, but you're so close.. as you lean down to grab the bar that's when a small trickle of crimson liquid pours off your face and thick splatters paint the back of your hand. Your fingers grip the rung, cold and rough, as you stumble trying to keep up as you're half dragged by the bloated airship.
"C'MON, MARK!" Hawthorne calls out, his hand extended as low as he can safely offer it as he sways wildly.
You're gasping now, every sputter sending a spray of blood that now flows freely from your nose and into your mouth.. Your lungs lock up. Your muscles burn. Your body screams as you feel like you've been hit with the worst stretch of a flu suddenly. Your feet feel clunky and obtuse. You struggle to even keep your focus as the edges of your vision go blurry.
"I ain't going out there, he almost fucking capped me!"
You glance over your shoulder in a panic, the rung slipping from your fingers, as you hear the inmate speak so closely you could have sworn he was right behind you. You glance forward again pressing your resistant body to comply as the ladder draws ever closer to the lip of the roof. You stumble after it half-bent over and dripping blood as another surge hits and you feel your knees go weak.
"STOP THE GODDAMN SHIP!" Hawthorne screams, his voice tearing through the night air, as he watches you struggle. "SOMETHING'S WRONG!"
You hear the squeak of that metal door open again and hear the clattering of shoes. Adrenaline surges and you feel like you have just enough energy to make a final attempt.. but as the tail end of the ladder begins to trail up over the ledge you hear the words you spoke to Dick echoed back to you. Is this risk worth it?
>You're getting off this roof, even if they have to drag you, just get a hold and wrap your arm. Let the ship do the rest.
>Spit out the blood. Ignore the pain. Sprint for that ladder and throw yourself into it, you just need to be close enough for Hawthorne to help you.
>This is over, if you miss that jump you're dead. At least this way you get to live. Let the prisoners take you.
>You're fucked. Your saving grace is that the inmates don't have any real fire power, you can't let them get any. Toss your weapons off the roof before they reach you.
>This isn't how it ends. You think of your mother and father. You think of your grandfather. You'll hold this roof, as long as it takes for them to get you out. You'll hold it. Turn it and fire.
>Write-In
>>6230479>You're getting off this roof, even if they have to drag you, just get a hold and wrap your arm. Let the ship do the rest.Welcome back! That was a hell of a cliffhanger.
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>>6230479Question boss.
Is the standard issue GCPD belt a standard buckle and pin or a quick release clasp like this.
>>6230479>You're getting off this roof, even if they have to drag you, just get a hold and wrap your arm. Let the ship do the rest.
>>6230479>You're getting off this roof, even if they have to drag you, just get a hold and wrap your arm. Let the ship do the rest.Wow QM actually incorporated the site shutdown tumor attack to Mark. We simply hold with all the strength and get pulled up with the ladder then?
>>6230479>>You're getting off this roof, even if they have to drag you, just get a hold and wrap your arm. Let the ship do the rest.
>>6230479>Spit out the blood. Ignore the pain. Sprint for that ladder and throw yourself into it, you just need to be close enough for Hawthorne to help you.The old boy is strong.
Welcome back, QM!
Roll was so bad, it took 4chan down and exploded mark's head.
>>6230483Hehe cliffhanger
>>6230479>This is over, if you miss that jump you're dead. At least this way you get to live. Let the prisoners take you.Obligatory contrarian prison Mark vote
>>6230483>>6230512>>6230590>>6230592...and 2 +1's
Locked in. Rolling for outside influences.
Sorry for not direct linking the +1's but apparently including all of them is 'spam' to the Robo-Jannie.
Rolled 73, 67, 11, 11, 93, 34 = 289 (6d100)
Rolling because the endless "Wait before making a post" function also stripped my dice.
>>6230479>>You're getting off this roof, even if they have to drag you, just get a hold and wrap your arm. Let the ship do the rest.>>write-inWe probably have a clip or clasp type belt. unhook and clasp it around the ladder so even if our hands fail, we have a failsafe.
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>>6231069>below average>double 11Should have stayed in prison, fuuuck
>>6231078Don't worry, we'll fall into the water. And there will just happen to be someone escaping via the water who will pull Mark out with himself. Whether he kidnaps him after or just wants to be nice is another question.
You don't even look back, you don't need too, you can feel them bearing down on you. Your fingers tighten around Kimble's shotgun as you jam the butt into the roof as a crutch to propel you forward. It's not pretty, you're a lumbering tripping mess leaking enough blood that each ragged breath expels a mist, but you feel yourself gripped by a focus stronger than anything you've felt in your short career so far.
"MARK!" Hawthorne calls.
You can see him inching down the ladder as the final rungs begin to clunk and vanish over the stone ledge of Blackgate prison. You grit your teeth and push your shaking legs to just carry you these last few steps and with a final burst of energy you stuff your arm between the bars and twist, clamping the cable and aluminum in the crease of your elbow as you feel your knees smash into the ground and your lower body scrape along the rooftop. You just pull tighter as the ship begins to drag you over the edge with the tail end of the ladder, your ribs hit the corner of the ledge but it just makes you tighten your grip letting the pain anchor you to reality, your legs begin to trail over but just before you're free you feel it. A harsh grip close around your ankle.
The same prisoner, eyes sharp and focused, holds your foot while planting his own against the ledge as he starts to lean back.
"You ain't going anywhere, porker." He growls.
You throw your free foot out trying to connect but only succeed in giving him a second leg to trap as he tucks your legs in the same fashion you cling to the ladder. You feel the rung grinding and pulling against your arm as it tries to break free from this opposing force.
"Let go already you bastard!" The inmate hollers as he leans further back, trying to pry you free.
You kick and twist and fight but whatever psychic force hit you has just left you too weak.. the recoil may knock you off but it's your only play as you try to line up the shotgun..
BANG.
An explosion erupts behind you, the acrid smell of gunpowder stinging your nose as you watch a dark stain bloom across the inmate's pale orange jumpsuit. His eyes go wide and the grip around your ankles disappears as he raises his hand to gently check the growing moisture. He spares you a final glance as he collapses to the rooftop. As his fellow inmates scramble back for the door and leave him to his fate you feel yourself yanked fully over the side, the ladder swinging wildly as you cling tight. Glancing up, you see Hawthorne hanging by one arm himself, a smoking pistol in his free hand and a look of pure focus etched onto his face. A look that quickly vanishes as he clambers down to you and grasps your collar in his massive fist and pulls you against him.
"Easy there, son. I got you." He mumbles. "Grab onto me, I need a hand free."
You clutch tightly at his uniform as he pulls your cuffs free from your belt and fastens one cuff to a bar before clasping the other around your duty belt. Then with a surprisingly light touch he pries your hand off him.
"I'm gonna get up there and we're gonna pull you up. Can you keep holding on till then?"
"Yes, sir.." You reply, hooking your legs through one of the few rungs beneath you.
Hawthorne gives your a firm nod and wastes no time clambering back up the ladder, leaving you alone and swaying in the night air. Shortly after he's gone you feel the ladder jerk upwards, a heave at a time, you slowly ascend. Looking back at the prison you see smoke pouring from the windows of the Warden's office and in the distance, like a pillar of shifting marble against the sheer black of night, the phenomenon enshrouding Arkham Asylum still reaches for the moon.. do they need your help? Can you even help in this state? As your vision begins to vignette and you feel your arm growing weak you start to hear the grunts of Hawthorne and Kimble hauling you up hand over fist.
The heated interior of the blimp feels divine as you're pulled free from the night air over the bay. Hawthorne and Kimble both drag your by your shoulders inside as you shiver and shudder, half from the cold and half from the pulsing hot fog in your head. Their voices come through muffled and slurred as you struggle to keep your eyes open, the relief from your rescue overriding the adrenaline.
"Mar- ..right?"
"Jesu.. ..st that's a lot of- ..id kit?"
You feel a gentle slapping on your cheek, it tingles with pins and needles, your vision smears and surges but Hawthorne's face comes into focus.
"C'mon kid, say something.."
Beneath his voice you hear another, lighter, feminine, and slightly unsettling voice whispering.
"Sleep Mark..."
"Mark, keep your eyes open for me. Kimble?"
"I'm fucking looking!"
The feminine voice returns, soothing and melodic.
"They will aid you.. only you can aid me.. sleep, son of Gotham. Sleep."
>Fight against the sleep, something is happening at Arkham and it doesn't feel good. Maybe this blimp could be more than an escape for just you?
>Fight against the sleep, do whatever you need to not fall asleep. Arkham is in good hands, you just need to weather whatever storm it's causing in your mind.
>Let yourself rest, you've done enough.. Batman and Constantine can handle themselves.
>Sleep. Follow the voice into whatever dream it may bring, maybe it can explain this splitting headache.
>Write-In
>>6231096>Fight against the sleep, something is happening at Arkham and it doesn't feel good. Maybe this blimp could be more than an escape for just you?RAGE AGAINST THE DYING OF THE LIGHT!!!
>>6231096Man, I really wanna have a fight with some cancer demon on the astral plane... Or some prophetic dream, whatever she's trying to give us
>>6231096>Fight against the sleep, something is happening at Arkham and it doesn't feel good. Maybe this blimp could be more than an escape for just you?
>>6231096>Fight against the sleep, something is happening at Arkham and it doesn't feel good. Maybe this blimp could be more than an escape for just you?
>>6231096>>Sleep. Follow the voice into whatever dream it may bring, maybe it can explain this splitting headache.
>>6231096>>Sleep. Follow the voice into whatever dream it may bring, maybe it can explain this splitting headache.
>>6231096>Fight against the sleep, something is happening at Arkham and it doesn't feel good. Maybe this blimp could be more than an escape for just you?
>>6231137>>6231191>>6231194>>6231230>>6231232Every light that gets through your squinted eyes is blown out with a ragged haloes surrounding it, sound reverberates and words hit you like white noise, but you don't go. You can't. You force yourself to feel the pain. To be anchored to reality. Slowly, the voice fades and you feel the pressure of Hawthorne's hand pressed firmly against your forehead as his words start to take shape again.
"He's burning up, no wounds I can see but his nose isn't letting up. I need gauze, Kimble. Fucking something."
A clattering muffles Kimble's voice in a distant corner of the ship, the motors propelling this massive vessel providing a comforting hum that underlies the chaos. You summon whatever strength you have to reach up and grasp Hawthorne's wrist in your clammy hand.
"Arkham.." You mumble.
"What? Mark, take it easy now. Kimble is-"
"Found it!" Kimble calls out, you hear his heavy footfalls as he rushes over.
"No.." You say again more forcefully. "Arkham.. we need to go to the Asylum. Something's wrong.."
"What's wrong is you're leaking like a busted pipe, now relax and-"
"No!" You swipe his arm away and open your eyes fully, glancing to Kimble now. "I saw something over Arkham, something only I can see, I don't know what it is but I know what's going on there."
"And what's goin on there?" Kimble asks quietly as he wraps a wad of gauze around his hand.
"Batman is there, dealing with whatever's been causing all sorts of trouble for me, for Dent, probably Wayne too. Something spiritual."
Hawthorne and Kimble share a worried glance.
"Spiritual.. like ghosts?" Hawthorne inquires.
"I don't know. I just know it was something that was.. messing with my shivers. The times it's been failing on me, the weird dreams, and maybe.. maybe it's connected to the tumor in my head."
Another shared glance, you try to sit up but all it brings are spots and stars.
"Easy, easy! Jesus Christ.." Hawthorne mumbles. "Whaddya think, Kimble?"
"He's never given me a reason not to trust him before. If he says Arkham is worth a fly-by.. then I say let's do it."
"Son of a bitch.. I was hoping you'd be the one to talk me out of going along with it."
"Getting soft in your old age?"
"Shut it. I listen to my gut.. and that's how I teach any boot that ends up with me." Hawthorne eases you into a sitting position. "And I've never seen someone's gut lead em into more shady shit than this kid."
You manage a smile that's quickly covered by the mass of gauze Kimble stuffs into your face as he hollers over his shoulder.
"We got a pit-stop to make, the Asylum, you up for it Raul?"
The pilot swivels in his chair, an old headset and a pair of yellow tinted glasses, he gives a big thumbs up.
"Any excuse to keep 'er in the air! I've wanted to fly this beast for years!"
"Good shit." He mumbles to himself as he tears a packet open with his teeth and deposits two pills into his hand. "Open. No water either, so don't be a pussy."
"Y'alright." You groan as you shift to a spot you can hold yourself up. "Thanks, both of you."
You grab the pills and waste no time throwing them in and biting down. The pills are bitter but thankfully the abundance of blood masks the taste and aids their delivery. You shudder slightly and tug at the rope ladder you're still locked to. Hawthorne leans down and unfastens the cuffs.
"So you said Arkham, but what's the plan when we get there?" He asks.
"Yeah, you were a bit vague saying 'something' but I'm guessing that's out of not knowing rather than being coy."
Now free from the ladder Kimble offers you a hand and helps you rise to your feet. You collapse into a passenger seat along the window and look out over the bay as the airship makes a wide turn to set a new course, you shake the fog from your own head and consider a plan of action..
>"Batman is in there, like I said. If things are going bad, we'd make a pretty handy get away for him. We should linger near the roof."
>"There's this... mist. It's gathering around the Asylum and reaching up into the air and I just have this.. feeling. I want to try my Shivers on it."
>"Batman is in there, so I doubt it's anything he can't handle... but still. We could go a little lower, maybe use the spotlights to get a glimpse inside? We can go from there."
>"Whatever is happening in there, I think I can help. Get us above and drop the ladder.. we go in."
>Write-In
>>6231707>"Batman is in there, like I said. If things are going bad, we'd make a pretty handy get away for him. We should linger near the roof."
>>6231707>"Batman is in there, like I said. If things are going bad, we'd make a pretty handy get away for him. We should linger near the roof."Lighting up the insides draws attention to us. Shivers on the mist is way worse based on what John said. Going actually into Arkham Asylum on this of all nights is borderline suicide. We stay topside and we stay ready to GTFO
>>6231707>"Batman is in there, like I said. If things are going bad, we'd make a pretty handy get away for him. We should linger near the roof."god Batman and John have got to be having one of their wildest night that said i am not going to run inside of Arkham hang out on the roofs to help both dip out sure
Fuck, I'm not here for a single update, and you guys skip the vision. God damn it, I bet we were gonna get an explanation from the dream lady. Well, whatever.
In other news Hawthorne is a machine, as always. Hits the shot on the bridge, hits the shot on the roof, backs up every Mark's fumble. Based old man.
>>6231707>"There's this... mist. It's gathering around the Asylum and reaching up into the air and I just have this.. feeling. I want to try my Shivers on it."I *assume* this is the second chance to watch the cutscene we skipped, graciosly provided by the QM. I say we take it?
And even if I'm misreading it, we still don't know shit, we don't know what kind of ritual John is doing in there, and how exactly is bat involved. We need info. And getting info is Mark's role in this adventuring party.
>>6231707>"There's this... mist. It's gathering around the Asylum and reaching up into the air and I just have this.. feeling. I want to try my Shivers on it.">>6231905Agreed. I'm guessing people assumed Mark would stay asleep the entire night and we'd miss out on whatever's happening in Arkham.
>>6231707>>"There's this... mist. It's gathering around the Asylum and reaching up into the air and I just have this.. feeling. I want to try my Shivers on it."
>>6231707>"There's this... mist. It's gathering around the Asylum and reaching up into the air and I just have this.. feeling. I want to try my Shivers on it.">>6231905I agree with your reasoning, anon.
>>6231742>>6231798>>6231827>>6231856"Batman is in there, like I said. If things are going bad don't you think we'd make a pretty handy escape?"
"Shit. Wouldn't be the first time either.." Hawthorne says, scratching his chin. "Raul! Get us close, try to hover around the roof if you can."
"I can do a pass-by or two but this thing isn't fueled to capacity. I gotta take her down before long."
Hawthorne glances to you and you nod.
"That'll do."
You take a moment to clear your head, a few breaths, slow clench and release of your hands to get the feeling back. Looking around the interior it's surprisingly spacious. A large table with a map of the city sits in the center, a few pin flags cover a route from City Hall to Miller Harbor to Old Gotham and back. Beneath the table you see a familiar form, now bound in a series of zip-ties, the warden stares blankly at the floor his eyes somewhere far away from this airship. For a moment you're tempted to look deeper but you won't. You can't. Not now at least. Lifting your eyes out the window you watch the pale curtain surrounding Arkham approach ever closer. Your gut churns like grinding rocks as a tickle moves up and down your arms like spider legs. You find yourself picturing that shadow when it all went read, the massive horns and it's unnatural body, surely a trick of the light.. You pull the wad of gauze from your face and set it aside as the headache actually seems to be fading, those old pills work faster than you thought. But still.. the voice may have faded but the temptation is still there. Not to sleep but to take another peek behind the curtain.
"You spacing out over there?" Kimble's voice jolts you.
"Huh? No, just thinking."
"Dangerous hobby." He says, dropping into the seat next to you. "By the way, thanks for keeping a hold of my girl."
"Your girl? The shotgun?"
"Not just any shotgun, custom job, a gift as a matter of fact."
"Yeah well, I wasn't about to lose it after I flipped your favorite car."
"Heh. Very smart." He trails off and you both sit in silence or a few seconds before he sighs. "Wanna tell me why you're staring out the window like you're expecting to see something?"
"Ah.. yeah I did promise huh?" You lean your head back and stare into the roof. "Only I can see it, but there's this pale.. mist. It's gathering around the asylum and reaching up into the air almost like a pillar or something. When we were on the roof.. just for a second it turned red and I saw this.. creature? I'm not even sure what it was entirely because I only saw the shadow but it was lanky and horned and it just made my skin crawl."
"Your Shivers ever let you see shit like that before? Demons and shit?"
"One case of it but it was recent. A magic house."
"Magic house?"
"Yeah."
He holds your stare for a few moments before shaking his head and chuckling.
"I'm so glad I'm normal.. no offense."
"Trust me, none taken." You murmur. "But.. I have this feeling."
"Now THAT'S a dangerous hobby. Especially for you." Kimble replies. "Whatever it is around here fried your head and made you two shades lighter with the blood you lost, but you still wanted to fly right up to it.."
You glance at him only for a moment, there's an accusation in his eyes but not a harsh one.
"My tumor. I said I'd gotten some help with it.. that help came from a guy I met through Batman."
"Through Bat-"
"It's a really long story, Kimble. Not to mention not that interesting, my ex was scouting me for the Justice League and I turned her down. My place is in the GCPD, but still I met Batman and he gave me a way to keep in touch in case I changed my mind."
"Not interesting my fucking ass, your ex is in the league?" Kimble hisses in a whisper shout.
"Focus. Batman introduced me to a magician, the real deal, and he did some sort of hocus pocus on my head and it kind of.. dampened my powers. At least until I learned to be able to fine tune how much of Shivers I let in.."
"Shit when was that?"
"Earlier.." You say sheepishly.
Kimble doesn't say anything for a moment and then he just begins to laugh to himself.
"Jesus Christ, you really don't have any brakes do you?" He shakes his head. "So the magic doc put your head back together and if he's in trouble you feel like you owe him?"
"You know how to dumb things down, don't you?" Hawthorne interjects, taking the other seat beside you.
"Of course, I used to work for the government."
"You still do, smart-ass." Hawthorne grunts before shifting his attention to you. "Kimble is right to be a little worried, in case you didn't realize it you're soaked in your own blood right now and it'd be worse if that scumbag had managed to pull you down."
"I know.. thank you, sir."
"Mhm."
"Though.. the closer we get. I do feel this sort of draw.. it's the opposite of the usual feeling, most of the time it's like small hands scratching at a door but now it feels like my brain is trying to swell. Seeing that mist go up into the sky just gives me this.. feeling. It makes me want to use my Shivers."
The two men share a long look between each other before a hand clasps either shoulder from each of them.
>>6231905>>6231918>>6232080>>6232085"Whatever you do, we'll back you." Kimble says firmly. "I trust you."
You glance to Hawthorne and he avoids your gaze with a shrug.
"I can talk one idiot down, but two of em is a job for Grey and I don't see him up here with us." His hand tightens on your shoulder. "You helped me to.."
Hawthorne trails off as he lifts his eyes to the bound Warden. You feel the grip go even tighter before he releases it with a low sigh.
"I owe you a few stupid decisions is all. Do what you gotta do, son. We'll watch over you."
You smile, feeling the blood flake and fall from your cheeks, and shift in your seat to give you a better look straight ahead. The white wall of fog growing larger and larger until it consumes the entirety of the windshield.
"We're about to go through it.." You whisper as you take a deep calming breath as the fog phases through the ship and advances upon you.
It's cold.. that's the first thing you notice. Like a mist from the bay in December, a light tingling all over your body. You look left and right for support but there's nothing.. no Kimble. No Hawthorne. No airship. You sit in the center of a swirling white mass that only occasionally darkens with passing shadows.
"I run blindly through the madhouse.." A voice echoes distantly, followed by a fleeting whisper. "I have no God.."
You blink but even the space behind your eyelids is white and pale.
"I’m afraid that when I walk through those asylum gates... when I walk into Arkham and the doors close behind me... it’ll be just like coming home.” Another voice booms out, this one slightly familiar.
You feel the fog creeping through every orifice and sinking into your skin, your throat, your eyes. It's everywhere. But nowhere. Just like you. Your head goes light and you try to hone your focus when that familiar twitching energy starts to flood through you. Every blood cell a living person, every breath a gust of wind between gothic buildings, and your nerves alternate between burning hot, freezing old, and anything in-between. That same feeling you felt the night you reached your hand into the main consciousness of this city.. it has everything. But can you handle that? Can the city handle your roughhousing? You take a breath and..
>Focus on the Asylum itself.>Focus on City Hall.>Focus on Blackgate.>Focus on Batman.>Focus on SIM.>Let go. Let Shivers use you as a conduit, mainline the city once again.>Write-InChoose Carefully.
Got a tie so I figure.. why not both? Not like the options were mutually exclusive anyways. Hope you guys enjoy what's coming up and I hope you enjoyed the slight narrative reward of just having two bros who really would go to bat for you, no matter what. The real Shivers were the friends you made along the way.
>>6232326Torn between focusing on the Asylum and letting go, but fuck it
>Let go. Let Shivers use you as a conduit, mainline the city once again.
>>6232326>Let go. Let Shivers use you as a conduit, mainline the city once again.Fuck it, we ball.
>>6232321>"Not interesting my fucking ass, your ex is in the league?" Kimble hisses in a whisper shout.Kek. Knows Batman, knows Dent, knows Constantine(arguably a bad thing), knows Q and Huntress, ex is in the League.
Mark is the best connected GCPD rookie ever.
>"I’m afraid that when I walk through those asylum gates... when I walk into Arkham and the doors close behind me... it’ll be just like coming home.” Another voice booms out, this one slightly familiar.Oh hey a serious house reference. Wonder who the first voice is. Hellblazer himself?
>>6232326City Hall is probably Dent tripping balls and bleeding, just like Mark on the roof. Batman is having a serious house on serious earth moment, no real need to see that one. Asylym or letting go then. I want to hear what the Lady wanted with us so badly, but I want the Asylum sitrep too.
>Focus on the Asylum itself.Fuck it
>>6232326>Let go. Let Shivers use you as a conduit, mainline the city once again.The Will of the City...
Not a single person here will get the reference. No one.
>>6232326>>Focus on Batman.
>>6232334>>6232367>>6232447You can't help yourself, something about this feeling pulls and tugs at the deepest strings in your chest until you smile and let it run through you like a bolt of lightning.
You open your mouth to scream out in some strange mix of pleasure and pain. A mix of fear and excitement. But all you do is inhale a rush of ice cold air that you feel travel down your chest and inflate your lungs. You force open your eyes and experience the smeared streaks of color flying by you as if you were falling face first into an oil painting. Your hands reach out blindly to break the fall but the various blobs and smears of texture and light dance around you as any sensation of weight vanishes. Then you blink.
You find yourself hovering here again. Like a low-hanging star above the peak of Wayne Tower. The moon is radiant and the dim spots of gray stare down at you like many eyes. You feel watched but not observed. You gulp and get the bitter aftertaste of black coffee.
"..haven't seen that fucking thing since I was in middle school, night must be taking a turn for the..." A gruff voice fades in before vanishing.
You twist to the sound and feel yourself moving through warm bathwater, the city lights flickering like a candle.
"...glad they gave you the night off, Tony. I can't help but get worried now when you.."
The back of a hand stroking your cheek as you fall.
"..don't think I'm getting off a beat anytime soon, sorry to..."
You grin and lay back, letting the sensations wash over you.. cold ocean spray, flecks of burning ash, a sharp breeze slipping beneath your collar. You tense all your muscles and roll your head back as you laugh, each one producing the pale smoke of a cigarette which slowly darkens until it's the thick billowing clouds of a house fire. You watch it trail off into the sky and fade against the radiance of the moonlight, far away in the center of it you think you see the smallest flicker of red. You know that should interest you, but right now.. it doesn't. You don't really feel.. anything. Anything except for ecstasy and a sense of true freedom underlined by connection with it all. You truly let yourself relax and Gotham runs through you, the water of the bay replacing your blood, your flesh dark stone and cobbled stones, your eyes the flickering and humming streetlights, and your heartbeat echoes like hundreds of feet against concrete.
You feel your feet touch earth and you open your eyes to an empty, swampish landscape, but you don't feel any confusion at the change of scenery only anticipation. Slowly the sky begins to turn, from night to dimmed day, carts. Horses. Men. Lumber and stone. Faster and faster it all comes. Scaffolding. Stone skeletons. Then faster again. Cars, steel and glass. Houses that tremble and rise like growing bone. Roads that flow and steam like hot blood. All of it moving faster and faster until it completely freezes before you.
You're afraid to move. To ruin this perfect moment. This stunning diorama. But you eventually need to breath, to release that first big gulp of air, and as you let it out the buildings, litter, and everything else floats away like stickers in the wind until you're in complete darkness. The air is heavy here, it smells of copper and mildew, you look up and see a tapestry of distant stars looking down on you. That's when you hear it.. a familiar ringtone. In the gloom, perfectly illuminated, is a buzzing phone. You wander to it and kneel down before resting your fingers on the smooth front and just letting the vibration travel up your arm as you slowly raise it and flip the top.
"Help me." A cherub like voice comes out, then with a giggle the line dies.
A fluttering behind you like pigeon wings draws your attention but when you look back the phone is gone and you're left holding a brass badge. Your own reflection sits in it, stoic and stern faced, you squeeze the badge and feel it's edges dig into your skin. You keep squeezing until it draws blood and you watch as it trickles down your wrist and forearms.
"What is this?" You whisper to yourself as you dab your fingertip against the flow and bring it to your lips.
Copper. Acid. Ash. Every punch, kick, and shove you'd experience goes by in a flash and the surge of pain drops you to a knee.
"What's happening.." You mumble as you clutch your chest. Your heart burns with a stabbing pain and every throb of the muscle brings a new face to mind:
Thump.
Your parents.
Thump.
Nonno..
Thump.
...
Your mind is a mess of windswept garbage and pigeon nests. You look around fruitlessly, where are you? What's going on?
You put a hand on your knee to rise and feel something crumble against your thigh. You dig into your pocket and pull free a folded photograph.. a young woman laughing. She seems so familiar to you but you can't pin down why seeing her face makes you sad. You try to unfold it but the paper sticks to itself with a fierce resilience. As you gear up for another attempt you hear that same ringtone, further off now. You glance up and can see a dim blue glow where it lies, the moment your attention diverts the photograph slips from your hand and settles nicely on the ground. She stares up at you. The phone buzzes once more.
>Unfold the Photograph.
>Answer the Call.
>Write-In (Unsure what you'd put here but I encourage you to get weird with it.)
>>6232889>Unfold the Photograph.No SIM, we are not having therapy tonight. Mark has been through enough.
Yeah, that's not helpful. I really don't wanna talk to SIM or about SIM, and I have no idea what the photo even is. That's why you don't go balls deep in gotham, goddamn it.
>>6232889>Write-In>Pick up the radio. It's on the belt. Maybe we could patch through to the Dream Lady or Hellblazer(if he's also tripping right now)?Listen man, soul searching is cool, but it's Halloween night and we're on the clock.
>>6232996+1 let's get interesting
>>6232996>>6233034>>6233051>>6233528You go to take a step but freeze. What are you doing here? None of this feels right.. You glance down and watch as the photograph curls and blackens on itself, a chemical bubble forming on the glossy surface, and in the distance the glow and buzz of the phone die out leaving you in complete darkness. You breathe out and watch your breathe mist and take abstract shape as it drifts away from you.
Then a crackling.. radio static? Radio static! Your hand shoots down to your waist and you feel the familiar weight of your duty belt wrapped around you. Your fingers trail in the pitch black until they wrap around the clunky box radio and you pull it free.
"Hello? Does anyone copy?" You whisper into the receiver as you hold the button.
You release and the click echoes through the emptiness surrounding you, the plastic creaking as you tighten your grip around it. Then it buzzes back with a low static.
"...rk? The bobby?" An accented voice rings out. "..he fuck are you doi..."
Recognition sparks. Then memory. Then it all floods back. The black plane around you fills in with grey inky blots of skyscrapers and apartment buildings as Gotham builds itself back around you, undetailed but still home.
"John?"
"I'm here, mate. Where are you?" His voice comes through clear now.
"I saw something.. weird going on at Arkham. Some kind of mist?"
"Bollocks." He spits. "You went into it didn't you?"
An inhuman screech pierces through the speaker.
"What the fuck was that!?"
No response for a few moments..
"John?"
It crackles, his voice is laced with exhaustion.
"Still 'ere lad, just dealing with our own issues.. the fog. Did you pass into it?"
"Yeah, I-"
"Thank fuck." He sighs. "You've done me a good turn, Mark. Sorry about this."
"Wait, sorry? About what, I don't know what's going on!"
"Shh. Quiet now." He whispers before carrying on in a hushed tone. "Knowledge is power in a situation like this, so let me clue you in. The thing looming around Arkham? A Tulpa."
"A what?"
"Lower your bloody voice." He hisses. "A Tulpa, thought made manifest. Usually never make it to the waking world, but mix it with whatever the history of this place is.. suffering and angry spirits. That's when it becomes a proper ballache, you and every other person in this city.. every time you call it 'she' or everytime you imply it has some sort of will of it's own you put a drop in it's bucket until it's full enough to drown you in it."
"Wait.. you're fighting the city? As in Gotham itself but like.. as a ghost?"
"Fighting is an interesting way a' puttin it, nothing physical works and it was a mean enough mother that I made a gamble."
"A gamble?" You whisper, your stomach tightening. "What kind of gamble?"
"The city isn't the only Tulpa around, just the only one that got active. But this place, full of nutters that all got put away by one person?"
"Batman.."
"Spot on." He chirps, you can hear him huffing with exertion as he speaks. "All that time he spent making himself a symbol, scaring the piss out of everyone, keeping himself mysterious and brooding.. left a lot of room for people to fill in the blanks themselves. Every person saved, every news story, every kneecap shattered. It all builds up like a raincloud."
"What did you do?"
"I made a thunderstorm. Infused him with the power of his own tulpa, but the bloody thing is rabid, it's sparring with your precious city but anytime either of them get a glimpse of me.. there."
"There?"
"Ash from a smudge doubles as a drawing utensil, enhances the runes , doesn't matter. Like I said, sorry about this, but you're pulling me out of a massive cock-up... just a few finishing touches."
"What are you doing!?"
No response. You begin to shake slightly as a pressure builds behind your eyes.
"John.. tell me what you're doing right now. I swear to God."
"Untwist your knickers, this is the type of thing you signed up for. Just relax and in a few minutes you'll be resting easy knowing Gotham is safe. I'm going to use your brain to overload this thing.."
"MY BRAIN?"
"Relax, you'll be fine. Probably, worse case is a short coma. Probably."
Your mouth flaps up and down but no sound comes out.
"John this is insane, you can't use my brain."
"I can and I will, when I put that little enchantment on you I put a nifty backdoor in your brain a way for me to slip in if the occasion ever called for it. And it 'as."
"You.. you did what?"
"I had a sneaking suspicion about the Tulpa, but I couldn't confirm anything without showing up, so I set up a contingency. Your brain is connected to every soul in Gotham, hell it's indirectly linked to the Tulpa itself, I channel all that into the cunt and it won't be able to hold it's form. Then I pull Bat one and Bat two apart and Bob's your uncle."
"You can't do that.. a fucking coma? John.."
"Sorry, lad. It's the only way, odds are you'll be fine in a bit of time."
"No John, fucking.. just NO! There has to be another option."
"Fuck's sake... look you seem a nice kid and all. But this is about more than just you, besides the alternative isn't pleasant."
"So there IS an alternative."
"Bloody wanker.." He mumbles. "Yes, TECHNICALLY. If I can catch the two nasties fighting then I can give ours an edge while using this sigil as a shield, but the moment he offs it I need to pry them apart without him tearing my face off. That's where you'd come in. "
"How?"
"You're talking to me through your mind, love. You're in a 'pocket space' and don't ask cause I'm not fuckin explaining it. But our connection is two way and spirits are easier to herd than you think, especially if it catches the scent of that same city it just finished mauling.."
"Catches the.. you'd send Batman's Tulpa here? To me?"
"Told you it wouldn't be pleasant. You'd be locked in the box with that thing until I could separate it from the Bat and make my way to you. Seeing as how there'd be a whole Asylum to search, I don't like the odds of getting to you before it does."
"I'm not inside the asylum."
"You said yo-"
"I passed through the fog but not on foot, we're above you in an airship."
A stunned laugh followed by a sigh.
"Sodding Gotham." He groans. "Are you actually asking me to consider that?"
>"It's better than ending up in a coma, or worse. Besides this place is basically a replica of the city at this point, I think I can manage to hide out until you get to me on the ship. Just.. try to hurry."
>"Shit.. No, I'm not. I don't want to end up in a coma but I'd rather be asleep than a corpse. Do what you gotta do, but you'll owe me."
>"There's always the third option where you stop being a coward and find a way to handle this without frying my brain or sicking a pissed off monster on me."
>Write-In
>>6233651>"Shit.. No, I'm not. I don't want to end up in a coma but I'd rather be asleep than a corpse. Do what you gotta do, but you'll owe me."If there were ever any leverage to fix the tumor, this would be it. Go big or go home (asleep)
Captcha: RNGAY
>>6232996For clarification:
The photograph is the folded one of Hawthorne and his Wife that you pocketed in the Warden's office last thread.
>>6233651>"Shit.. No, I'm not. I don't want to end up in a coma but I'd rather be asleep than a corpse. Do what you gotta do, but you'll owe me."
>>6233651>"Shit.. No, I'm not. I don't want to end up in a coma but I'd rather be asleep than a corpse. Do what you gotta do, but you'll owe me.">>6233655Damn, we missed another Hawthorn lore dump to talk to Constantine of all people?
>>6233651>"There's always the third option where you stop being a coward and find a way to handle this without frying my brain or sicking a pissed off monster on me.">"If I theoretically have to hide from this monster batman, how would that be? Can I control the city and hide, or he's going to turn into a massive monster like Godzilla and destroy everything?"There's always a third option, the thing is that Constantine wants to get squeaky clean from every situation at the expenses of others. Surely there's other shit he can do than just frying our brain or turning ourself into a Arkham games npc
And I think we have a chance to survive Batman's Tulpa, if we can control this mental landscape of Gotham, Mark could pull some Doctor Strange mirror dimension bullshit to escape. And as a last resort Mark could visualize himself as a younger kid version or himself and we would be left alone. After all, Batman still takes care of the innocent and the weak, right? That's part of his identity and as such the Tulpa, I would even suggest just Mark to look like some super cop, but with Batman also working against the corrupt police and politicians I'm sure the Tulpa would break out knees without thinking about it.
Also
>Try to contact the Red Lady We're in a deep connection to the city, and even if we're not technically sleeping... This whole shit is pretty much some mental realm, so I'm sure we can get into contact with her through the radio or some other connection, surely she can give us some help
>>6233651>"Shit.. No, I'm not. I don't want to end up in a coma but I'd rather be asleep than a corpse. Do what you gotta do, but you'll owe me."John's gonna owe us for this, right?
>>6233687Personally I'd rather Mark hear it from the man himself, biases and all
>>6233651>>"There's always the third option where you stop being a coward and find a way to handle this without frying my brain or sicking a pissed off monster on me."Constantine you piece of shit(yeah, that checks out)
>>6233652>>6233665>>6233687>>6233829You grit your teeth and clench your fist. The decision sitting squarely in your skull like a lead cube.
"Constantine you piece of shit..." You hiss through locked molars.
"I've heard that more than once, mate. Doesn't change the fact that this 'as to happen, am I sending the bogeyman to you then?"
"Shit.." You groan, the anger giving way to an anxious acceptance. "No, I'm not. I don't want to end up in a coma but I'd rather be asleep than a corpse."
"Good lad, knew all that brain swelling wasn't just for show."
"Do what you gotta do, but you'll owe me and I mean that. You'll fucking owe me majorly.."
"Cross me 'eart, I'll pay ya back. In any case you can probably expect tall, dark, and white-eyed to hold me to it."
"Whatever, just do it."
"Righto then, remember.. nothing personal."
As those words hit your ears every hair on your body stands on end, like needles embedded in cold damp flesh, you feel something *pop* inside your own head.
"Constanteam worts happenee.." Your speech comes out garbled and warped, your lips rebelling against your body.
There's no response from John as your brain becomes foggier and foggier, the machine that could calculate a crime scene starts to halt and screech as gears lock and chains fall off, a thick industrial smoke starts circling you. You turn to examine it but it flees, you spin and spin not even realizing the absurdity of this chase when your broken brain makes it's final connection.
It's coming from your ears. A furnace like heat behind your eyes flares and drops you to your knees as you claw and scratch at your temples, drawing blue blood that stains your fingernails. You try to call out to John, to Hawthorne, to your parents. But all that comes out are animalistic wails and throes as you feel flame licking your fingertips as the smoke gives way to an inferno that dances atop your scalp. The skin bubbling and bursting as streams of salty ocean water dribble down your face from the blisters.
Somewhere in the Asylum; John lies in wait in a charged sigil circle, as your screams reach a fever pitch he severs your psychic connection but not before muttering to himself:
"It can't 'urt you, lad. It's just your imagination.."
All alone, without even the voices in your head to keep you company, you drop from two knees to hands and feet until you eventually collapse into a sprawl as the fire spreads across your body and consumes you.
Whispers. Like the tips of a feather these whispers tickle your conscience and with this tickling comes.. sensation. You stir gently, your fingers twitch and contract as they pass through cool and fine white sand, your eyes flutter open and the darkness you were in before is now a flood of iridescent white. You groan and free a few grains that are stuck to your dry lips. Lifting your head you slowly turn your head side to side, the area is blank, only white sand dunes and a featureless white horizon greets you. That is until you spot the smallest dot of color, a vibrant red, far in the distance. Your arms shake as you push yourself up to a sitting position, your muscles all ache and complain with soreness but they do your bidding. You run a hand over your head and sigh in relief as you feel sweat soaked hair and not a field of blisters and scars.
“Fucking magic..” You groan as you wobble to your feet. “Bullshit..”
Standing up you stretch and take a moment to take stock. Your outfit changed; from your usual patrol attire to a simple grey sweatshirt and matching sweatpants. The sand works its way between your toes as you test out motion, your legs still not fully cooperative but still managing to make progress. Your eyes lock on that red dot from before as you trudge forward, the dunes creating a canyon almost that leads straight to the striking scarlet. As you move the whispers get louder, echoing off the tall sandy walls that flank you.
‘...ayor has been properly primed. Make the an…’
You flinch slightly, the voice more clear than usual, as you keep marching onwards.
‘..ts never fail! I’m insulted you’d even sug..”
The words are clearer but your focus waxes and wanes.
‘..vis, that wasn’t my intent. You know how much I value your contr…’
As you shake off that last fading whisper you see the bloom of color growing larger and larger until you can see the fine details… the candy red heels half buried. The glimpses of pale skin through tears and gaps in her dress. Her face bruised and tear streaked as she looks up at you.
“Son of Gotham...” She moans, extending a hand. “Don’t leave me...”
>Take her hand and help her up.
>Don't take her hand.
AND
>"What is this place? Did you make this? Like the pizza shop?"
>"What happened to me? I'm not dead, am I?"
>"Are you real? Or are you a tulpa or whatever, like at the Asylum?"
>"I need to get out of here, is there anything you can do?"
>Write-In
>>6235758>Take her hand and help her up.>"What happened to me? I'm not dead, am I?">"I need to get out of here, is there anything you can do?"
>>6235758>>Don't take her hand.no touchy le magic
>"What is this place? Did you make this? Like the pizza shop?">"I need to get out of here, is there anything you can do?"
>>6235758>Don't take her hand.>"Are you real? Or are you a tulpa or whatever, like at the Asylum?"
>>6235758>>Take her hand and help her up.It's a nice thing to do?
>>Write-In>What messed you up so badly?also
>"I need to get out of here, is there anything you can do?"I hate magic, I hate wizards and I hate Constantine. He better finish the job.
TheWoman
md5: 9b0258c88b17c71c6cdc415e9743fa12
🔍
>>6235799>>6235876>>6235905>>6236077>>6236168You lean down and grasp her slender hand, the flesh cold and unyielding, the sensation sends a ripple of goosebumps up your arm. She smiles weakly and struggles to stand, giving you a better view of her body. Torn dress, contusions, dirtied nails, and dried blood. Her raven hair is messy and tangled. Things consistent with self defense... or an attack.
"What messed you up so badly? You're usually more.. put together than this." You grunt as you manage to get her right-side up.
"I was not under my own control.. my body took a form I didn't know possible and then.." She trails off, her long fingers gently grazing each wound and bruise with a clinical tenderness. "I don't recall.. it's like I was something else entirely. I just remember the pain and then waking here."
"That's about how it went for me too." You reply, keeping your cards close to the vest for now. "I need to get out of here though, is there any way you can help me with that?"
"This place is my home. Our.. connection is so that you are able to enter it as well."
"Able to.. so you didn't BRING me here?"
"No, it was not me who brought you here. Your subconscious did."
"What?"
"It is the same phenomenon that allows me to commune with you during your sleep. When your mind is at rest, your guard naturally lowers, and then you find your way to me.."
"Wait, EVERY time so far has been me going to you? I thought you were summoning me or entering my mind. Something similar to Nia's power."
"We are entwined, son of Gotham. You are.. special. To me." Her words are slightly stilted as she examines the horizon. "Beyond that I don't know how it is you found me, but I'm glad you did."
She moves towards you with a swiftness that makes every muscle tense, especially in your gun hand, but she moves with suc ha grace and elegance that she's already wrapped her unnatural arms around your shoulders and bent to rest her head against the base of your neck. Her breath rolls across your skin like December mist and sends a violent shudder through your body, the reaction only seeming to encourage her to nestle more firmly against you. Her skin cold and smooth like porcelain.
"Before we've always been limited by the hours of your waking life, but I can sense it now.. you're free of that cord."
"Free of my cord? What's that mean?"
She angles her head so she speaks directly into your ear, the numbing cold of her breath tickling your eardrum.
"Time flows much differently here, Son of Gotham. What seemed like a short conversation instead was a full night of rest in your waking world, our conversations always cut short due to your need to wake. But I can tell now, you're no longer restrained."
Her words drive a nail of panic into your heart as you grab her shoulders and push her away. She gazes at you with a dazed look of confusion.
"Are you telling me I'm not waking up!?"
"What is wrong, son of Gotham? Why are you distressed?"
You release her and turn in place running your hands through your sweat soaked hair.
"No no no.. fucking.. fuckin Constantine!" You shout, kicking a small dune and sending a spray of sand through the air.
"You are.. upset." She states.
"No shit!" You reply, harsher than you intended. But she doesn't flinch, her face instead taking on an uncanny expression.
"But you are not in any danger here... I promise you. You have nothing to fear from me."
"That isn't what this is about.. I'M NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE." Your voice echoes over the sandy hills. "I WAS SUPPOSED TO WAKE UP, NOT BE STUCK IN A FUCKING DESERT."
"Why did you not say so sooner, son of Gotham?" She says, her face perking up into something resembling a smile.
With a delicate wave of her hand you see the endless white around you shift in hue until it's the purple hue of Gotham's night sky, ever so slightly tinged by the street lights despite their non-existence. She continues, waving her hands like a maestro as buildings rise from the sand and stars begin to blink into existence above you. With a final flourish you're bathed in pale moonlight as a full moon, impossibly large, emerges from the blackness directly above you. Your rage diminishes, slowly replaced by awe and no small portion of fear.
"There." She says with a rickety flourish. "Now you are home.."
You let out a shuddering breath as you take it all in. The city, exact and perfect.. too perfect. The mask of a memory, devoid of substance, cold and soulless. You clench your fists and then let them loosen.
"No.. this isn't my home. This isn't my life."
"You perplex me, son of Gotham.. if you do not want this what is it you do want? I am willing to give you anything."
"I want to go home." You blurt out. "I just... I want to go home. I want to see my parents, my friends, Allison.."
Her head tilts to an inhuman degree as she stares at you, her expression completely dropped now, your skin crawls and you feel as if you've made a terrible mistake. Until she rights herself and settles onto a park bench that materializes from scattered grains of sand.
"If this is what you truly desire..." She begins, speaking slow as if talking to a child. "Then I will assist you in returning to your waking life."
"Really? I.. uh.. thank you."
"Do not thank me. For there is something I wish in return."
"What?" You say, eyes narrowing.
"A conversation." She pats the bench next to her. "Speak with me like you did before.. not of leaving. Not of waking from this place. But about yourself.. like why you choose to live in a city that eats it's own young. How can you love a place that hates you for it."
"I don-"
"If you do not wish that then I can also answer questions for you.. About your waking life or about this place.." She pleads. "I promise you I will not take up much more of the time you have spent.."
"Time.." You repeat, mumbling to yourself as your fogged mind finally makes the pieces click with her earlier words. "You said that time moves differently here, right? How different?"
"In the time from your waking until now, I would say two waking days have passed. If you don't wish to miss more, you should sit and speak…" Her tone doesn't indicate it but you know a threat when you hear one. Or maybe you're just imaging the implication behind it all? Your head is still fuzzy but slowly your faculties are returning.
You set your jaw and consider your response...
>"Fuck that, if you know how to get me out of here then do it. I'm not going to throw more of my time away just because you're lonely and obsessed."
>"You're making it pretty clear I don't have a choice. We'll talk, but I'll remember this, how you act when push comes to shove.."
>"Fuck me.. it's already been two days? Fine.. yeah.. let's talk. Quick."
>"Please, I have people I need to get back to. Things to do in the waking world. You can’t keep me here, it’s wrong.”
>"I'm not gonna be threatened by a rogue dream or a tulpa or whatever the hell you are! I'll find a way out of here myself.."
Welcome to the 'White Room' as I put it in my notes. Been looking forward to this segment ever since you guys rolled up The Lady In Red back in thread 9. Hope you're enjoying it so far and as usual when I do the bigger updates I'd love to hear your thoughts on the events of your Shivers trip into Arkham and Mark's, sort of, Ego-Death moment he had. Much to consider and much to discuss I hope.
Also, I am working on something new outside of GCBC. I've been brought on as the Narrative Coordinator and Lead Writer for a pretty small game, time-frame is looking like it goes into the early part of next month. Looking at my itinerary and the workload I don't foresee any conflicts, so I'll try to maintain my update schedule for GCBC. If there are any changes to my availability for running the quest I'll make that clear not only in the thread but also in the discord and in QTG with a clear return date (It would be June 10th worst-case) But let's pray that doesn't happen. Until the next update, I'll see you soon.
>>6236426>"Fuck me.. it's already been two days? Fine.. yeah.. let's talk. Quick."
>>6236423>"Fuck me.. it's already been two days? Fine.. yeah.. let's talk. Quick."So from what I'm guessing she's not your average spirit thing.
>>6236426>"Fuck me.. it's already been two days? Fine.. yeah.. let's talk. Quick."She needs to understand that we have to act in the waking world to do our job. What she likes us doing, the whole cop son of Gotham thing, that's only because we're awake to do it and be that.
>>6236426>>"Fuck me.. it's already been two days? Fine.. yeah.. let's talk. Quick."
>>6236426>"Fuck me.. it's already been two days? Fine.. yeah.. let's talk. Quick."god does Batman and John owe us
>>6236426>"Fuck me.. it's already been two days? Fine.. yeah.. let's talk. Quick.""I've got a friend who lost his father before I came here, and he needs someone to talk to as well..."
You guys think we should use our favor to Let Caesar and his family say goodbye to Valentine, or is talking to the dead too risky to try it in the DC universe?
>>6236487I think she may be the New Gods' artefact or something similar, manifetsing the Gotham Tulpa which Batman and Constantine were fighting.
The dream demon gotham spirit is lonely. Kind of cute, despite the hostaging thing. She'd be less lonenly if she didn't live on x1000 time scale I reckon. Maybe she can be slowed down a bit, so she can have normal conversations with dreamers without elapsing entire days in minutes.
>>6236426>Sure, let's talk"Why you choose to live in a city that eats it's own young. How can you love a place that hates you for it?"
>By this point I'm pretty sure it's an ego thing. That's why I always stick my nose into everything around here: the Mayor, the Bat, the prison, the latest shadow demon debacle in Arkham. Somehow I have decided that it's *all* on me, and "I can fix her", as in Gotham, even a little bit. And now I'm in a coma. Could have seen that coming.
>>6236825Mark really IS a fixer, isn't he?
>>6236825Yeah, that seems to be a fairly accurate assessment of Mark.
>>6236450>>6236487>>6236488Your fists clench.
"Fuck me... it's already been two days?" You voice is small, truth be told you feel small in the face of.. whatever this woman is. "Fine.. yeah.. let's talk. Quick."
You drop onto the bench urgently, your knee bouncing slightly as you stare at the floor feeling every second that slips past. You glance at the red lady and she simply stares back at you, her face blank and eyes distant. You clear your throat.
"You wanted to talk. So go ahead."
"I already asked you a question.."
"About why I stay in the city? Why I help people?"
She nods slowly.
"Honestly.." You start, leaning back and then letting out a frustrated sigh. Might as well just bare it all, get this chat over with. "It might be an ego thing by this point.."
"Ego?"
"Yeah. Somewhere along the line I just... bit off too much. But I didn't even stop then, I kept chewing and sticking my nose into everything in town because.." You trail off, just letting stream of consciousness lead your words. "Because I have it in my head that it's on me. All of it. I can literally talk to the city, who else is in a position to fix it like I am?"
"You hold yourself.. responsible? For such a large area such an idea seems illogical."
You let out a bitter scoff.
"Definitely. But I can't help it, just having it in the back of my head all the time. There's more bad than good, but I can still hear the good. The good people. The good things."
"Do you regret it?"
"I'm in a coma. So."
She just stares at you, waiting. You sigh.
"No." You answer simply.
"Hmm.." She hums lightly, her eyes turning skyward. She extends a finger and drags it down. "Tell me about the scarred man."
"Scarred? I don't know anyone I'd call 'scarred' exactly."
She frowns and repeats her strange gesture before swiping her finger to the side.
"What are yo-" Your words stop as you look up and see pillars of white carved into the very sky itself. A set of tally marks.
"This symbol. What does it mean?"
"It's... it's a way to count. Each line equals one, the slash through means it's a group of five."
"Hm." She hums again, shorter this time. "He is odd, not at all like you. Yet still a son of Gotham."
"Huh!? I thought I was the Son of Gotham?"
"Many children have siblings, Mark. Be not jealous, you are still special to me."
"Siblings? Plural? How many 'children' does Gotham have?"
"Many.." She whispers, her voice taking on a tone of almost awe. "Near everyone born inside of it has their life... touched. But over the years the exemplary fall away and more and more average children are birthed. I only concern myself with the exemplary."
"Like.. Batman?"
"He is one. Yes. The eldest son of this particular brood."
"Then.. if you have eyes on people like Batman and SIM, why the hell are you obsessed with me?"
"You are among five exemplary, the other four are common in a way you are not. All of them are men with two faces."
>>6237002>>6236602>>6236637>>6236690"Two faces?" You mumble to yourself as your brain works to decipher her off-speech. "You mean... like how Batman's identity is hidden, and SIM was moonlighting as a serial killer while he was supposed to be a Button Man for the mob only.. then who are the other two?"
"I cannot say.. though one of them I hold in equal standard to you. Alas, he has taken flight from the city and so I cannot reach him. It was with his departure I turned my eyes on you.." She turns to face you now, forcing eye contact. "You... the shield. Gleaming. The face reflected in it's polish being your own, you wear your skin with pride. You bear your name with honor. You hold yourself in the light of a city that has shown itself preferential to darkness... you are... an aberration. This is why you interest me so."
Her hands creep onto your lap, sliding like two pads of ice until she grasps your hands tightly.
"You are the youngest son... but I think you may grow in time."
You swallow a lump and grip her hands back.
"Speaking of time... I'd really like to get back. The things I do that interest you so much? The change I want for Gotham? It only happens if I'm awake. Out there. Do you understand?" You speak gently, like a parent negotiation with a child.
Her icy fingers tighten their grip until you feel the bones of your hands rubbing but you don't let it show on your face. You hold the stare into her eyes and squeeze back.
"Please." You whisper earnestly. "My friend lost his father tonight... he's going to need someone to talk to. I promised to be there for him."
Her grip diminishes and she leans back with a tight frown.
"Yes.. I understand, son of Gotham. I suppose I just wanted to savor this time I had with you, as such I will only make a single request more of you."
"That wasn-"
A dot of cold on your lips stops your speaking, her finger pressing firmly.
"I wish you to ask me a question as before, only this time I won't limit you to only the souls you've touched. Ask one thing. Anything. Give me more insight into the man who will grow from this child of Gotham."
She gently pulls her finger away and waits patiently for you to collect your thoughts.
>"Here's a question. Can I go home now?">"Tell me about Kal Quincy Late, I believe he's behind a plan that could hurt Gotham. I need to know anything you can tell me.">"You mentioned him once.. and I can't deny that I've always been curious... who is The Batman?">"You mentioned that SIM wore two faces, even now when he's been operating alone you still call him two-faced? Why? What do you know about SIM?">"What are you? And I don't want a cryptic answer, something I can understand. I need to know.">"My tumor. I need to know how to fix it, I need to know IF I can fix it.">"The Tulpa in Arkham, is it going to be an issue again or did John and Batman manage to stop it?">"How do I tell Caesar about his dad?">Write-In (Encouraged)
>>6237009>"What are you? And I don't want a cryptic answer, something I can understand. I need to know."
>>6237009>"What are you? And I don't want a cryptic answer, something I can understand. I need to know.">"Tell me about Kal Quincy Late, I believe he's behind a plan that could hurt Gotham. I need to know anything you can tell me."
Gonna leave this one up a little longer to let people get more votes in, expect a later update.
>>6237409I mean it's 6 more hours until usual update time
>>6237009>"What are you? And I don't want a cryptic answer, something I can understand. I need to know.">"My tumor. I need to know how to fix it, I need to know IF I can fix it."
>>6237009>My friend lost his father tonightmore like days ago
>>"You mentioned him once.. and I can't deny that I've always been curious... who is The Batman?"That's such a waste of a question I can't NOT do it
Wonder who's that other guy who left
>>6237410I know, it's a heads up because I won't be available until after usual update time, figure it's better to just toss it out now. Also bumps the thread if it's on 'Last Reply' for people, so.
>>6237410Don't have a ton of time.
Got fucked over at work. Update tonight, early. Apologies.
>>6237682No need for apologies.
>>6237682>provides free labor for over a year>apologizes for missing one updateQM’s are some of the most humble people I’ve seen on the internet. We appreciate anything you can give us.
>>6237009Either of these
>>6237417 are good, but if we can only pick one
>"My tumor. I need to know how to fix it, I need to know IF I can fix it.">>6236426Oh, and btw congrats on the game gig!
>>6237046>>6237157>>6237417>>6237499"You. What are you?"
She opens her mouth but you cut her off with a hand.
"And nothing cryptic, something I can understand. I need to know."
"I see.." Her thin lips fold into a tight frown. "To be perfectly honest, son of Gotham, I do not know what I am."
"What? How is that possible?"
"Your kind. Humans. You're blessed with the knowledge of your origins, it's another reason I watch from afar, my earliest memories are... cracked black stone and an intense heat. It was dry, suffocating, and I wished to be anywhere but there." She lifts her arms. "That's when I appeared here, I watched the Fathers of Gotham create a wonder from nothing, I shaped myself after the ones they adored.."
Her hand runs smoothly down her dress, hand lingering on the tear that reveals her pale leg, she smiles again. This one the most human expression you've seen from her; bittersweet memories.
"I suppose the simplest way to put it would be that I am Gotham. That Gotham is me. I've watched it so long and spent so much time with it that I think I've... bonded to it. In a way. Like a mother with a child."
"You're Gotham, but not literally?"
"I'd tell you if I knew, son of Gotham."
Above you both the clock tower chimes, it's echo causes stray gains of sand on the bench to jump and rattle, she looks back to you and smiles.
"You've asked your question."
"Wait!" You hold up a hand, a sudden thought launching to the front of your mind. "My tumor. I need to know how to fix it, I need to know IF I can fix it."
She only smiles and laces her fingers between yours.
Then you blink.
...dull aching. Every gulp feels like your throat trying to swallow itself, your eyes flicker and light sears your retinas, you go to block the offending sensation but feel your hand caught in interlocked fingers.
"Eugh.." You manage to grunt.
"NURSE!" A familiar voice bellows.
Your vision swims and smears as you try to sit up, your body trembles with the effort and you feel a firm hand on your chest press you back down.
"Not happening."
Your vision clears up slightly and you see Allison staring down at you, dark circles under her eyes and a radiant smile. You squeeze her hand tightly and open your mouth to talk but only a wheeze comes out.
"Don't talk, you need to work up to it. Here." She frees herself and pulls a cup of water near you.
You sip greedily and settle your head back into the pillow and smile.
"I'm so glad to see you.." You wheeze.
"Not as happy as I am.."
====
A short exam later and you're cleared to at least start bringing in visitors, but with the amount limited the only question now is who?
>Hawthorne and Kimble, you need to know what went down after you passed out.>Your parents, they have to be panicked right now.>Gordon, he's the only man you know who could tell you Batman's status.>Just keep Allison here, take some time to take stock of yourself before talking to anyone.>Write-In
>>6238007>Just keep Allison here, take some time to take stock of yourself before talking to anyone.Easy now.
>>6238007>>Your parents, they have to be panicked right now.>Write-inAnd introduce Allison to them
>>6238007>Your parents, they have to be panicked right now.Aw fuck, they already met Allison while we were out, didn't they?
>>6238007>Hawthorne and Kimble, you need to know what went down after you passed out.
>>6238007>Your parents, they have to be panicked right now.>”Did you already meet my parents while I was out?”
>>6238013Oh right, kek.
>>6238010>>6238007Changing my vote to
>Your parents, they have to be panicked right now.
>>6238012>>6238013>>6238017"Can you call my folks?" You ask the Nurse with a strained voice. "They've gotta be freaking out."
"I can do it." Allison chimes in, pulling her phone from her front pocket.
"What? How do you.." You trail off, putting together the obvious. "You've already met them haven't you?"
"Yup. Your mom is such a sweetheart."
"Oh god.." You groan. "How was she?"
Allison puts the phone to her ear and gives you a bit of a look.
"She was... doing her best."
"Yeah.. she doesn't do well with anything hospi-" You're cut off by a jutting finger. She nods once or twice and then smiles.
"Well tell her I've got good news. He's awake and asking for you guys."
She nods a few more times, you hear the bass of your Father's booming voice from bed.
"Great! I'll let him know."
She hangs up and looks to you.
"He said they're bringing the cannoli?"
You let out a snort of laughter and settle back into your pillow as Allison draws delicate circles on the back of your hand.
====
"OH MARKY!" Your mother wails no less than three steps into your room.
You groan in pain as your fragile body is wrapped in a vice like hug while your mom's tear soaked face soaks into your sweatshirt.
"Agh! Ah.. go easy, Ma.."
She leans back sniffling, Allison rubbing her back.
"Are you okay?"
"Yes, Ma. I'm fine now, I promise." You assure her, gently pushing her back to stand next to your bed.
"Give the boy some space." Your father grunts, stepping past them with a long ceramic pan in his hands. "Matter of fact, give me some space to put this down."
Allison takes it off his hands and sets it aside as your father steps closer and offers a calloused hand.
"You alright?"
"Yes, sir." You tell him giving your best squeeze.
"Alright then." He replies simply, but you see the moisture building on his lower lid before he leans down for a brief but firm hug.
"Glad you guys are here.." You mutter, shifting slightly to give your mom more space to sit near the foot of this narrow bed.
"Is everything okay here? Are they feeding you enough?" Your mom asks, hand resting on your shin.
"I just woke up, Ma. I'm sure the food is fine right?" You glance to Allison who is shaking her head slowly.
"I'll make you some things.." You mom assures with a pat.
"Ma that's really not-"
"I'm with your mother on this one, buddy." Your father adds.
"You were so sweet to think of us on Halloween anyways, I wanna pay you back." Your mom concludes.
"What'd you say?"
"I said you were sweet to think of us on Halloween."
You blink a few times, hoping for this brain fog to clear or maybe some piece to click but you're lost.
"I don't know what you mean, Ma. What did I do?"
"You had that friend of your from the department come over and check on us." Your dad offers up. "Kind of a string-bean but nice enough kid. Shame about his condition."
Your confusion turns to dread as your brow furrows and your brain cranks restlessly.
>>6238107>>6238147>>6238417"I didn't send anyone..." A sudden surge of energy has you sitting up in your bed. "Tell me about this guy, was he in uniform?"
"I'm not an idiot, Mark. He had the uniform and all the fixings, came in a cruiser, and he even knew some stuff only you could have told him."
"Like what?"
"That fight you got in when you were a kid, the one when your Nonno took you out for ice cream after. He knew your Mom's favorite record. Mark, he said you'd asked him to come out. Said you were worried about something happening since it was Halloween? He ended up leaving cause he just started a crazy nosebleed, we didn't even get a chance to send him home with some ziti."
"What was his name?" You ask quietly.
"Honey, what's going on?" Your mom asks in a shaky whisper.
"What was his name, Dad. Please tell me you remember."
"I remember it, Victor Rogers. always thought it was weird having two first names like that."
Your blood goes cold, your heart hammers in your ears, and your muscles tighten reawakening the dull pain from earlier. Your vision is stuck on a far wall as you run through it all. Every conversation, facial expression, every single off-comment, and gut instinct. The memory of the pure terror that you felt within the vision beneath the bed.
"Mark?" Your mom whispers.
Your father, sensing something wrong, offers her a comforting hand on her shoulder. The entire time Allison watches you with her own growing sense of unease.
"He's got his thinking face on, honey. Give him a second.."
"Allison, I need my phone." You mutter, one foot still in your own head. "I love you guys, but I need you to wait in the lobby for a little bit. Do not go home."
Your dad's face goes hard as you make eye contact. Nothing needs to be said, he simply nods his head and leans down to help your mom stand.
"C'mon, let's let Mark make a few phone calls."
"But.. Mark, what's wrong?"
"He'll fill us in later, come on." He urges gently, giving you a final look over his shoulder with only a glimmer of concern.
Allison puts the phone into your hand and shifts from foot to foot.
"Think maybe you could fill me in now?"
"The SIM Killer, the guy who's been in the news. I've been looking into him.."
"Oh no.."
"I think he was trying to send me a message..."
"What kind of message?" She asks meekly.
"I don't know.."
Your phone flickers to life and you find your fingers taking you to...
>Question and Huntress, Rogers crossed a line when he involved your family. If he had done anything to them... you won't give him the chance.>Hawthorne and Gray, this is still an active investigation so protocol would have you inform your superior officer and the lead Detective on the SIM case. Thankfully you have both their numbers.>SIM's Burner, the old number is burned into your memory. If he wants to talk so bad then you'll be the one to reach out. Take control, meet on your terms.>Write-In
We gotta kill him. Not even half light speaking, we just gotta. Only one way it ends.
>>6239984>>SIM's Burner, the old number is burned into your memory. If he wants to talk so bad then you'll be the one to reach out. Take control, meet on your terms.
>>6239984>SIM's Burner, the old number is burned into your memory. If he wants to talk so bad then you'll be the one to reach out. Take control, meet on your termsSet up a meeting, then call Q and Huntress to get them on overwatch.
>>6239984>SIM's Burner, the old number is burned into your memory. If he wants to talk so bad then you'll be the one to reach out. Take control, meet on your terms
>>6239985I don't know how Mark feels with all his suspicions being correct from day 1. This is a win for is, but is it truly a victory? The hollow feeling is one not easily escaped now. Not with a giant loose end doing this
>>6240024If Mark wasn't such a boyscout I'd suggest we pull up to meet and greet the guy and immediately shoot him in the face. Though he'd probably see it coming.
>>6239984>SIM's Burner, the old number is burned into your memory. If he wants to talk so bad then you'll be the one to reach out. Take control, meet on your terms.>>6240124He'd feel our murderous intent, yeah.
>>6239984This shit is not very Esprit de Corps of you, SIM...
>>6239984>>Hawthorne and Gray, this is still an active investigation so protocol would have you inform your superior officer and the lead Detective on the SIM case. Thankfully you have both their numbers.We do have a formal investigation ongoing with our superiors, we should get our instructors involved.
>>6239984>>Hawthorne and Gray, this is still an active investigation so protocol would have you inform your superior officer and the lead Detective on the SIM case. Thankfully you have both their numbers.
Knowing Vic, he really did just want to make sure our parents were okay, but went about it in the most suspicious manner possible.
>>6239984>>Hawthorne and Gray, this is still an active investigation so protocol would have you inform your superior officer and the lead Detective on the SIM case. Thankfully you have both their numbers.Oh uh, yeah before I forget. We can't really justify doing anything outside of the bounds of our position just yet.
>>6239984>Hawthorne and Gray, this is still an active investigation so protocol would have you inform your superior officer and the lead Detective on the SIM case. Thankfully you have both their numbers.
>>6239984>>Hawthorne and Gray, this is still an active investigation so protocol would have you inform your superior officer and the lead Detective on the SIM case. Thankfully you have both their numbers.
>>6239993>>6240000>>6240023>>6240349"I need my uniform.. did they give that to you?" You mumble, a sudden thought striking you through the haze of fear and anger.
"Uh no... it had a lot of blood on it. But they put everything from your pockets in a bag." She speaks as she returns to the table.
"There should be a recorder in there, old school one. Hand it to me."
"Okay? What for?"
"Insurance..."
It's hard to punch in the numbers with your trembling hand but you manage it, The trill of the line ringing is a background track to the rhythm of your own thunderous heartbeat echoing in your skull. A light hand touches your shoulder and you respond with an instinctual glare that carries a predatory anger with it. You soften your face when you see the silver recorder held in her hand.
"Than-" Your words die mid-air as the call connects.
Silence.
You close your mouth and grind molar against molar. Just listening as you turn the phone to speaker and click on the recorder.
"You're awake." The familiar Cherub voice rings out.
"Turn off the voice changer, Rogers. I know."
Another elongated silence until...
"I figured I'd overplayed my hand. Though I didn't expect you to be so quick to contact me again, honestly makes me glad I set up call forwarding." He speaks almost casually. It makes you sick.
"What the fuck were you doing at my parents? If you ever-"
"Calm down, Mark." He says sharply. "To be perfectly honest I wanted to speak with you and figured drastic means would be necessary on a night like Halloween. I had to assume after all, with our shared gift, that a Mother's anguish would be felt no matter how far away and busy you were. I was proven right too..."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You aren't at all curious about how I knew you were in a coma? Mark... your temper clouds your logic y'know?"
"Go fuck yourself."
He giggles to himself and you hear the phone crackle as he shifts into a more serious, clinical tone.
"I was minding my own business, tending to some wounds, when I got hit by a wave of it. Fear."
"Shut up."
"It wasn't garden variety either, this was artisanal. Primal. The kind of fear that's always been quietly bubbling away... simmering."
"Rogers, when I find you..."
>>6240385>>6240459>>6240604>>6240607>>6240618>>6240622"Seeing you in the hospital again after all those years. Then being told there's no way to tell if you'd EVER wake up." He takes a breath and let's it go in a satisfied huff. "It was the clearest thing I've ever felt through our Shivers... if I hadn't been interrupted you'd have been the one to feel it. Although... I'm glad I didn't seeing how you're reacting now."
You feel like vomiting. Your brain is superheated by the burning blood that feeds it the energy to devise plan after plan on dealing with him. It gives you threats and hate and vitriol. But it doesn't give you an answer... it doesn't give you anything you can use to fix this. But you can't let yourself be made blind by this, you have to choke it down. Only for now.
"Why? Why my parents? They have nothing to do with anything between us."
"I agree. Sadly, this isn't about us anymore, Mark. It's about judgment day... or did you forget the vision we shared? Gotham reduced to a crater..."
"I remember. But explain to me how killing two innocent people stops that."
"You know I've already quit trying to stop it, Mark. It's God's will. Pre-Ordained. The only influence we have is who we can save... which was my plan for your parents. Save them from the fate that's coming, to do you a favor."
You feel a vein strain against your neck and it's all you can do not to lash out. Allison lightly squeezes you and nods to the tape recorder. You hold her gaze and let it ease you enough to speak.
"Pretty fucked up favor... not to mention I didn't ask you to do anything for me."
"That's because you still don't take me seriously, Mark." The tone switches again, back to that more jovial and child-like lilt. "Do you know much about the Buddha? He achieved divinity through letting go. While this meant worldly possessions that was far from the full extent of it. What the hippies don't mention was that he did not become truly divine until he gave up his attachments."
"So this is some fucked up way of... what?"
"I wanted to clear your perception, Mark. I want to save YOU and I can't do that without you on my side, because I need you to be there with me when the moon falls."
"Why."
"Because you're my last attachment just like I'm yours..." He whispers. "When judgement day comes, I want you next to me as I bare my body to God and show him the souls I saved from his grim harvest. If we both face certain death then it means we've given up our attachment to one another... maybe we'd even ascend in that moment... or at least die satisfied that I died for my own ideals. Not my father's and certainly not God's."
He's truly lost it. The anger blends with disgust, pity, and true bewilderment.
"Mark?" He probes, like a child disturbing their father.
"I'm thinking..." You mutter.
"Good. Good. Thinking means the anger isn't getting in the way anymore, you've seen what I see. You know what I'm saying is true... we aren't mere men, Mark. We're above normal humans and that means it's our responsibility to protect them from things like this."
"Right.." You mumble again.
Your brain spins and tumbles as Rogers rambles. You war with yourself over what to do next. At this point he's so deranged you wonder if further conversation would serve a purpose other than riling him and you up? Then again he seems to have an almost deference to you. You could steer this conversation to something worth taping or maybe wring some useful information out of him? A darker corner of your brain provides another option... pretending to go along with this madness. Swallowing your disgust in order to get close enough to put a bullet in this monster...
>Hang up without another word. He doesn't deserve anymore of your time, Hawthorne and Grey need to hear this recording and get the word out on Rogers."
>"Rogers, I can't really start to mull this over until I know more. Your plan doesn't sound very thought out, I mean did you plan on stabbing millions of people? Sounds like a normal person's plan."
>"Vic... fuck. You might be right. I grew up Catholic but I never really believed in the doomsday stuff so finding out it was all real... it hasn't been easy. I was just trying to hide from it. To pretend it couldn't happen. I didn't want to say anything but... I saw more in my coma. Worse even. We should find a space to meet so I can share the vision with you. It'll change everything."
>Write-In
Explanation for vote discrepancy below:
Started writing before the flood of Hawthorne Kimble Votes came in and only saw when I had already finished the first part. So I went ahead and undercut it with the recorder in order to have something to present to them for when the chat with SIM wraps up and they make their way over to the hospital. Hopefully this is a satisfactory compromise, if not... oops. Sorry about that, I usually begin my update writing/editing at 4am EST sharp. But I didn't want to leave a bunch of people's votes out so it's a bit of a blended vote update but I'll try to do better about that going forward.
Additionally, may be taking another day this week for some work on the game project but it's up in the air. Just in case: Feel free to leave some questions you may have for me along with your vote and if I end up needing that day off I'll supplement it with a little Q&A session answering anything you guys sent. If not, I'll still be answering them anyways on the weekend. Thanks for being patient with me and I'll see you soon.
>>6240629>"Rogers, I can't really start to mull this over until I know more. Your plan doesn't sound very thought out, I mean did you plan on stabbing millions of people? Sounds like a normal person's plan."We need to get him talking about his plan.
>>6240690+1
>>6240629Nah the recorder works perfectly here, good job QM
>>6240690+1.
"So dad... Dame or broad?
>>6240877+1 the spoiler but only when the MEN are alone
>>6240629>"Vic... fuck. You might be right. I grew up Catholic but I never really believed in the doomsday stuff so finding out it was all real... it hasn't been easy. I was just trying to hide from it. To pretend it couldn't happen. I didn't want to say anything but... I saw more in my coma. Worse even. We should find a space to meet so I can share the vision with you. It'll change everything.">>6240690 is right, but better yet if we can catch him
>>6240690>>6240781>>6240797>>6240877>>6240878"Roger, I can't really start to mull this over until I know more." Allison raises a brow but it isn't accusatory, it's genuinely curious. "Your plan doesn't sound very thought out, I mean did you plan on stabbing millions of people? Sounds like a normal person's plan."
"A normal person?" He replies quietly.
"Yeah, I mean you said that we're above normal humans but then your plan is something any nutjob with an icepick could accomplish."
The other side of the line is quiet for a few moments.
"I'm not a nutjob..." He mumbles, almost whining.
"I'm not saying you are, I'm just saying your plan lacks... oomf. Y'know? Is that seriously your best idea?"
"You think I don't wish I could do more, Mark? I do! I just have to be realistic... say I go and plant a bomb in Gotham General or or or... I go and make an elaborate plan to hijack the cities sprinkler system to spread a toxin! I do something like that and all of a sudden I've got federal attention. A.R.G.U.S. attention. Shit that doesn't even cover The Batman or his Justice League.. no no no. I act too big and I get stepped on by the powers that be for disrupting the status quo. That's why I work smart."
"Smart?"
"My plan isn't to save everyone, Mark. I'm not that arrogant... I'll only get a fraction of the souls out of here before it comes but I'm at peace with that."
"Then how do you decide? What makes some people more worthy of 'saving' than others?"
"I act where I see suffering... I bleed the prostitutes, the bums, the unregistered, and anyone else wallowing at the bottom of the barrel. People suffering like that need saving more than people like Bruce Wayne or Tom Elliot or the Kanes! None of them deserve to be saved from what's coming." He calms himself, his speech turning into a flurry near the end. He sighs deeply and continues. "I can only do my best, that's why I make sure to mark each one. So I never forget everyone I've saved... and everyone I couldn't."
In your mind's eye you see it again, that place, the crawlspace from one of your earliest visions. Each gouged tally in the rough wall and that dull blade gripped in your hand.
"Like the crawlspace?"
"That was different... that was when I didn't have control or direction. That was a- it was a memorial. I said my goodbyes to it after I killed Angelo, I knew I could never go back to that house again."
SIMple
md5: c2765f6a4a98202faf0fde1d5c98e281
🔍
"But you said you were keeping marks still, did you find a new place? Could I.." You swallow the bile. "Could I come and pay my respects?"
"You'll have your chance, in the end. There isn't much point in me staying still, it'd only increase the odds of me being found eventually, so I make sure to carry them with me."
Something about the way he says it sends a chill down your spine as your upper body begins to tingle and itch.
"So there's no plan..." As the pieces come together so does an understanding that rattles your core.
He's not a super-villain, or an ego-maniac, or an idiot. He's competent and highly motivated with an understanding of police procedure. There's no grand plan, just a methodical extermination of anyone he can get away with killing before 'the end' comes.
"Nope!" He chirps over the phone. "I just keep myself limited to the dredges and the politicians probably praise my work behind closed doors. They're in no hurry to stop it and when a drop-head is found dead in the Narrows it isn't so much 'Breaking News!' as it is... Tuesday."
"Jesus Christ..." You mutter, unable to stop yourself.
"I know! Bunch of bastards... but the worst of all is Dent. The lack of cameras in his face and protesters on the lawn means your SIM Taskforce has a snowball's chance of getting approved for additional funding or manpower. I'll be able to move freely, saving the people they look down on the most, and when judgement day comes Dent and all the others will be in their offices wishing someone had saved them."
Your hand clenches, you can hear the grin etched into his face as he envisions his little future. You push it aside and keep your mind organized... you have a victim preference and that's more than nothing. On top of that he mentioned the Narrows specifically, it could be his hunting grounds for now, but how long will he stick around there before moving along?
"Anything else, Mark? Not to sound ungrateful, I'm glad you're being open minded with me, but you caught me at a weird time."
>"So are they the only people you're going after? The poor and lower-class? Nobody else?"
>"You said you were 'keeping them with you' earlier. What do you mean by that?"
>"On Halloween night I saw some strange things... did you notice anything off?"
>"How many people have you saved so far?"
>"You may not have any plans for Dent but I know your father did. Mandragora was working with a man named Kal Late, do you know anything about that?"
>"Any chance we can meet? I'm trying to be open minded like you said but.. I need to look you in the eyes. See that you're for real."
>Write-In
>>6241202>"I know! Bunch of bastards... but the worst of all is Dent. The lack of cameras in his face and protesters on the lawn means your SIM Taskforce has a snowball's chance of getting approved for additional funding or manpower. I'll be able to move freely, saving the people they look down on the most, and when judgement day comes Dent and all the others will be in their offices wishing someone had saved them."BOY I WONDER HOW HARVEY DENT WOULD REACT IF WE PLAYED THIS PART IN PARTICULAR TO HIM
>>6241202>"You said you were 'keeping them with you' earlier. What do you mean by that?"I want to know this one badly
>"You may not have any plans for Dent but I know your father did. Mandragora was working with a man named Kal Late, do you know anything about that?"I bet he'd spill info to us just to get back at Mandragora
>"On Halloween night I saw some strange things... did you notice anything off?"And this one last because I know he'll say vague shit and hang up
I think its creepier that he is essentially totally fine with wandering around alleys shanking randoms rather than trying something with any kind of flair. Regular ass evil is much scarier in Gotham which is used to a more flamboyant evil
>>6241202>"You said you were 'keeping them with you' earlier. What do you mean by that?"
>>6241202>>"You said you were 'keeping them with you' earlier. What do you mean by that?"I have a bad feeling about this guys...
When will GDQM write a what-if interlude looking at that timeline where Mark gets stuck in Blackgate with the entire free prison population of Gotham?
>>6241458>When will GDQM write[...]Hello fellow funky green monkey enthusiast. SCQ is two doors down.
>>6241252>>6241327>>6241445"Yeah there's something else... earlier you said that you were 'keeping them with you' when I brought up the tallies. What do you mean by that?"
A long sigh.
"I mean exactly what I said... I keep them with me. In my skin. The same knife I use to end them I use to memorialize them. Their sacrifice. They didn't ask to be born into this world, to be born at the site of Armageddon, they deserve to be honored... and I deserve the pain."
"Rogers... you're putting the marks..." You trail off as you lock eyes with Allison, her hand clamped over her mouth.
"I'll never forget... but that's all I have time for. My work doesn't wait, Mark."
"Wait a second, Rogers. Can't you talk with me a little longer?"
"No sir." He replies in a whisper. "But I do have a question for you."
"Yeah?"
"Did you mean it? When you said you were mulling it over? Helping me? Being there with me in the end?"
"I did." You lie.
"Good... take your time. I don't wanna rush you into anything... but I will keep you honest."
"Excuse me? Honest?"
"I plan on keeping up my work and I know you have appearances to consider in the department and all... but I'll be keeping an eye on you because as much as I like you I can't trust you. Yet." You hear him shuffle and a squeaking like an old door hinge. "Do your best to stall out the taskforce, consider it a show of good faith, do that and I'll be able to meet you at the end of the month when things open up for me."
"Stall the task-force.." You echo. "Right, sure."
"Great, I'm counting on you, Mark. If I find out you were lying to me... I may just act drastically. You have more attachments than just your parents."
The line goes dead before you can reply back and you're left in deafening silence as the click of your recorder snaps in the sterile air. You and Allison share a glance that passes through one-another.
"That's uh.. that's my work." You mumble.
"Are you gonna do it?" She asks quietly.
"You serious?"
"It just didn't sound like he was giving you much choice..."
You drop the phone and place a hand lightly over hers. Her fingers gently nudge against yours, sharing her heat with you.
>"I don't like saying this. But I think it might be outside of the GCPD's hands to handle Rogers, maybe it'd be better if I just passed this along to someone on the outside...">"I'm not doing anything that asshole asked, once I get Hawthorne and Grey over here I'll tell em everything. We can work out a plan of action then.">"He has his own kind of Shivers, like me, if I don't do what he says he'll know. I won't stall them, but I think I can't touch the SIM case at all. I just gotta have faith in Grey and the others. That means no handing over this tape to them though..">"If I have to. Just for as long as I need to meet him in person...">Write-In
You know, if he's so worried about all the people dying in such a shit way unsaved by whatever metric he decided on this week he could have just told people to move. It's not like people are glued to ground here. What a stupid idiot. Taking the hard way up when there's an escalator right there. Fucking nutjob psychopath. And Batman wants to give people like this "another chance". Guy just wants to fucking kill people.
>>6241987>"I don't like saying this. But I think it might be outside of the GCPD's hands to handle Rogers, maybe it'd be better if I just passed this along to someone on the outside..."This prick just threatened Allison right in front of both of them. No fucking way do we take this shit sitting down. We have an ID, and we know some people who will gladly put a bolt in a motherfucker’s head.
Gonna take tonight to buckle down on a few things. Please feel free to continue submitting votes and also submit any Q&A questions you might have about the quest.
I'll answer things from an omniscient perspective provided they don't spoil anything coming up in the future, anything that rides the line I'll put in spoilers just so people don't have to see it if they don't wish. See you soon!
>>6241987>"I'm not doing anything that asshole asked, once I get Hawthorne and Grey over here I'll tell em everything. We can work out a plan of action then.">"I don't like saying this. But I think it might be outside of the GCPD's hands to handle Rogers, maybe it'd be better if I just passed this along to someone on the outside..."I kinda want to call our super couple mainly to talk to Huntress about our situation with SIM, specifically how he might be the only person that we're struggling whether or not to kill him. Maybe she might tell us why she decided to forgo killing him. That, and we need to ask them if Bass Head has gotten in contact with Caesar after what happened on Halloween.
Also, where is everyone?
>>6242005+1, time to check in with Question, or even Batman. But let's loop in our lads, and the Commissioner too.
>>6242393Sorry about the late vote, QM.
Say, is Vic Rogers' birth-name Zsasz, by any chance?
>>6242399I'm not struggling over whether or not to kill SIM. if we get the shot, we take the shot, unless he's literally already helpless and in custody or something.
>>6242399+1
Loop the allies in
>>6242402If you subscribe to the player theory that Vic Rogers is the child from the cold case of Lauretta Zsasz's murder... then quite possibly.
>>6242393How much has this quest “deviated” from your vision, if at all? I’d have to imagine that us proles have pulled this thing in a few directions that surprised you so far.
Also, it’s been a long time since The Cobra incident. What’s your favorite moment since then? Mine was Mark flipping a car while blasting out Biggie Smalls and had a person tied and gagged in the back.
>>6242393What would you do if we actually had prison Mark happen? How crazy would you make it?
>>6242393>submit any Q&A questionsSo does your chain hang low?
>>6241987>"I'm not doing anything that asshole asked, once I get Hawthorne and Grey over here I'll tell em everything. We can work out a plan of action then."
>>6242393Has there been a way to make Rogers turn himself or stopped killing if we actually tries to meet him before he went full "I'll kill everyone to save them"?
Either on the dream realm or on the real world.
Also, maybe I'm answering my own question, but was it the same demon/entity that is talking to Rogers, the same one that kept making him untraceable by Mark's powers? Because even when Mark had that first dream with the Red Lady, he was also there some floors below without being able to be reached
ANITHER ONE: We already know that Mark's powers aren't just some normal telepathy, does that means that Mark can learn Magic? Either from making normal, low level magic trinkets or if he's able to be a full wizard like Constantine or Zatanna
>>6242420Given the nature of the disco elysium shivers alone; probably big differences from the very start
The SIM may have been much more zsass than what he is now.
BaTulpa
md5: 52378e196ec9843db3fa61818e3bdcf9
🔍
>>6242420 >>6243114It's interesting that I actually went into this wanting AS MUCH player freedom as possible in the beginning. I had zero plans for Shivers or the MC being a meta even, I wanted to leave that up to you guys.
I had broad-strokes already planned (the Calc things and Mandragora) but other than that the rest I just came up with as I got suggestions from you guys. Mostly Rogers and the entire SIM storyline, I wanted a personal conflict and an overarching conflict from the start but I had a short list drawn out of characters I might want to use. So after getting Shivers and thinking on it for a while I went with the 'Dark Reflection' blurb I had written out. As far as surprises go I've been surprised by how level headed you guys have usually been, especially with wanting Mark to be a Boy Scout.
Favorite moments so far:
Mystery House
The Gorchakov car chase
The Entire 'Piecing it together' segment with Hawthorne, Question, and Grey.
(This one didn't happen) But I was excited for if you guys chose the risky play of letting Batman's Tulpa hunt you. PicRel hopefully gives an idea for what the tone would have been.
>>6242429Instead of Constantine shocking your nervous system you probably would have been beaten into this coma and in a lot worse shape when you woke up. Avoidable, of course, by fighting/running/hiding out until SWAT + Kimble managed to breach the prison and get you out. That and letting yourself be hunted in dream Gotham were the ways to avoid the coma-skip.
>>6242436No, but I do stack cash to the ceiling and roll around on 24 inch chrome.
>>6242526I'll get to this a little later because I have to think back a bit.
Thanks for the questions, fellas. Feel free to send more if anything else pops up in your mind.
>>6242526Yes, simply put. But not in the direction your story took. The Cold Case route was your way to 'saving' Vic but nothing could have changed that by then he was already a really messed up guy and a killer. But you may have been able to get him to eventually turn himself in (if he didn't kill himself first) or maybe even have him admitted to Arkham which would have been... something.
Dream world you haven't been able to connect with him so there's no chance of changing his course from there.
Reply to the 'Demon' Rogers speaks with below:
Rogers does have an entity he speaks too, much like Mark's Red Lady and if you go back he's only vaguely described it a few times but definitely enough has been said that it can be gleamed that Rogers and Mark are working off different Operating Systems, so to speak. Mark's powers are definitely more passive, but therefore more broad. Roger's powers seem very focused, probably best displayed by the time he made you faint for trying to peek at his face. That's why his grander vision of a destroyed Gotham really set him off, it was his first time having one of the 'Floating above Gotham' visions that Mark is now kind of well versed in.
Also, Mark COULD learn magic to an amateur level I'd say. But I don't see him trusting it enough to use, since unlike Shivers, he doesn't have a natural affinity towards it. It'd be a long study that's for sure.
>>6242486>>6242399>>6242005"I'm not doing a thing that asshole asked." You say, snappier than intended. "Once I get Hawthorne and Grey over here I'll tell em everything. We can work out a plan of action then."
"A plan of action? Like what? You've been out Mark but the world kept moving, Dent is on a warpath right now, he even brought back his 'put a dent in crime' schtick."
"A warpath?"
"I've been working so I haven't caught much of it, but essentially he's railing on the fact that Blackgate is so corrupted that the only way to protect Gotham is to 'amputate it' by making it some kind of federal prison."
"He's going through with it... A.R.G.U.S." You mumble, you rub your forehead and sigh. "Damnit. Goddamnit!"
A light hand trails down your back as Allison places a hand on yours.
"I'm sorry, Mark. But I think he might have been right, Dent is so focused on this Blackgate nonsense that I don't see him helping the GCPD hunt for a killer."
"You might be right... shit. I don't like saying this. But I think this might be outside of the GCPD's hands, dealing with Rogers, maybe it'd be better if I just passed this along to someone on the outside..."
"Like who? Batman?"
You shrug. Not ready to open the can of worms that comes along with Question and Huntress, not right now.
"I dunno, maybe. Commissioner Gordon has a line to him, maybe I can bring it up. Look could you do me a favor and take my folks down to the cafeteria or something? Calm my mom down a bit, make sure she knows I'm fine."
"Sure, I could use a minute myself." She squeezes your hand gently and rises from the bed.
You watch through the slats of your blinds as she puts on a happy face and starts chatting up your folks. You take the opportunity to make a call.
"Allison?" A rough voice grumbles.
"It's me. I'm awake."
"I'll be right there." Hawthorne answers simply. "You're lucky you woke up, mess we caused, I'd have killed you if you didn't."
"Yeah well I-"
You're interrupted by a light knock on your hospital door.
"Gotta go, Doctor I think. Get here soon."
"Already on it. Be there in ten."
You hang up just as the knob turns and the door opens to reveal your father. He calmly enters the room and shuts the door behind him, both of you glance out the blinds to see Allison leading your mother onto the elevator, as the doors close he faces you.
"Mark."
"Pop."
"You know me well enough to know that I never worry, your mom does that enough for the both of us."
"I know, dad I-"
"Ah ah." Your father says, pointing at you with his index and pinky. "Let me talk, son. I understand your job is dangerous and there's a lot of stuff you probably can't tell us or would rather not. But we've always been open with each other about things, I take pride in that, so that's why I'm only gonna ask you once, and I'll accept whatever answer you give me because I love you and I trust you. What's this situation? Is your mother in any danger? Do I need to get Nonno's service rifle out of the closet?"
>"No pop, it isn't that serious. Just an officer who was out of position during Halloween. You don't have anything to worry about."
>"You remember the mole problem the GCPD had in the news? One of those guys has beef with me, he was the one at your house that night. He was trying to mess with me. You aren't in any danger though, we know who he is."
>"You might... that killer in the papers? SIM? I caught his attention and he has some kind of obsession with me and tried to use you guys to get to me.
>"I can't tell you anything specific, it's an open investigation, but I would keep it close by. I'll also be looking into having the Sheriff's Department maybe set up outside the house until this blows over."
>Tell Him Everything.
>Write-in
>>6244536>"I can't tell you anything specific, it's an open investigation, but I would keep it close by. I'll also be looking into having the Sheriff's Department maybe set up outside the house until this blows over.">"You might want to, but if you do, please work with and tell the department guys who come, just not THAT guy who came by".
>>6244551+1
Question for QM: Did Nonno came back with a Garand, or an M1 or M2? Did he leave a M1911 in the gun safe, or did he snag a Beretta M1934 or 35? An M38 Carcano? Or, dare I dream, the experimental M1942 Sosso Pistol stolen from the cold dead hands of Benito Mussolini?!
>>6244551>Sheriff's DepartmentLast I checked, GCPD stood for Gotham City POLICE Department Anon.
>>6244853Wait hold on I'm a collosal dumbass and didn't realize that's what DetectQM wrote as well. Does Gotham actually have sheriffs on top of the GCPD?
>>6244855After a quick google search, apparently it's pretty common for a whole county to be served by a single sheriff's office on top of each city having it's own police department. So I guess in this case, there WOULD be a Gotham County Sherrif's Office.
The more you know I guess.
>>6244536>Swear him to secrecy.>Tell Him Everything.
>>6244855Yep, The GCPD is the Metropolitan Police Force. They operate within city limits (with exceptions ofc) while the Sheriff's office covers the county that Gotham is within.
Since Mark's parents live over the river from China Town, in Burnside, they are under the jurisdiction of the Sheriff's Department of Gotham County.
>>6244767Great question! I did have weapons in mind but I'm glad someone asked so I can be specific.
He brought two guns back from the war. Mark has seen both of them as well and heard the stories behind them (maybe another cut-away some time if you guys arent sick of Grandpa yet)
He brought back a Beretta M1935 that he got from an RIA Officer who surrendered and the other was the good ol M1 Carbine. He also brought home an old polaroid that he promised to show you when you were older. The back of it was marked 'Milan, 4/29/45'
Update to come at the usual time!
>>6244551>>6244623>>6244639>>6244683>>6244767>>6244846Seems to be unanimous (sorry
>>6244892)
>>6244978>Great question!Nice! Did he keep the M1 stock, or did he modify it, like with full auto or a homemade flash hider? Oh, and any melee souvenirs? Italians were known for knife skills in the Great War with their trench raids, don't see any reason why it couldn't have carried over to the second war.
Actually, I just realized we haven't talked much about Grandma... Where did she and Nonno first cross paths?
>>6244978>He brought back a Beretta M1935 that he got from an RIA Officer who surrenderedNot too knowledgeable about Beretta's output in that era. Seems like a rare piece either way and .32 ACP seems to kill people just as good as it did 80 years ago.
>and the other was the good ol M1 CarbineA fine piece so long as it's clean, lubed, had the springs replaced, has quality ammo, isn't running original magazines, etc...
||Note to self, get a gun made this century for Pops' birthday this year.||
>>6244995 Goddamnit I used the Discord spoiler tags again.
>>6244996Anon... I think you need to check yourself in to Arkham Asylum. Discord spoilertag posting on 4chan should be a LOCK ME UP level of offense
>>6244995I’m sure Nonno DeLucia would enjoy a good 2011. Red dot might be too fancy for him though.
>>6245003I was gonna suggest a Glock 17L, specifically the MOS version since it's always nice to have the option of mounting an optic.
Of course this is after installing all the aftermarket stuff like extended controls, a new trigger kit, night sights, a good flashlight, etc...
Glocks are good guns and I stand by that, but they are far from perfect out of the box, especially if you have small hands.
>>6244986Fully stock, he wasn't mechanically minded enough to do more than the basic maintenance he was taught. No melee souvenirs but he did have a framed photograph of a letter from Pope Pious XII. It wasn't addressed to him directly, it was an open letter to US Soldiers of Catholic faith thanking them for/encouraging their open support to have Rome declared an open city in order to cease the bombings and urged them to maintain their faith in God that the war would soon end. (I may or may not be basing Nonno one someone I know.)
>>6244995>so long as it's clean, lubed, had the springs replaced, has quality ammo, isn't running original magazines, etc...Mark's father has definitely just been letting it sit in a closet for the last 20-odd years.
>>6245026(suddenly recalls the Darwin Award winner of the guy who stole an M1911 from a WW2 vet and used it in a robbery to attempt to shoot a gas station cashier, only to learn what a hangfire is when he pulled the trigger and, when the WW2 era bullet failed to fire, LOOK DOWN THE BARREL OF THE GUN, by which point the primer promptly ignited and sent the robber's own bullet into his head)
"...DAD NO!"
>>6245026It should be fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine...for a few mags at least.
>>6244551"I can't tell you anything specific.." You begin.
"Ah, Mark-" Your father groans but you wave a hand to stop that.
"Pop, it's an open investigation. I can't tell you specifics but I can say... yeah. I'd keep it close by. I'll also be looking into having the Sheriff's Department set up outside the house until this blows over."
"Per l'amor di Dio, Mark." Your dad says slicking his hair back with a free hand. "Alright, I'll dust the old thing off."
"Yeah well, just promise me you'll work with and tell the deputies who come by that you've got it. Also when's the last time you cleaned Nonno's rifle?"
"Why do I gotta clean it? Not like I been firing it."
"Pop.." You sigh, forming a slight grin despite your worry. "Look, I know a guy. Runs the range for GCPD, used to be in SWAT before he retired, he might have the time to come out there and make sure that thing doesn't blow up in your hands if you have to use it."
"God forbid." Your father mumbles, making the sign of the cross.
"Yeah... I'm sorry. But when it's all wrapped up I'll tell you more. I promise."
"I know, I get it. Just... you're so much like your nonno that sometimes I worry you'll get the bad things too."
"Bad things?"
"You were too young. But the war was hard on him, a lot of the things they asked him to do, just never sat right with him. Your mother and I, we talked to him about coming to America not just to help us out but also because I thought he needed to be around family. First time he saw you, he lit up like I hadn't seen for too long, you two were inseparable after that. Best friends..." He trails off, eyes slightly misty as he smiles a bittersweet grin.
"I'm.. uh." He wipes the corner of his eye with his thumb. "I'm just saying don't be afraid to lean on people if you need it. I know, open investigation and all, but I'm always gonna be here for you."
He steps in and gives you one of his classic bear hugs, going easy when you wheeze slightly.
"Thanks, Pop." You mumble into his shoulder.
"I'm proud of ya." He adds on with another squeeze before straightening up and taking a step for the door. "I should get back to your mom before she drives your girl crazy."
"Yeah.." You chuckle, suddenly lifting a hand. "Eh, wait a sec. I do have one more question.."
"Hm?"
"Allison... Dame or Broad?"
He pauses for a minute, eyebrows bumping up in surprise before a cheeky grin spreads across his face. He opens the door and steps half in.
"I already told ya I was proud of you.." He says before disappearing with a sleavy chuckle.
You laugh yourself and watch him head to the elevator...
====
You don't have to wait long before Hawthorne, true to his word, turns up with Grey behind him. The step inside, close the blinds, and settle down.
"I can tell by that pissed off look on your face that you're not looking for small talk." Hawthorne starts gruffly.
"I'd be pissed off if I was in a coma for three days..." Grey comments.
"Yeah well... I found out some pretty bad news when I woke up." You hold up the recorder. "I know you're gonna be pissed but you made it pretty clear that even if I'm being stupid I gotta be smart about it."
Hawthorne catches the recorder as you lightly toss it, not quite as far as you'd have liked. He and Grey lean in as he clicks play. Their faces settle into grim scowls as they listen to your entire conversation with Rogers. The more Rogers speaks the tighter you see Hawthorne's fist getting. Finally the call reaches it's conclusion with the recorder's muted click.
"Jesus Christ." Hawthorne spits. "He's off his fucking rocker, this kid."
"Crazy like a fox." Grey counters. "He's picking off people who he knows won't be missed. Won't stir up a big enough mess to get him in the crosshairs. He's worse than crazy. He's smart."
"At least until it comes to me." You interject. "All this time chasing him and he still thinks he can win me over. That we can be friends or some shit."
"Work the beat a few more years you'll see it plenty. If the stories he told you about Mandragora forcing him into the button-man business are true then it makes sense. Spent most of his life in an abusive relationship, you come along and speak to him in the language he knows best. Violence. During that you also showed him you're more similar than he thought." Grey speaks slowly, measured. Like he's approving every word before it leaves his mouth.
"How so?"
"Well you told us that when you connected you got shivers, some visions of what might have been his childhood, who's to say the same didn't happen to him?"
"Yeah..." Hawthorne growls. "The little shit did switch up pretty quick after you dropped him in the ring. Got real chummy."
"He wants connection, wants someone to validate him.." Grey mumbles, eyes distant as you see the familiar expression of shifting gears.
"So what, he wants a friend? Someone to tell him he's not a lunatic?"
"More like, he wants a brother. Someone who understands him more than anything.. it's something we could use."
"Woah woah, you heard him on the tape. Mark works with us on this and Stabby is gonna get mad and someone innocent is gonna pay." Hawthorne interrupts with a passion in his voice. "As his TO I'm not signing off on him doing any work on this case. Not when it puts innocent people like his folks or his lady in danger."
"Mitch." Grey says, still measured but now tinged with something else. "I understand where you're coming from here. But this guy is already well into double digits carving people up. Carving HIMSELF up. He is not something we can ignore."
"Did I say to ignore him? Shit, I say we do this the old fashioned way, we gather Kimble, Banks, fuck it whoever. Reiner signs off on a little 'focused tour' of the Narrows and we go around until he flops out of his rat hole."
"And then we kill him, right?" Grey finishes sarcastically. "Cause that's what the good guys do in the old west. Just go shoot up the town until we get our guy."
"Better than Mark coming home to his lady friend's fingers in a box or worse!"
"HEY." You manage to get out, immediately going into a coughing fit. "Don't.. yell... in the... hospital. Fuck.."
Hawthorne grumbles an apology and shifts back into his seat.
"How about we ask Mark his opinion?" Grey says, more even toned now. "That's always been your style right? Let the student guide and you be there to support em?"
Hawthorne chews his inner cheek but he doesn't say no. Instead he looks up to you expectantly.
>"I want to work on this. I already plan on having the Sheriff keep an eye on my folks. Allison works in a fire house and when she's home we can do an unmarked. I'm not gonna let this guy scare me into not doing my job."
>"He needs to be stopped. But me getting involved is only gonna escalate things. He said all that because he's comfortable and convinced the Task Force can't find him as it is. Prove him wrong, work in the background and I'll try not to rock his boat. I trust you guys."
>"It really hurts me to say this... and Grey you know I wouldn't if I thought it was possible but. I don't see us being able to handle him alone, without any real support or resources from Dent. We'll work for free, so will Kimble. Maybe Banks. But we aren't convincing anyone else to go on this goose chase with the five of us and whatever uniforms Grey already has. It might be time we consider passing this off to our... mutual friends.
>>6245116>>"I want to work on this. I already plan on having the Sheriff keep an eye on my folks. Allison works in a fire house and when she's home we can do an unmarked. I'm not gonna let this guy scare me into not doing my job."I get the distinct impression we're one of the few people that can catch him before he does something else heinous.
>>6245116>"He needs to be stopped. But me getting involved is only gonna escalate things. He said all that because he's comfortable and convinced the Task Force can't find him as it is. Prove him wrong, work in the background and I'll try not to rock his boat. I trust you guys.">”Grey, you’re not gonna like this. But I don’t think this guy will let us take him alive. Tell Kimble to keep his shotgun oiled… and I’m going to pass word along to our other friends. I’ve had enough innocents die for this.”No shot that we can take Rogers alive. We see hide or hair of this guy, ventilate him.
>>6245233+1
>>6244978>The back of it was marked 'Milan, 4/29/45'HOLY SHIT NONNO ACTUALLY SHOT MUSSOLINI/KILLED BLACKSHIRTS WITH G.I. ROBOT/IS MAKING OUT WITH A THEMYSCIRIAN AMAZON WHO KINDA LOOKS LIKE GAMGAM
Delaying the update until tonight, due to Project shit, since it's only 2 votes atm I think that's fine.
Early update tonight, depending on votes I may double up. We will see.
>>6245680Good, now I can catch up. For something with daily updates this quest is surprisingly dense.
>>6245116We need SIM dead. Not is prison, not on trial, dead. It's a very non boy scout thing to do, but Mark will have to deal.
So batman is right out. Q and H might also be out, since they were actually talking Hawthorne out of Mandragora magdumping. We have to somehow find this guy, without using superpowers since he has his bullshit scrying protection, and kill him. Fuck it man, Mark Dredd.
>>"I want to work on this. I already plan on having the Sheriff keep an eye on my folks. Allison works in a fire house and when she's home we can do an unmarked. I'm not gonna let this guy scare me into not doing my job.">>"It really hurts me to say this... and Grey you know I wouldn't if I thought it was possible but. I don't see us being able to handle him alone, without any real support or resources from Dent. We'll work for free, so will Kimble. Maybe Banks. But we aren't convincing anyone else to go on this goose chase with the five of us and whatever uniforms Grey already has. It might be time we consider passing this off to our... mutual friends.It's fucked up that our current "advantage" over SIM is that he thinks he could get Mark on his side, because we always went with his bullshit for some reason. But I honestly can't take this pretend-to-be-friends shit anymore, we have an ID, I want a manhunt with an unceremonious double tap in the end. Wish Dent would actually help, since we furthered his plans so much.
>>6245116>"It really hurts me to say this... and Grey you know I wouldn't if I thought it was possible but. I don't see us being able to handle him alone, without any real support or resources from Dent. We'll work for free, so will Kimble. Maybe Banks. But we aren't convincing anyone else to go on this goose chase with the five of us and whatever uniforms Grey already has. It might be time we consider passing this off to our... mutual friends.
>>6245730I'm not saying we can't or shouldn't kill SIM if we get the shot, but he's just Psychic Zsasz. I see no reason a superhero couldn't take him alive, possibly will less collateral than us trying to take him dead. There's nonresson jot to call in fabours from Constantine, Batman... Whoever.
>>6245730Reid technique, my friend. You need to become “friends” with a perp before you turn up the heat on them.
That’s how you get a confession.
>Fuck it man, Mark DreddExcuse me, don’t you mean The Cobra, quick-drawing precog extraordinaire?
>>6245887Hey you ain't foolin' us, buster. The Cobra is a hitman, not a trigger-happy copper.
>>6245919The Cobra takes orders from no man. He lashes out and strikes as he pleases.
kobra
md5: 0d2a5e14e89e90e580ec441bb5e6b780
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>>6245928But what if the Cobra meets the Kobra? What'll happen then?
>>6246027That's not my Kobra. THIS IS
>>6246060Wait wait hold on, I thought this was your Cobra?
>>6245841>>6245730>>6245243>>6245259"I want to work on this..." You begin. "I already planned on having the Sheriff keep an eye on my folks. Allison works in a fire house and when she's home we can do an unmarked. I'm not gonna let this guy scare me into not doing my job."
Hawthorne claps his hands and leans forward, grasping your shoulder tightly.
"That's the spirit, son. Don't let this bastard win."
"Mark... I was really hoping you'd understand that we need to be rational here. We can't let anger of fear guide us."
"Yeah well the alternative is to do nothing!" You snap. "It really hurts me to say that... and Grey, you know I wouldn't if I thought we had any other way. But I don't see us being able to handle this without resources or any real support from Dent. We'll work for free and so will Kimble. Maybe Banks. But we aren't convincing anyone else to go on this goose chase with only five of us and whatever uniforms are already assigned."
"The kid's right, Grey. Dent is gonna leave us hanging by our short and curlies here..." Hawthorne offers.
Grey remains silent, his jaw tensing and releasing as he lightly taps his thumbs together beneath his steepled fingers.
"Are you saying what I think you're saying, Mark?"
"I think it might be time we consider passing this off to our... mutual friends."
Grey scoffs and lowers his head to his hands.
"Course..." He mumbles. "Who?"
Hawthorne glances up at you with more than a little surprise.
"You sure? I know you don't.." Hawthorne trails off.
"Just. Let Mark talk." He says, tired. He lets out a slow breath and raises his eyes to you. "Who?"
>"Question and Huntress. I know you don't like them but Question is a good tracker and Huntress... she doesn't hesitate.">"Batman, I kinda helped him out with something so maybe he'd be willing to step in.">"I know a guy... John Constantine. He's... a magician, not like birthday parties either, he's a a real deal mage and he ABSOLUTELY owes me a favor.">"A detective from out of town, his name is Jones. He was pretty sick until recently but I can reach out and see if he's recovered.">Write-In
>>6246104>"I know a guy... John Constantine. He's... a magician, not like birthday parties either, he's a a real deal mage and he ABSOLUTELY owes me a favor."I was initially going to opt for Question and Huntress, but Constantine might be our best option. Given the nature of his work recently, I think he's the only person who could track Vic reliably if he decides to lean on his powers to evade detection, which he most definitely will if he realizes he's the victim of a manhunt.
>>6246104>"A detective from out of town, his name is Jones. He was pretty sick until recently but I can reach out and see if he's recovered."Choosing Constantine is uh... never a good idea. Sure, he gets the job done but he is the definition of a monkey's paw. Batman is probably doing his usual keeping 10000 plates spinning, and as much as I love Question I'm not sure that's the route to go. At least Martian Manhunter has a police alter ego which would probably make everyone more at ease.
>>6246137I vote for Martian Manhunter for the calming reason plus the fact we need to keep the favor Constantine owes us in trying to unfuck the tumor situation.
>>6246104>"Question and Huntress. I know you don't like them but Question is a good tracker and Huntress... she doesn't hesitate."We know they’re solid. Manhunter is known to be weak to the Gotham entity and Constantine is a turd in the punch bowl.
>>6246104>"A detective from out of town, his name is Jones. He was pretty sick until recently but I can reach out and see if he's recovered."Please do not job
>>6246145>>6246208They're weak as shit to the Gotham dream spectre.
Batman at WORST if only for research/comments sult. At minimum consult.
Question is one of those of the dreamers evidentally, even if he hasn't noticed due to being nuts.
>>6246104>>"I know a guy... John Constantine. He's... a magician, not like birthday parties either, he's a a real deal mage and he ABSOLUTELY owes me a favor."I tanked a giga magic brain blast for you, now help me find a guy who threatened my family. If some demon eats him in the process we can write it off as collateral
>>6246104>"A detective from out of town, his name is Jones. He was pretty sick until recently but I can reach out and see if he's recovered."I'd also accept
>"I know a guy... John Constantine. He's... a magician, not like birthday parties either, he's a a real deal mage and he ABSOLUTELY owes me a favor."but havign just woken up out of the coma that git put us in, MM may be a more in-character choice.
>>6246104>"A detective from out of town, his name is Jones. He was pretty sick until recently but I can reach out and see if he's recovered."I kinda want to save the Constantine favor for later.
Specifically to see if he can send a message to Valentine from his family. Or vice versa, I don't know how being dead works in the DC Universe, or if doing so would have Constantine fuck it up because that's how the plot happens in his comics.
>>6246551Oh shit, that's a good shout.
>>6246554Is Valentine gonna become Ghost Rider if we fuck this up?
>>6246591That's marvel
Though guess we haven't established deadman; tho that's probably already a thing. Can always have more ghosts.
>>6246642They can have ghostrider, so long as we get to keep Snowflame.
>>6246137>>6246145>>6246208>>6246507>>6246551"A detective from out of town, his name is Jones."
Grey's head lifts, his face confused but considerably lighter than before.
"Tell me about him."
"He's like me, kind of, psychic or something. He taught me the breathing techniques and how to work with my Shivers rather than against em."
"What department is he based out of?"
"I.. don't know actually. I kind of got in contact with him through my ex, he's.. y'know. One of THEM."
Hawthorne and Grey exchange a confused glance.
"Sorry?" Grey asks. "One of who?"
Hawthorne snaps his fingers and smiles.
"Justice League! You told me your old lady was involved with em, right?"
"Quiet!" You hiss. "Yes, he's in the league. Though I don't recognize him from the news or any exhibits, so he's probably like a support member. But he's a well trained psychic and a detective on top of it. He's gotta be skilled if he's backing up the League."
"And better yet, the League doesn't kill." Grey adds. "...at least not typically."
"Where is this Jones, then? What's the timeframe on getting him into town?" Hawthorne asks.
"That's the thing, he was sick until recently. Same thing that was messing with my Shivers but it got him a lot worse... I'm hoping that whatever I saw at Arkham and what I did to end up asleep for a couple days fixed it. I have to reach out though."
"Well, you're awake. Lost enough muscle to be a little unsteady but you should be able to go home later today. With the-"
Hawthorne and Grey both look down as phones buzz in unison. Hawthorne pulls it out and sighs deeply.
"Fucking bullshit..." He mumbles. "You?"
"Every day." Grey grunts, standing up. "Sorry, Mark. Reiner has us on retainer for the Mayor, that's the best part of you waking up."
"Huh? Dent? What do I have to do with that?"
"Apparently you and Hawthorne made an impression on Halloween, Dent requested you guys specifically for any public appearances he's had planned."
"And this week he's been out there every day running his jaw. While you've been on beauty rest, I was left with Grey here as a partner. It wouldn't be so bad but it's constant, I mean the camera's are outside twenty-four hours a day and he's eating it up, this situation with Blackgate's blown up. Feds are already back in town as well, lots of closed door meetings between them and Dent."
"So then, Valentine was right. Blackgate's for sale and this whole mess probably just made it an easier sell to the city council." You mumble.
"Out of our hands." Hawthorne grunts. "Shit's flowing downhill, right now? Focus on dodging."
"And getting better." Grey chimes in.
"But no rush... you'll have light duty until you're back up to snuff. That means no babysitting Dent and his cameras." Hawthorne cuts in.
"I'm on light duty?"
"Just until you can yell at a suspect without running out of breath. I agree with it this time, you need to ease back in." Hawthorne pats your shoulder gently and then pulls a leather lump from behind his back.
"Brought this for you. Your back-up piece. Figure you'd feel a little naked without something on you."
"Thanks, sir." You mumble, taking the snub-nose and setting it on your side table. "You guys are going then?"
"Dent's giving a speech in 30, probably end up doing another one tonight." Grey groans as he pulls the door open. "But don't worry about us. I'll pass this tape to Reiner, he can set up Wit-Pro and maybe convince Dent to send us some funding."
"None of that's on your plate though. For now focus on sleeping in your own bed." Hawthorne says as he follows Grey out the door. Only he pauses for a moment. "Oh, uh... glad you're alright, son. We were all worried about ya."
You only nod as Hawthorne taps the frame once and leaves with Grey.
====
A few hours, some more tests, and before you know it you're being wheeled to the front door of the hospital. Your dad pushes while Allison and your mom flank you, chatting above your head about the city and life. As the sliding doors open you slowly rise to your feet, testing your weight before taking a few shakey steps that gradually solidify.
"I'm shocked you're able to move around, the doctor said not to be surprised if you needed a day or two with help." Your mom coos, fighting the urge to help you steady yourself.
"DeLucia boys are built like oxen, honey." Your dad says, giving you a hearty backslap that almost drops you on your nose. "We come from strong stock."
Allison suppresses a giggle and offers you her arm.
"Hawthorne parked your car at the apartment already, I'll give you a lift."
"We'll follow you!" Your mom calls out before your dad puts an arm around her shoulder.
"Ah, no... honey. We can't we have to uh... have dinner!" Your dad stumbles his way through.
"Dinner?"
"Well it isn't often we're in the city, plus Mark is okay! He's got a lovely GIRL looking after him, so maybe I take you to a nice place and we have a nice night to unwind. Get something in you that isn't hospital chow."
"Oh, Mario..." Your mom sighs dreamily. "That hospital food was terrible... Mark, would you m-"
"Not at all." You answer swiftly. "Have fun, I'm okay."
She purses her lips and hems and haws but as soon as you see her arm loop beneath your Father's, you know she's made up her mind.
"As long as you promise me you get something to eat. And call me tomorrow!"
"I promise, Ma." You say gently.
"Alright... Mario, what were you thinking? I'm craving Italian."
"Well in that case, we could always skip dinner and head home."
"Mario!" She huffs slapping his arm playfully.
"Pop!" You grunt as you make a face and turn away. "I'll call you guys tomorrow, after I forget that."
Allison escorts you to her car and helps you settle into the passenger seat as she fires it up and hits the street.
The drive is quiet, not due to any awkward tension, but you spend the majority of it going through missed texts, calls, emails, and more than one person you vaguely remember from college reaching out to check on you. Seems word of your ‘situation’ spread around, probably your Mom and her usual group of hens, but nothing from SIM on your personal. You’re so engrossed in reading articles about Dent’s response to Blackgate and more than once you see A.R.G.U.S. pop up, especially in an article where the DA claimed Dent was blocking their attempts to make a plea deal with Warden Quinn to flip on Mandragora. The feds are getting their fingers deep into this pie and something about it all just makes your gut twist.
You’re so lost in catching up that it isn’t until Allison lightly clears her throat that you even realize you’re home.
“Lost in thought?” She asks quietly.
“Lost for sure…” You mumble, clicking off your phone and pocketing it. “Just trying to catch up on lost time.”
“Mm, makes sense. Gotta be scary, right?”
“More annoying than anything.”
“Your dad wasn’t kidding. A three day coma is annoying, huh?”
“Ah well, you know. Different stock and all.”
You share a laugh in the enclosed space. You can smell her perfume clearly now without the heavy scent of industrial cleaners. You can see the glint in her eye as she stares at you. Then for the briefest of moments, you see the flesh of her neck gouged and a bubbling stream of hot life spilling forth. You flinch hard and when you open your eyes again she’s back to normal and leaning closer.
“Mark? You okay?”
“Yeah… just… thought I saw something. Guess I’m not quite up to Oxen standards..” You laugh weakly at your own joke.
“Do you want me to walk you in? Make sure you get settled?” She rests a calming hand on your forearm and it’s like a soothing balm. But your mind can’t push that imagery out of your head.
>”Yeah, that’d be nice actually. I’ll get you a coffee or a beer or something.”
>”I can manage some stairs, besides I still need to catch up on what I missed. Sometime soon though, maybe we can go out?”
>”No.. I mean, not tonight. I’m not at 100% and I don’t want you to have to take care of me. I appreciate it though.
>Write-In
Work on that side project is winding down so by next week I should be all good without distraction. That being said, as always I love to hear your thoughts on big blocks of text like this. Overall I've been really enjoying the chatter between updates, very fun to read through when I'm tallying up.
Potential update "tomorrow" or Saturday. We will see if I can wrap this project up in the evening soon enough to put one out. Appreciate you guys, see you soon.
>>6246714>”Yeah, that’d be nice actually. I’ll get you a coffee or a beer or something.”
>>6246714>”Yeah, that’d be nice actually. I’ll get you a coffee or a beer or something.”
>>6246714>>”Yeah, that’d be nice actually. I’ll get you a coffee or a beer or something.”
>>6246714>”Yeah, that’d be nice actually. I’ll get you a coffee or a beer or something.”We gotta relax
>>6246712>"A detective from out of town, his name is Jones."All technically accurate. mars IS out of town, kek.
>>6246651Oh man, imagine if Snowflame was in this quest? That's a very different vibe, but somehow still fitting.
>>6246714>”Yeah, that’d be nice actually. I’ll get you a coffee or a beer or something.”She can fix us, kek.
Good character work as always, QM. Our parents are great.
>>6246714>”Yeah, that’d be nice actually. I’ll get you a coffee or a beer or something.”JaMbA JuIcE?
>>6246986>Oh man, imagine if Snowflame was in this quest?I can only imagine that it would give genre whiplash and we'd go from gritty supernatural psuedo-noir to satirical buddy cop in a heatbeat. Like a Lethal Weapon parody played straight.
>>6247086I suppose there are also ways to make a meta narco-cultist empowered by cocaine pretty menacing, played straight.
>Then for the briefest of moments, you see the flesh of her neck gouged and a bubbling stream of hot life spilling forth.
Is SIM/Rogers bleeding through to Mark somehow? If so, does that mean Mark is also feedbacking to him in return?
>>6247562I think it's just meant to be a flash of terror/remorse for getting her involved.
>>6247625I mean...we DO have a brain tumor that the docs said might start messing with our perception of reality. I know fixing that isn't the most pressing issue at the moment, but I do think it's kinda important to remember.
>>6246754>>6246778>>6246783>>6246808>>6246986>>6247029"Yeah, that'd be nice actually." You manage, shaking off.. whatever that was. "I'll get you a coffee or a beer or something."
"Bit late for coffee, but a beer?" She smiles warmly as she gets out and gently guides you to the door.
As you approach the front door you glance down the alley and see the black marks left by licking flames still on the brick. You shudder and step inside. A long march up the stairwell and you find yourself walking down a familiar hallway. In front of your door is a small plate of brownies covered in plastic wrap and a 'GET WELL SOON' Mylar balloon that bobs gently against the wall.
"Aww.." Allison coos.
You bend down and pluck the small post-it note that clings to the plastic wrap:
'Don't worry, I kept the door locked! -Ms. Dover'
You tap the cling film and hit solidified confectionary as you tuck the note in your pocket and scoop up the plate.
"She must have made those the morning after Halloween.. I came to get you some spare clothes in case you woke up but she wouldn't let me in."
"She wouldn't?"
"Nope, she told me she 'wasn't falling for that again' so I just bought you some stuff from a corner store. What did she mean by 'that again' anyways?"
You just chuckle to yourself as you insert your key and step inside with the balloon trailing.
"Sit down." She directs you. "Get off your feet before you collapse."
"Good idea.." You groan settling onto your sofa. "Beer's in the fridge."
"You look like you need one too." She calls over the sound of jingling glass. "Oh?"
"What's up?" You call out, sitting up slowly.
Allison stands holding a small tented card, bottles held at the neck in her other hand. She scans over it and smiles.
"Your family is so sweet, gallows humor too."
"What?"
"Your uncle, left this for you. I guess family outranks girlfriend."
She sits next to you and hands you the card, as soon as you touch it there's a slight shift in the air. Allison crinkles her nose and you catch a familiar scent of sulphur.
'Knew you wouldn't die. I'll be sending a gift soon. -Your Uncle Johnny'
You scoff and set the card on the table, sending the stench with it. You feel warm pressure on your side as Allison leans gently on your shoulder and pokes into your chin with the mouth of a cold bottle. You gladly accept it and have a long awaited drink before settling back into the plush cushions of your couch.
"That was a long Halloween..." You mutter, taking another swig.
"You're telling me." Allison mumbles, nuzzling her head into the crook of your neck.
You both sit there for a moment, enjoying the silence. For a moment the only thing on your mind is your next sip and the warm of her body seeping through your clothes, like sunlight. Things are far from fine. But they might just be okay.
Minutes pass as you both drink beer until eventually Allison breaks the silence.
"Can you tell me what happened?"
"Huh?"
"On Halloween. The call went out for you on EMS waves so.."
"You heard it."
She nods meekly.
"Not really proud but I was wigged out a little bit... a good bit."
"I'm sorry.."
"No! Don't be it's not your fault, obviously. But you were a pretty big point of discussion, you got dropped off at Gotham General by an Airship. That kind of shit doesn't happen everyday, not even on Halloween."
"What's the story you got?"
"You collapsed on the Airship, started spraying blood out of your nose. I managed to get off crew and come see you with Hawthorne and the big one."
"Kimble."
"Mhm and being honest? You looked... bad. You lost around thirty-percent of your blood, I could tell it was bad from how pale you were. Definitely hypotensive and sweating like you were in a sauna." She rambles a bit before catching herself and sighing. "I've seen plenty of that and worse being with the department but..."
"It's different when it's someone you know?"
"Something like that." She returns, looking up to you again. "So what happened? Cause from how you talked at the hospital it didn't seem like a freak accident."
>Tell her the whole story. John's magic, the tulpa, your mind palace. She needs to know it all if this can work.
>Tell her half the story. She already knows your powers have drawbacks, this is just another case of you pushing too hard. She doesn't need to know the nitty-gritty.
>Reinforce the story. Demons, Psychics, Alternate dimensions either real or imagined. It doesn't matter. She's a firefighter, she's tough. But she's still a regular person, she wouldn't understand.
>Write-In
>>6248425>>Tell her the whole story. John's magic, the tulpa, your mind palace. She needs to know it all if this can work."Can you keep a secret and not tell anyone else?"
Honesty. We're a meta cop and with that comes some stuff that isnt normal when dating a regular cop. She needs to know what she might be in for and if she still wants in.
>>6248425>Tell her the whole story. John's magic, the tulpa, your mind palace. She needs to know it all if this can work.Mark knowingly withholding the truth in a relationship would make him a hypocrite, no?
>>6248425>Tell her the whole story. John's magic, the tulpa, your mind palace. She needs to know it all if this can work.Add:
>What I’m about to say will sound completely insane. I won’t blame you if you don’t believe me. But no matter what you think, please listen until the end.>This kind of thing will probably happen again. If we’re going to make this work then you need to know.
>>6248425>"Well... If you thought the conversation with Rogers was weird, I hope you're ready for this one. Take two more beers from the fridge while I try to figure out what to say">Tell the whole story, but maybe leaving some details out unless she asks for them.Allison doesn't know the full extent of Mark's powers, right? This will be the first time we're willing to tell her all of the weird magic stuff that got linked to him, and on top of that we're going to tell her some of the Gotham Cosmology, demons, Thought forms and weird shit, literally going from 0 to 10.
I'm down with telling her all, but she needs to be eased up first.
>>6248418> a long HalloweenKek
>>6248425>Tell her the whole story. John's magic, the tulpa, your mind palace. She needs to know it all if this can work.BUT
>leave out any sensitive information pertaining to ongoing official police mattersObviously.
>>6248425>Tell her half the story. She already knows your powers have drawbacks, this is just another case of you pushing too hard. She doesn't need to know the nitty-gritty.Seems good enough.
>>6248486>>6248507>>6248520"You might wanna grab another two beers before I get into that."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. It's also the kind of thing that needs to be a secret."
She pushes up from you and slowly makes her way to the kitchen.
"I'm not a gossip. Is it... bad?"
"I wouldn't say bad." You reply grasping the beer by the neck as she returns. "But if you thought the conversation with Rogers was weird then this is gonna sound completely insane. So I wanna just say... I won't blame you if you don't believe me but just hear me out until the end. Please."
She repositions herself, folding her legs beneath herself as she takes a sip. Hey eyes glimmer as they stay locked on you.
"Of course, I asked after all."
One last swig to loosen you up to the truth.
"Alright... well it started at this creepy house just outside the city..."
====
The next few minutes are spent in a stream of consciousness ramble but true to her word Allison stays silent. She only speaks up to ask a few clarifying questions or prompt you to talk further about something. You can't help but notice more than once where her expression shifts to something murky. The demon: Mercury, Constantine's card reading, the tulpa, the lady in red. All moments you saw it shift across her face. By the end her drink is drained and yours sits lukewarm on the coffee table.
"...so I talked until she decided to let me go. Then I woke up and saw you. That's it."
"Wow..." She replies breathlessly. "And it only felt like what, an hour to you?"
"Maybe less. Felt like less." You shake your head. "But that's the entire story. I felt like you deserved to hear all of it. Because to be honest, this kind of thing will probably happen again. If we're gonna make this work then you need to know everything."
"Make this work, huh?" She teases. "You sound invested, Officer."
"You're the one who called yourself my girlfriend at the door."
She opens her mouth to counter but freezes. You see the gears turning as she plays the memory back in her head, you watch as a rising pink tinge covers her face. You lay a hand on her knee and squeeze.
"I didn't correct you, you know?"
The pink settles and deepens as she closes her mouth and gives you a cocked smirk.
"Does that mean I can stay the night? It's a bit late and all..."
"Sure, I work tomorrow though."
"Me too." She counters, leaning forward and delivering a soft kiss. "Thank you for being upfront with me. I don't understand your entire situation still, shit I hardly have my head wrapped around aliens, but I know for sure that you make me feel safe."
"High praise considering I feel like I've got glass bones right now."
She rises with you, rubbing your back gently as you lumber to the bedroom.
"Only for now, come on. Let's get ready for bed, did the doctors give you any instructions?"
"Only one thing, I shouldn't shower alone. I could slip and fall... glass bones and all."
"Stupid..." She laughs, following behind as you start your nightly ritual.
====
TOKimble
md5: a1203d4b5eb5aebf405f0c8741372cd0
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Your sleep is deep and dreamless. Your heart skips a moment when you wake up as the alarm shocks you from the inky blackness of your slumber. Allison shifts next to you as her arm reaches around your torso.
"Y'okay?" She mumbles.
"Yeah.." You reply, getting your heart back under control. "Alarm just got me off guard, I was sleeping good..."
"That's good.." She grumbles.
You rise from the bed and head to the kitchen. Your body still aches and as you walk you feel the weight of your bones beneath the weakened muscle. You flick on your coffee machine and set about the finest breakfast you can manage on a work morning... You silently thank your mom for the four slotted toaster she gave you as a house warming gift, crisping up two bagels.
A half hour later and you're tightening your belt an extra notch to keep your pants snug. Bagel in one hand and the other one Allison's back you both make your way to the street. A pleasant drive, a nice chat about 'being official' and a light kiss later, you watch her drive off before stepping in the doors of the station.
====
The moment your foot hits carpet in the bullpen there's a series of snaps that cause you to tense up, hand moving on instinct before relaxing as you hear Kimble and a small crowd shout: Welcome back!
Kimble, duel wielding confetti pistols, smiles at you. As blue, yellow, and red ribbons rain down around you more than a few officers approach to slap your back or give your hand a quick shake.
"Glad you're back on your feet, rookie." Bunko says, slapping your back. Chen trails behind him with a handshake.
"You know, you gotta choose between being sleeping beauty or prince charming."
Your smile hits wide as you thank everyone who steps up to give you an attaboy.
Kimble approaches last, pistols tucked in the front of his waistband.
"Glad to have you back in the land of the living, boot." He says harshly, then he pulls you into a powerful hug and thuds his fist between your shoulder blades. "I'm gonna get you back for scaring the shit out me like that, you know?"
"Oh yeah?"
"Oh yeah." He replies confidently. "Since you're on light duty and the hospital CC'd Reiner in on your injuries, seeing as they were service related and all, that means your schedule has some wiggle room."
"Wiggle room for what?" You ask, stomach sinking.
"Half of your day is gonna be paperwork. The other half? PT, ran by yours truly."
"You!?" You cough out, smiling. "Don't you have real work to do?"
"I'm on bench for making the 'unilateral' decision to pull Dent's project out of the hangar early, apparently the price of fuel is crazy. Who knew? I got nothing but time."
"Doesn't my therapy need an actual professional watching to make sure I don't get any worse?"
"Covered. I've got a Bachelors in Sports Medicine."
"What."
"GI Bill baby, considered being a personal trainer and did night courses but.. y'know. I liked guns too much." He laughs at his own joke and gives you a reassuring smile.
"Don't worry, I'm gonna work you hard. But it's just because I don't want you back to normal, I want you better than ever. Maybe beefing you up a bit'll help you handle anymore blowouts."
"So... Kimble boot camp?"
"Oh definitely." He confirms. "Oh! Reiner wanted to see you in his office once you got settled in. Banks mentioned wanting to talk to you too, something about his wedding. Either way, I gotta knock out my paperwork so we can get to work today around two. We wrap up at five."
As Kimble walks away he playfully twirls a revolver on his finger and you consider where to pop in next.
>Go to Reiner's office, just good courtesy to see the boss after you've been out.
>Go talk to Banks, fresh out of a coma and he wants to talk to you about his wedding? Must be important.
>Write-In (?)
>>6249015>>Go talk to Banks, fresh out of a coma and he wants to talk to you about his wedding? Must be important.
>>6249015>Go talk to Banks, fresh out of a coma and he wants to talk to you about his wedding? Must be important.
>>6249015>Go talk to Banks, fresh out of a coma and he wants to talk to you about his wedding? Must be important.Is he okay?
>>6249133>>6249135>>6249142Your mind immediately jumps to what could be wrong. You're fresh out of a coma and he wants to talk the wedding, must be serious. You head deeper into the pen, heading for the locker rooms. A familiar voice echoes as you round the corner. Seated on a bench slipping into his boots is Banks.
"There ya are, you're late DeLucia. Usually beat me here by ten minutes."
"Coma'll do that to you."
"Yeah well, I lost half my face. I still came back on time." He teases. "Seriously though, glad to see you back up so fast. Heard you had light duty?"
"Yup. Kimble's gonna train me back up and I'll be back on the beat before long. Hopefully."
"Good, because I figured since you had the free time you could handle something for me."
"Yeah I was told it was wedding related, got me a little worried."
"You're worried? Shit... I'm so tense I can't tell if it's from being excited or terrified."
"Tell me how I can help."
"Simple. The responsibility of any best man, I was gonna bring it up after Halloween but.. y'know." He pulls the laces of his boot tight and stands. "You, my friend, need to start planning the bachelor party."
You let out a huff of laughter.
"I put off seeing Reiner for this, by the way."
"Good call." He jabs back. "This is way more important, you don't have a ton of time. We're hoping to have the ceremony in January."
"That's quick."
"She's an only child and I'm... not close with my family really. We were gonna do something small. Small means quick. Think you can come up with something before too long?"
"Shit, don't have much of a choice. I already said I'd be the best man."
"Yup, you're fucked." He pats you on the shoulder. "Thanks, man."
"Anytime, hit the beat I'll go talk to Reiner."
You split up and head for Reiner's office, giving the glass a delicate tap, he opens it enough to peer out at you.
"DeLucia." He says quietly, the bridge of his nose a deep purple and black. "I wanted to talk to you."
He opens the door and steps aside, letting you in. Your eyes adjust to the typical dimness of his office and you see more clearly the damage. His nose has a nasty knot along the bridge, flanked by a deep bruise with yellowing edges. It's already on the mend.
"When did this-"
"Halloween night. The man from the bridge. Pyotr Osheroff, he was pretty reluctant to say anything to us. I got in the room with him last and..." He gestures to his face. "I guess I still got it. He blabbed in his mother tongue and that's what helped Grey work though his phony ID."
"Who was he pretending to be?"
"Richard Moore, Blackgate CO who worked the same block Osheroff was in. SWAT found him dead in a closet, stripped, and throat slit."
"So this guy..."
"False Face Society apparently. Die-hard follower of Sionus, Black mask, and he has a rap sheet long to back it up. Looks like he was a top enforcer for Mask, former military experience, dishonorable discharge. The usual for the mercs who end up grunts for these guys."
"Makes you miss when it was just muggers and wise guys..." You mumble.
"Spoken like someone who didn't live it." Another voice drifts over.
You spin your head to locate the sound and see the tired face of Commissioner Gordon in Reiner's highbacked chair. His hands work gently as he wipes a cloth across his eyeglasses.
"Commissioner! I'm so sorry I didn't notice you, sir."
"You're fine." Gordon huffs, waving a hand. "Besides I didn't want to interrupt. I'm sure you're eager to get caught up on what you've missed. Please, ask whatever you want. I can wait."
"Well.. I was curious about something I heard actually. Something you could answer Commissioner."
Gordon places his glasses on and raises a brow.
"Go on and ask then, Officer."
"I heard the DA is offering Warden Quinn a deal in exchange for testimony about Mandragora... is that true?"
Gordon silently considers your question for a few seconds before nodding subtly.
"Why? Why not press McCloud or this Pyotr goon?"
"The merc is old school." Reiner answers. "He's not saying anything to us. After our little chat he just decided to throw himself at anyone who even tries to talk to him. He's in special holding now."
"McCloud?"
"Lawyered up. Even before that though he was shaking bad, too scared to say anything. Just kept apologizing."
"Shit..." You murmur.
"Why do you ask, Officer?" Gordon asks.
"Ah.. it's uh. No reason, sir. Just curious."
"Speak your mind, Officer." Gordon insists firmly.
Reiner folds his arms and raises his brow high as he waits.
>"I just think it's a mistake, sir. Warden Quinn, the things he did... he shouldn't get to walk just because he flipped now that it's safe."
>"It's an insult. To Hawthorne. To Us. To Cae-... He's hurt a lot of people. There's no justice letting him wiggle out of it."
>"I don't like it. But I do understand it... I just wish locking down the Mandragora case didn't require it."
>"I don't know enough to speak on it, Commissioner. I shouldn't have said anything, I'm too involved."
>Write-In
>>6249404>"I just think it's a mistake, sir. Warden Quinn, the things he did... he shouldn't get to walk just because he flipped now that it's safe."
>>6249404>"I don't like it, sir. The people that were hurt because of him, helping the man who killed his own daughter and poured money to any foundation so he could sleep. But if it's needed to take Mandragora, I at least hope that the shame he feels would be heavy enough to not make him lift his head again"Disdain for the corrupt. Also, should we show Gordon and Reiner the recorded call with Rogers? I don't remember if we brought the whole Black gate conspiracy to any of them, and if we're really trying to stop it maybe they're the guys to talk to
>>6249404>>"I don't like it, sir. The people that were hurt because of him, helping the man who killed his own daughter and poured money to any foundation so he could sleep. But if it's needed to take Mandragora, I at least hope that the shame he feels would be heavy enough to not make him lift his head again"
>>6249404>"I don't like it, sir. The people that were hurt because of him, helping the man who killed his own daughter and poured money to any foundation so he could sleep. But if it's needed to take Mandragora, I at least hope that the shame he feels would be heavy enough to not make him lift his head again"
>>6249465Do we show Gordon himself the schizo board? The conspiracy web of red strings?
>>6249404>"I just think it's a mistake, sir. Warden Quinn, the things he did... he shouldn't get to walk just because he flipped now that it's safe."Actually walking would be insane considering the sheer scale of his crimes over the years. Even more insane is that Mandagora can somehow dodge the heavy charges even now.
>>6249476It's outdated, the only actual unresolved leads on schizo board are various attempts at Dent's and Wayne's life. Somebody(probably Calc) hired anarkists, somebody(probably Calc) hired the scarecrow to make the gas, then there were the empty property buyouts around gotham, those ones confirmed to be Calc's doing by the signature. Some detectives Grey knows went to investigate the lab a while ago, I assume they are on the trail.
We have our own problems for now.
>>6249465+1
Hello guys, cool quest y'all have here! :)
>>6249404>"It's an insult. To Hawthorne. To Us. To Cae-... He's hurt a lot of people. There's no justice letting him wiggle out of it."I think we're warranted getting a little emotional here.
>>6249404>"It's an insult. To Hawthorne. To Us. To Cae-... He's hurt a lot of people. There's no justice letting him wiggle out of it.">"I just think it's a mistake, sir. Warden Quinn, the things he did... he shouldn't get to walk just because he flipped now that it's safe."
>>6249699This is the Quest that got me into reading /qst/. It’s still my favorite.
>>6249756It's definitely one of the best on the site.
>>6249465>>6249472>>6249475>>6249492>>6249567>>6249699"I don't like it, sir. The people that were hurt because of him, helping the man who killed his own daughter, all while pouring money into foundations so he could sleep.." You trail off, your voice catching a cold edge. "But. If it's needed to take Mandragora down, I at least hope that the shame he feels is heavy enough to keep him from lifting his head again."
"Strong words." Gordon replies stoically. "Commander, I apologize, but may I use your office for a bit?"
"Of course, sir." Reiner replies, giving you a stiff nod as he lets himself out.
"Take a seat, Officer DeLucia." Gordon offers. "I know you want to be caught up on where things are, but before that I want to have a conversation with you."
You sit down and sink into the tough leather. The entire time you feel like a spotlight is on you as Gordon stares you down with a cold analytical glint in his eye. You straighten up as he begins to speak.
"To be perfectly honest with you, I don't like this deal either." He twitches his moustache as he leans forward on the desk. "But even with the video you gave us from inside his office, he's claiming its coerced. He's claiming that even if he DID work for Mandragora the most he did was approve transfers and paroles. No fingerprints on any of the bodies. Nothing outside the realm of white collar."
"That's bullshit..." You whisper. "What about the guard? Moore? He set that up!"
"He and Pyotr Osheroff both deny working together, nothing in his digital footprint lines it up either."
"That's because the warden uses old school methods, we discovered a whole secret mailing system! He must have stashed them somewhere.. in... his office..." Your voice trails off as the pieces click.
"Exactly. With his office mostly soot that gets rid of any chance of that. Osheroff claims he found the guard dead in the riot, took his clothes then and slipped out."
"But the riot didn't even happen until we had cornered Quinn." You counter weakly.
"The alarm system is newly installed and very 'touchy' per Warden Quinn. Tech found that the riot alarm only triggered after an inmate broke a window to the security office. Cameras in the bays were down, of course."
You sink back in your chair feeling more deflated than when you woke from the coma. A hollow sits in your chest as your mind whirs trying to find the angle.
"As the commissioner I shouldn't say this." Gordon begins, his voice quiet and intense. "But I want this son of a bitch to rot for betraying not only us but all of Gotham. But it can't be done, we need to information he brings to the table to make the case against Mandragora absolutely bulletproof. Which it needs to be if we're gonna beat his fancy European lawyers."
"I understand, sir. I'll ge-"
"But unfortunately." Gordon cuts you off. "We only have the Warden to give us the details on Mandragora's operation, but if there was someone else..."
"Someone else..." You trail off, mind turning the pieces. "Someone like SIM?"
"I'd wager that would pique the interest of the DA, especially with some prodding from my end."
"But wouldn't that just lead to the same issue?"
"Different leagues, Officer. I think offering life instead of the needle is better than going from a twenty year charge to a three year stint in Club Fed." He raises a hand. "Not to imply that's the deal being offered, I'm not allowed to disclose that of course. But if we could get our hands on Rogers then maybe he could be our stand in."
"You think he'd agree to flip?"
"From your reports, he doesn't seem to be a huge fan of his old man. And judging from the tape Grey played for me yesterday, he also seems to have a bit of a soft spot for you."
"How do we convince Dent to fund the task force?"
"I'm not. I didn't say we need to catch him. I said we need to get our hands on him."
"Excuse me? So you won't ask Dent?"
"It'd be a waste of time trying to convince him, he's impossible to speak with ever since the issue with the Warden went public. He's working like a man possessed, this idea of mine is as much for him as it is for us."
"We get Rogers to flip and it clears Dent to throw the book at Warden Quinn."
"And the 'SIM Killer' spends the rest of his life in a MaxSec Facility if not Arkham."
"Two birds with one stone... but what are you asking me? If I'll do it?"
"I'm just thinking out loud, Officer. It wouldn't do for the Commissioner of the GCPD to imply that sometimes, despite it's necessity, the law needs to be bent. So no, this isn't a call to action. Just a... state of the union. For an injured Officer catching back up." He leans back and studies you as he waits for an answer.
>"Hypothetically speaking then, sir. It'd be best if Kimble stayed on light duty... for my PT, of course.">"Speaking out loud as well then, the thing I missed most while in the coma were my friends. Would be nice if we had the time to hang out...>"I'm not comfortable with the idea of bending the law, but I've heard talk of some people who are. A man with no face and a woman with a crossbow, you buy into those rumors?">"Well, part of why I need to catch back up is a problem I helped our mutual friend solve. Is he up for this? This type of thing should be child's play for him right?">"Respectfully, sir. I disagree. I think it's important the letter of the law is respected as much as the spirit. You bend rules. You can only break laws. We should leave this between the DA and Dent.">Write-In>>6249756>>6249836>>6249699Thank you for the kind words, much appreciated! Glad you're enjoying the story.
>>6249476>>6249488Maybe it's time for it to be updated...
>>6249929>"That's because the warden uses old school methods, we discovered a whole secret mailing system! He must have stashed them somewhere.. in... his office..." Your voice trails off as the pieces click.>"Exactly. With his office mostly soot that gets rid of any chance of that. Osheroff claims he found the guard dead in the riot, took his clothes then and slipped out.">"But the riot didn't even happen until we had cornered Quinn." You counter weakly.>"The alarm system is newly installed and very 'touchy' per Warden Quinn. Tech found that the riot alarm only triggered after an inmate broke a window to the security office. Cameras in the bays were down, of course."Could we have thwarted this by finding the correct evidence with our choices? And if so, at what cost?
>>6249932>"I'm not comfortable with the idea of bending the law, but I've heard talk of some people who are. A man with no face and a woman with a crossbow, you buy into those rumors?"QM, does Question still have the Iranian Carpet? If so, can we hand that over to Gordon? Or is that tainted evidence at this point?
QM Curse might actually be real. My dog I've had since I was 15 had to be put down tonight. No update because I honestly just don't feel like writing tonight. We should be back on Sunday night.
>>6250291Understandable. I'm really sorry to hear it, QM.
>>6250154>Or is that tainted evidence at this point?The Vigilante Act or whatever is still in effect, right?
>>6250291Oh god, I'm so sorry.
I've had my corgi for 4 years and im lowkey dreading the day in the future.
Show off your boi so we can remember him.
>>6250291No worries QM. Take all the time you need. We’ll still be here.
>>6249932He wants to get the guy who is completely off his rocker and convinced the entire city is gonna fucking explode to rat out his dad because he hates him? That sounds like an awful plan, honestly. I would think it more likely that Rogers would stall and try to drag out the case as long as he can so that Mandragora would die with the city rather than play along. This kind of hinges on the city not exploding or getting moon crushed or whatever as well as actually nabbing Rogers and his testimony not being so deranged as to get thrown out as a genuine loon. Which if he shows up to court covered in tally marks and starts a schizo ramble is pretty much a guarantee. Even if SIM brings some physical evidence to the table Mandragora's lawyers could probably spin some bullshit about an obviously insane mind doing obviously insane things and being obviously unrelated to the pale bastard and have a decent chance of having it dismissed. I don't quite like those odds.
>>6250291Ah fuck man that's rough. Don't feel bad taking a long break if you need to. That shit hurts.
>>6250154Oh, and I totally forgot to vote, but I (
>>6250297 on mobile) will back
>>6250154
>>6250154+1
>>6250291QM Curse is a real thing. It has been proven time and time again and I am convinced
Putting it off one more day, apologies. We resume tomorrow, I promise. In exchange for this delay, I'll do as
>>6250305 said and post a picture here of him. This was a bit after I got him as a puppy back in 2013.
>>6251768All good QM.
He was the best of boys.
>>6251768Cutest of bois.
RIP.
>>6251768He looks like he was a sweetie. RIP to your friend... We'll see you when you're ready, QM.
>>6250154>>6250476>>6250478You shift in your seat slightly. Your eyes scan the desk before meeting Gordon's.
"I'm not comfortable with the idea of bending the law... but I've heard talk of some people who are."
"Oh?" Gordon hums.
"A man with no face and a woman with a crossbow."
"I believe I have an APB out currently on a woman with a crossbow..." Gordon murmurs as he strokes his chin. "I've been... made aware of your friendships outside the department."
"You-" You begin but stop short. "Ah.. makes sense. Our-"
"Mutual friend, exactly. He also informed me that you've essentially wrangled them. Not a single body since that night you found the cache of SIM cards, not even Mandragora's." He pauses to look at you, more analytical this time. "You're working out just as Commander Reiner hoped."
"I'm sorry, sir?"
"Do you remember when the academy ended? All of you had to write a paper, an essay, on what it meant for you to be a police officer?"
"Yes?"
"Well all of those are made available to myself and each of the Watch Commanders. Reiner found yours particularly... inspiring. So he set you up with some trouble officers and low and behold, you manage to do what he was hoping with all three. We both had worries about Hawthorne but working with you he managed to maybe get some closure on that chapter of his life. Kimble was having cooperation and control issues with other officers after graduating the TO program under Hawthorne, since working with you both he's settled a lot more nicely in team dynamics. Reiner attributes both to your influence and after having seen you on the job these past few days, I'd have to agree."
"Sir, that's very kind of you. But I'm just doing my job, I-"
"I know what you did. On Halloween." Gordon says, holding up a hand. "I know that you chose the coma to give him a better chance of handling whatever it was at Arkham. You helped a friend and I think that earns you a little leeway, I'll open the umbrella on the Vigilante Act. Anything Question or The Huntress brings us, I'll stick my neck out for them. That means you need to keep them from acting out, but seeing as they've been essentially ghosts since you involved them I don't see it being an issue."
"And if they already have some evidence to turn in?"
"The roof. At the base of the signal there's a metal box, anything left in there I'll bring in. No questions asked. I'm the only one with a key to get up there so they'll need to figure that part out themselves. But I doubt it'll be a problem."
"Understood... but you should know their evidence could help with Blackgate. Maybe it could affect Warden Quinn's deal... just in case."
"In case what? Speak freely, Officer."
"In case SIM can't be useful... no offense sir but your plan sounds... unlikely. He's nuts, I mean he's convinced the city is going to explode or be flattened. He's carving lines into his skin for every person he kills, anything he brings is tainted by the fact his brain is full of holes."
"Is that so?" Gordon mumbles. "Officer DeLucia, do you know why the department is lacking in funds?"
"Because Dent is allocating them elsewhere. Into other programs."
"That's right, did you know one of those programs is cutting edge therapeutics and psychological medicine? Grants and studies that draw in some of the brightest neuroscientists and psych professionals? Don't forget either, Rogers managed to blend in perfectly for months. He's deluded. Not deranged." Gordon chuckles slightly, his moustache twitching. "Besides, it's not like he'd be the first mentally disturbed person we've put in open court. It's a sad fact but our system is the best equipped to deal with these cases."
"I hear you, sir. But I just don't see it playing out. What's to stop him from just stalling since he thinks doomsday is coming anyways, just wait out the clock and take Mandragora with him?"
Gordon considers your point for a moment, jaw shifting slightly as he drums his fingers. After a few seconds of sustained silence he picks up Reiner's phone and punches a few numbers.
"Commissioner Manfretti, it's Gordon... Mhm. She's fine, thank you. Sorry to bother you but this isn't a personal call, I have a high risk convict that needs holding out of Jersey until further notice... Uh-huh... Well, could it be up to four months? Fed is babysitting, yup. None of your manpower... That'd be perfect, I'll get the paperwork faxed over."
Gordon sets the phone down lightly and looks up with steepled hands.
"Mandragora'll be shipped across the river to be held until his trial. As for it not playing out? We'll never be one hundred percent sure, Officer DeLucia. The best we can ever do is stack our deck, don't miss the forest for the trees, catching SIM still takes a dangerous man off the street. Even if we can't end up using him or his testimony."
You only nod as a dull warmth spreads up your neck.
"Yes, sir. You're right."
"Now I only have one more question for you, Officer. I want your honest answer as well." Gordon straightens up. "This 'Doomsday' Rogers has been talking about, one of your reports said you saw the same vision. How serious of a threat is this? Do I need to be looking into evacuating the city? Setting measures?"
>"I don't know, sir. I don't know if I saw it myself or only seeing what he saw, like you said we can't be one hundred percent."
>"I think it's better to be safe than sorry, I've never dealt with a city-wide event but I know you have. Trust your gut, sir."
>"No, I think his power is... corrupted somehow. The things I see and what I hear seems completely different to what he does. Only mine's been proven accurate and his hasn't... yet."
>Write-In (After this conversation you'll be leaving the office so if you have any further questions for Gordon, use this.)
>>6252194>Ask Batman and his "wizard friend"... Follow their lead. City-annihilating mystical crises are their jurisdiction. Nabbing killers on the beat is mine.
>>6252204+1
I don't think we have any way to reach the actual depths of Gotham City itself to access the doomsday artifact that is priming to either drop the moon on Gotham or to detonate into a chaos nuke. If it's really a Darkseid box then we're fucked
>>6252192>So he set you up with some trouble officers and low and behold, you manage to do what he was hoping with all three.Was the last one grey?
>>6252194this
>>6252204>>6251768RIP, good boy. You'll play happily in heaven.
>>6252215>>6252204It occurred to me, but do you guys think it is too metagamey to maybe pass on the bad box vibes from earlier to Batman?
>>6252216Its not. We already know that gordon has a direct line to batman, we can leave what we know with the commissioner so that batman might have an idea of what hes heading into.
>>6252215Your original options for a Teaching Officer were:
Hawthorne
Kimble
Gorchakov
>>6252227So I guess the Gorchakov solution would be to push his shit figuratively in? Possibly in two different meanings?
>>6252216Not in the least. You don't need to exist outside the fiction (ie be "meta') to respect the Justice League, or to realize the actual sorcerer we met or the bat-themed vigilant who fought the city's tulpa and is best buds with a godlike alien might be better-suited to this. If Russia invades, you call the DOD. If cosmic superbeings invade, you call the JLA.
>>6249932>his life in a MaxSec Facility if not ArkhamHis powers are tied to gotham, just move him into another state and he's powerless. Please for fuck sake.
>>6252194Gordon is gigabased as usual
>Ask Batman and his "wizard friend"... Follow their lead. City-annihilating mystical crises are their jurisdiction.>Sure, I saw moon fall on Gotham in a dream. But nothing besides that. Might be just some sort of prophetic metaphor, who knows. Most reliable things my visions can do is letting me see someone's PoV, and that wasn't it.
>>6252518QM is based as well. Can't forget that.
>>6252204>>6252205>>6252215>>6252518"To be honest with you sir, I saw the moon fall on Gotham in a dream. But nothing besides that. I don't know if it was prophetic or anything, or a metaphor cause my brain likes those too. The most reliable thing my visions can do it let me see from someone's PoV, and that wasn't one of those cases."
"Ah, I see."
"Sorry, sir. Maybe ask Batman and his 'wizard friend... They'll probably give you a better lead to follow. They handle this type of thing, I handle the beat."
"Wizard?" Gordon mumbles, but he seems to quickly move past the question. "Well, if you don't seem too bothered about it I'll pass it along to him. Play it by ear. Still, most Rookies would be jumping for joy at the chance to work with 'him' or to be in the fold on something like this. It's the type of case that makes the front page.
You can't help but let out a dry laugh.
"I'm just interested in doing my job, sir. It's important to me that I'm out there dealing with the day to day, not just the task forces or the special cases."
"For someone who's a bit of a special case himself, you seem to go against that idea often."
"That's just not why I joined the police, sir." You begin, shifting in your seat. "To be perfectly honest, I'm interested in getting wins for the GCPD. Not my personal glory, the story from Halloween night? I bet it was: GCPD Officers Extract Warden from Active Riot."
"Something like that." Gordon huffs, amused.
"Before that it was: GCPD dismantles Mandragora Cartel or something. Wins. Not for Batman or Dent or anyone else. The GCPD. Because, God forbid, anything ever happens to Batman or Dent or even you... we need them to be confident in the institution. Not one hero."
"Butter me up, why don't you, Officer? Hero, eh?"
"Speaking generally, sir... not that you aren't a.. yeah."
Gordon reacts to your floundering with a warm laugh.
"At ease, Officer. I get your point, I also understand I've taken up enough of your time. Inform your contacts about the collection box by the signal, help us shore up any back up plans we may need. As for you, I believe you have more pressing things to handle. We'll speak again sometime, I'm sure." He rises and offers you a hand which you shake vigorously.
"Thank you, sir."
You part ways and as you step outside the dim office into the blindingly illuminated bullpen you feel a file touch your chest as Reiner presses it forwards.
"I put this together for you, it's a brief on things that went down while you were in the hospital, Grey helped me with it, anything that we thought you'd want to be in the loop on is in there. There's also... one last thing." His voice gets slightly quieter now and his face softens near indiscernibly. "We figured it'd be best if it were you to do it."
"Do what?" You ask slowly. A strange tingling coming over you.
"The Garcia Family needs to be given notice."
"The Garc-, Caesar? It's been three days and you haven't told them!?" Your voice rises slightly but you catch yourself when Reiner holds up a cautioning hand lightly.
"Department policy when it comes to mass casualty events, Officer DeLucia. This time I'll let that slide but going forward I expect professionalism from you when you receive your assignments. Understood?"
"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."
"No need to apologize, I want you to learn from this. This is the worst day of that families lives and you're going to see countless more 'worst days' in your, hopefully, long career. This is, in my personal opinion, the hardest part of the job. So that's why we don't go it alone, name who you want and I'll clear them to accompany you."
>"Hawthorne... I'm assuming he's done more than one of these. He's good at the whole... stoic thing."
>"Kimble, the military has like a whole guidebook on this kind of thing right?"
>"Grey, I know the detectives usually do notification of kin. He could help me along."
>Write-in
>>6252722>>"Hawthorne... I'm assuming he's done more than one of these. He's good at the whole... stoic thing."Hes has the most interaction with the garcias apart from us. He'd understand but also know what needs to be done and how to do it.
>>6252722>"Hawthorne... I'm assuming he's done more than one of these. He's good at the whole... stoic thing."
>>6252727+1
>"Sir, is it alright if I check the booking facility for any personal items Valantine Garcia had when he was brought in custody?"
>>6252905Wise write-in
+1 to add this on
Should we lie? That he died during the prison and riot and not that he was murdered due to word getting out that he was gonna tattle.
>>6253031No. Boy Scout for life.
>>6253031Nah. But we can at least tell Caesar that we got the guy.
>>6252727>>6252737>>6252773>>6252866"Hawthorne... I'm assuming he's done more than one of these. He's also good at the whole... stoic thing."
"It's not stoicism. It's professionalism. I don't expect my officers to be unfeeling robots, that wouldn't make you a better cop, in fact that might be worse than the alternatives. I do, however, expect what's going on in here." He taps his temple. "To not affect what's going on out there."
"I understand, sir. Would it be possible for me to look into any personal effects he may have had from when he was taken into custody however long ago?"
"We've got that handled, it's all been catalogued and anything that's been cleared should be available at the evidence room. Just ask for the cleared items, I'll send Hawthorne to meet you there." He pats you on the shoulder and holds your gaze for a moment.
You meet his eyes and do your best to wipe any dread or worry from your face. You breath slowly to untangle the knot in your gut and Reiner nods shallowly.
"Carry on, Officer DeLucia."
"Yes, sir."
He walks away and you go on auto-pilot as you navigate the pen and it's connecting halls. Your mind bounces from thought to thought, what do you say? Is it better to rip the band-aid off? Maybe you should lie... make it easier on them. You think of Caesar's little sister, how the hell do you explain something like this to a kid? Do you even have to? Maybe you can just tell the mom and let her handle the kids.
"Officer?"
A voice shakes you from your fog as your eyes refocus on the portly man behind the counter, surrounded by steel mesh and a small tray at the bottom. You clear your throat and straighten up.
"Sorry about that, uh... I need the cleared items for Garcia, V. Homicide Victim from Halloween Night."
A few key-strokes later and the man behind the counter clicks his tongue.
"Ah. One of the Blackgate vics... Uh-huh. Got it here, one second." He rises from his stool and vanishes amidst cheap shelving and plastic containers. He eventually returns with a plastic bag, which he slides through the gap in his window, as he pulls a tag off it and reads:
"We got.... One Wristwatch, non-functioning. One wallet containing: fifty bucks and various effects. One necklace, silver, religious. And... one silver flip-phone, functioning at time of confiscation." He glances up at you. "Sound right?"
"I don- I'm sure it's fine." You half heartedly mumble as you pick up the bag.
"If anything is missing the family'll put in a request. I'll make sure it gets through." A rough voice offers from behind you. "Y'hear that Williams?"
"Yes, Sergeant." The man behind the counter replies with a curt nod.
Hawthorne puts a hand on your shoulder and speaks firmly but not unkindly.
"C'mon. It's time to go."
====
The drive is quiet. You behind the wheel while Hawthorne goes through some of the belongings. His thick fingers probes through the wallet.
"Sir? Is it... usual to do that?"
>>6252868>>6252884>>6252905>>6252956"I'm checking for anything his family may not wanna see. Once handed a widow her husbands wallet and a matchbook for a local strip joint fell out. Jesus Christ..." He trails off, shaking his head. "That's the kind of thing you only learn from experience."
You grunt in response, accepting his logic, and just look back to the road. Hawthorne glances at you and then sighs.
"Alright. We're close enough, stop the car."
"Sir? Shouldn't w-"
"You want them looking out the window? Knowing they'll be getting some news, seeing us huddled up in the cruiser sharing a game plan? The worst part... is not knowing. Let's not pile it on em. Pull over here, this is fine."
You shift the wheel and pull into the parking lot of a nearly empty gas station. Hawthorne hands you the bag and leans forward, speaking to you with a firm and calm voice. Every word enunciated clearly.
"First thing. When you break the news to em, you tell them straight. He's dead. He isn't gone. We didn't lose him. He didn't pass on anywhere. He died. You say that and you leave it at that, if they want details they'll ask you for em."
"Am I supposed to give that out?"
"Your call. If you think they can take it. If you think it'll help. If you don't, just tell em that it's an ongoing investigation and they can reach out to the coroners office for more details. You know the number?"
"No, sir."
"Learn it." He grunts, handing you a business card. Old and creased. "Second thing. This isn't about you and I don't say that to be a dick, it's just the truth. They lost a father. A husband. A person they've known their entire lives and it's gonna hurt when you watch em break down over this. But you have to shut that down for yourself."
"Shut it down? Shut what down?"
"All of it. Not a tear drop. Not a hug. Not a hand on the shoulder. You are here to deliver this to them, if they want your comfort they'll make it clear to you. But you aren't there to be their friend, you're there to let them know what happened and tell them what the GCPD is gonna do about it."
"So just.. cut and dry? Professional and cold?"
"I understand this is personal. But the only thing that's gonna bring them comfort is seeing the prick who killed Valentine in a box or behind bars and even that isn't gonna be enough. This is a hole in their lives that ain't ever gonna close all the way, Mark. Don't play surgeon." His words are gruff and blunt but you can feel the warmth below them. This is as much to protect you as it is them.
As you start the car and pull back onto the road Hawthorne offers another quiet word.
"Look... nobody would know if you sat in the cruiser. Let me handle this. Even if they did know, nobody would judge you." He holds up a hand as you open your mouth. "Don't say anything. Just mull it over as we go, but if you are gonna do it then run your first attempt by me before we go in. Alright? Like practicing in a mirror."
=====
As inappropriate as the name is for something like this, I feel the 'Next of Kin' discussion should be handled in our "Social Boss Fight" format. So I will break down how that works since it's been a minute. This is a three stage vote. You only need to vote for what you care about, but you can vote for all three if you’re so inclined. Attitude, General, and Verbatim. Attitude will be the only vote that has a "winner", submissions for others will ALL be included/touched upon (within reason). Feel free to +1 if you don’t wanna type anything.
Attitude: The general mindset Mark has going into the conversation and will direct how he responds to certain things. This is to avoid stopping the conversation every couple back-and-forths for a dialogue wheel vote.
General: Got something you want brought up in the conversation? Want to say something specific but don't want to do a write-in style vote where you type it as Mark would say it? Vote general and then include what you want to come up, I'll make sure it gets touched on.
Verbatim: Your usual Write-In Style answer where you write as Mark would speak. Want him to say something specifically? Vote Verbatim and drop your lines.
=====
[Conversation Attitude]
>By The Book, Hawthorne broke it down for you. Step by step. Just follow his instructions and keep it professional and clinical, they need to see strength now.
>Personal Bond, You'd go as far as to call Caesar a friend. You'll level with him, with his dad out of the picture it really is up to him to be the man his family needs.
>Empathy Core, You're in-tune with the emotions and memories of the entire city. You can't help but to feel, but maybe that's what they need. Someone who saw Valentine for more than a hood or a convict. A shoulder to cry on.
>Back-up, You aren't sure you could handle being the one to tell it all to them, but hiding is cowardly. Maybe Hawthorne should take the lead while you stand behind him. A comforting presence hopefully.
>Write-In
>General:
>Verbatim:
>"I think maybe you should handle it yourself, sir. I'll wait in the cruiser..."
>>6253144>Once handed a widow her husbands wallet and a matchbook for a local strip joint fell out.That's fucking terrible, I shouldn't be laughing so hard at this.
>>6253145>By The Book, Hawthorne broke it down for you. Step by step. Just follow his instructions and keep it professional and clinical, they need to see strength now.>General: Make sure to mention that Caesar's killer is behind bars, then ask if Mrs. Chavez if she or the kids need anything after she's had a moment to compose herself.It'll never feel right, but it is the way to go about it I feel. They don't need to be placated and they don't need a friend right now. They need the truth and they need time, in that order.
>>6253145>By the BookWe asked for Hawthorne's take- no reason not to use it. We can get creative whenever we have the training wheels off.
>>6253145>Attitude: By the book + A little of Empathy CoreWe've shown ourselves as an Empathic cop who tried to befriend not only Caesar but all the family, if we go full robocop with no small amount of empathy it would look like we're scrubbing our hands off of it.
>General: Mention the killer is behind bar, and the man who is guilty for all this to happen (The Warden) is also fucked, even if they already saw the news. Also once they've calmed down, say we're going to visit later>Verbatim: >Victor was murdered in cold blood by thugs, the same ones that secretly ran Blackgate, like Mandragora>I was there with officer Hawthorne that night, we were the ones to catch the suspects and believe me, all the precinct is working hard enough to make Victor's killer the life sentence until he rots in a cellIdk if they're all appropriated to say, desu. I'm just hoping that we can visit them later and have a real more real and personal talk with the Mom and Caesar
>>6253145>Start By The Book, then put a bit of Empathy Core for the latter half.Maybe later once this is wrapped up, we take Caesar out to the liquor store, get a small bottle of what his dad liked, and show him how we honor Nonno's memory. It might help him start to feel like he's beginning to become an adult if we give him an adult way to mourn his father.
>>6253258>>6253270>>6253451The cruiser rolls to a slow stop and you take a breath to prepare yourself.
"I can do it." You say to Hawthorne. "I don't need to practice. You made it clear."
He doesn't reply, he simply pulls his sergeant's cap firmly over his head and steps into the brisk morning air. You follow. The approach to the building is filled with you running through an internal script. Trying to find some magic combination of words that make it easier to hear. You don't have much luck...
"When she opens the door, take your hat off." Hawthorne whispers.
"Why?"
"Respect... it's also a signal. The police come to visit you and they take em off before talking? It's not much. But a couple seconds to prepare for the bad news is better than nothing."
"Understood." You mumble in return.
You both straighten up as you stop in front of the apartment door. You glance to Hawthorne and he gives you an encouraging pat on the back.
"No more stalling, son. Let's get it done."
You don't answer. You just raise your hand and knock firmly on the door. Time seems to crawl as you push and drag your fingertips against sweaty palms. A click. The door begins to open and you see his motion in your periphery and follow through, removing your hat and holding it by your waist. True to his word you watch as Bianca's eyes track your hat down to your waist, the lower rim of her eyelid flooding near instantly.
"Ma'am." You begin, croaking through a dry and tight throat. "Ma'am. I'm sorry to inform you, your husband Valentine Garcia, was killed during the Blackgate Riot on Halloween night."
Her jaw falls open, twitching and shuddering as she curls her lips into an expression of anguish. She grips the doorframe until her knuckles grow pale and keeps the sobs at bay with deep shuddering breaths. You fight every muscle telling you to reach out and offer some form of comfort. It doesn't get any easier to resist when you see Caesar appear behind her, his own face confused, scared, and staring past her at the two of you. You can see it clear as day. He knows. His legs shake and his chin crinkles as he reaches out and lightly touches his mother. He's rapidly pulled into a tight hug as he sags into her.
You move your arm an inch to reach out and you feel Hawthorne's fingers clamp around your sleeve. You glance at him and he keeps his eyes dead forward, focused on a point that only he can see. You swallow hard and force out the rest of the words.
"We're also here to return his personal effects that were taken off of him before his incarceration. We also wanted to inform you that the GCPD has already apprehended the man responsible."
Bianca lifts her head slightly, the tears flow freely now in two small rivulets, her hand slowly reaches out and accepts the bag from Hawthorne's hands. He bows his head slightly before stepping back into the hall. Caesar looks up at you his own face crinkled as he hiccups trying to calm his own breathing.
You give him a light nod. The only comfort you can offer right now.
"Caesar... I uh, I'm sorry about your dad. He loved you." You look up to Bianca. "He loved all of you. Really."
His mother sniffles deeply and straightens up a bit, her fingers still crushing the plastic bag.
"Thank you.." She whispers. "We knew something... was wrong when he didn't.."
She gets choked up again and now it's Caesar who straightens up, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand as he gently laces his fingers with hers and squeezes. He whispers in soft Spanish to her and she nods.
"Can we see him?" Caesar asks. "Is that allowed?"
Hawthorne speaks up before you can begin formulating an answer.
"I'm sorry, but while his possessions have been cleared to be returned it'll take another couple days to process him along with everyone else involved in the riots. Officer DeLucia has your number though, so as soon as we're able to we'll release him back to you so you can hold a service."
Caesar goes to retort but just closes his mouth and nods. His expression is almost dazed, his eyes have the same distance you've seen before on others. He'll wait until he's alone to let this really hit.
"Caesar, if it's okay with you and your mother I could stop by later tonight? We could talk some more."
Hawthorne gives you a look from the corner of his eye but keeps his thoughts to himself.
"Si." His mom whispers. "I think now though I need... I need to lay down. I'm sorry."
She steps away rapidly leaving Caesar holding the door, the moments she rounds the corner you can hear the racking sobs from deep in her chest echoing off the walls. You all three stand there in a triangle of awkward lingering silence until Hawthorne sniffs once.
"Again, I'm sorry for your loss, Caesar. You need anything just give Officer DeLucia here a call and I'll be right there with him."
"Thanks..." Caesar half-heartedly mumbles, looking at the floor.
"And take care of that sister of yours." Hawthorne adds on before putting his cap back on with a very quiet. "She looks just like her dad..."
You raise your cap and feel your sleeve pulled again, this time by Caesar.
"D... I got- I just... I wanna know what happened. With my dad... was he- shit." He wipes a tear away. "Just what happened man? Please..."
You glance at Hawthorne but he just holds your stare. Waiting.
>"Your father... died of blood loss after his throat was cut. We believe it was ordered by the Warden or another shot-caller in the prison who had found out he was going to testify to the corruption going on in Blackgate."
>"This is the number for the coroner's office. I can't tell you anything else, Caesar I'm sorry."
>"Sorry, Caesar. Your mom is next of kin and that info... the question has to come from her. I'm sorry."
>Write-In
>>6253651>"Your father... died of blood loss after his throat was cut. We believe it was ordered by the Warden or another shot-caller in the prison who had found out he was going to testify to the corruption going on in Blackgate."The boy just lost his Father. I don't really see a reason to give him the runaround, even on the off chance he takes a shit lesson from all this.
>>6253651>"Caesar... You're going to hate me, I know you are willing and ready to stop being a kid and being a Man, maybe you don't wanna be left out of the loop, but being a Man also means you need to be wise, so I hope you're wise enough to learn this: Sometimes is good not knowing everything, specially when you're young... Think about it, and when I come later and you still wanna know, I'll tell you."I wanna tell him, but I want him to be SURE this is what he wants. The last thing I want is for him to go "Oh a Gang did this, so I need to get back into Anarky and kill people from Mandragora/Black mask"
>>6253651>"Your father... died of blood loss after his throat was cut. We believe it was ordered by the Warden or another shot-caller in the prison who had found out he was going to testify to the corruption going on in Blackgate."He can see for himself the headlines that come up in the next few days. He’ll know that his father’s death isn’t going unanswered. He should also know that his dad died doing the right thing, not as a random casualty of a riot.
After we leave, turn to Hawthorn:
>”I know it’s a hard story for you to tell, but do you think sharing your history with the warden would help him? He should know he’s not the only one hurting here… and not the only one who’s been vindicated with the warden’s arrest.”
>>6253663+1
Also we explicitly promised Val we'd do right by his family for him to even agree to the deal at all, remember.
>>6253663+1.
I wonder what Val saw in Saint Francis, to carry a pendant of him around... Hope either him or Saint Dismas have taken him under their patronage.
>>6253663>>6253653>>6253663>>6253691>>6253747Guys, it's an ongoing investigation.
>>6253651>>6253662 +1, but make it clear that we can't tell him everything until we're sure everyone involved is properly held accountable. If we start sharing too much, we risk screwing up and letting the bastard responsible get away with this. We don't intend to let that happen.
>>6253662+1
Pretty sure we shouldn’t tell a kid how the prison warden collaborated to kill his dad, especially considering that it’s an active case.
If we do tell him we should probably genericise it until we get the all clear from the powers that be.
>>6253662Yeah lets not give him the specifics.
>+1 to this
>>6253927>>6254015>>6254245>>6254267>>6255333>>6253662>>6253791The words are like bitter medicine creeping up from the back of your throat. But you swallow the discomfort and speak gently.
"Caesar... you're gonna hate me, I know you're willing and able to stop being a kid and start being a man."
"D, don-" You cut him off with a gentle hand, his eyes brim with more tears.
"I know you don't wanna be left out of the loop but being a man also means being wise. So I'm gonna share some wisdom with you, sometimes it's good not knowing everything, especially when you're young. Take it from someone who's known too much his entire life." This is when you reach out, giving his shoulder a firm squeeze. "Think about what I said, I'll be by later and if you still wanna know, I'll tell you. Alright?"
He holds for a second as he takes in your words. His eye leaks a hot tear and he wipes it away before it has a chance to leave a trail and he meets your eyes, for the briefest moment they glow with that familiar hot hate you saw in Firebug and for a moment you feel that familiar warmth and heat in your chest. Then it fades and his eyes turn downcast as that ephemeral anger is swallowed by grief. He nods.
"Yeah.. aight." He sniffles and takes a step back from you, letting your hand drift off his shoulder. "I'll think about it. For real."
You give him the best smile you can muster and give him a respectful nod back.
"I'll see you soon, Caesar."
"Yeah." He replies distantly as he lets the door close.
Hawthorne shifts next to you as he pulls his radio from his belt.
"Dispatch, show us clear on the notification. Coming back in."
"Copy." They reply.
Hawthorne turns and jerks his head in a sign to follow. You can't see his eyes under the brim of his hat but you just might see the ghost of a smile on the corner of his mouth. Hopefully that means you did good...
====
"So. You plan on visiting after-hours?" Hawthorne asks you, breaking the silence that settled for most of the drive back.
"Yeah, just feel... responsible."
"Oh?"
"I mean. You gave me lead and I made the call to talk to him. That led to him telling us about Blackgate and that's probably what ended up getting him..." You trail off. "I promised him I'd look out for his family. So I plan on honoring that."
"Hm.." Hawthorne grumbles to himself as he stares ahead. "I think it's a good idea."
"You do?"
"Yeah." He says simply. "Kid's gonna need someone in his corner. He's about to be 18 and his skill set so far is hustling fruit and organizing spray paintings. He's gonna need steering in the right direction... and any machismo about avenging his dad? You gotta squash that. Otherwise it'll just... it'll eat him up."
"I was thinking about that too. So I wanted to ask you something."
"Ask me what?"
"I know it's personal, but do you think if I told him about your story that it would help him? Show him that he's not the only one hurting from this and show him that if you can find some peace in the Warden's arrest that maybe he could too?"
Hawthorne's jaw sets for a moment and then as quickly as it happened he relaxes.
"Tell him." He says simply.
"Are you sure? I don't wan-"
"Tell the kid. If you think it'll help, tell him." He replies gruffly, his tone making it clear there's no more back and forth to be had here.
"Yes, sir." You tell him, waiting a few seconds before adding. "Thank you, sir."
====
The engine dies in the motorbay, the rumbling echo dying off as you both step out of the cruiser. You make your way to the elevator when his phone buzzes, he withdraws it and glances at the screen. His foot stops short of the parting doors as he looks up at you and wiggles the phone.
"Go on up. My son's calling."
"Your son?"
"Yeah yeah, pat yourself on the back. Go up. If you can't work SIM then Grey is dealing with ARGUS pencil pushers, you could save him. Or better yet, get a jump on your PT with Kimble."
He steps back before you can answer and puts the phone to his ear. Grunting a hello as he waves for you to go up. The elevator doors shut and as you rattle your way back to the lobby you decide to...
>Check in on Grey, if he's dealing with ARGUS maybe you can find out more about the last loose ends from Mandragora's cartel.
>Find Kimble, You're weak. Worse than that, you're unfocused with all these aches and the fatigue. You need to get back up to fighting shape so you can hit the beat again.
>Spend some time alone, Locker rooms should be cleared out right now. Dealing with Caesar and just... everything after waking up. You need a couple minutes to let your brain digest the past couple days.
>Write-In
>>6255506>Find Kimble, You're weak. Worse than that, you're unfocused with all these aches and the fatigue. You need to get back up to fighting shape so you can hit the beat again.A good run will do away with all the bad stuff. Kimble would be a good person to talk to about this as well, he’s probably had to do this before.
>>6255506>Write-InFind Banks. Maybe focusing on something civilian will help get Mark into a better headspace.
>>6255506>>Find Kimble, You're weak. Worse than that, you're unfocused with all these aches and the fatigue. You need to get back up to fighting shape so you can hit the beat again.
>>6255506>Find Kimble, You're weak. Worse than that, you're unfocused with all these aches and the fatigue. You need to get back up to fighting shape so you can hit the beat again.
>>6255506>Spend some time alone, Locker rooms should be cleared out right now. Dealing with Caesar and just... everything after waking up. You need a couple minutes to let your brain digest the past couple days.Reflect.
>>6255506>Spend some time alone, Locker rooms should be cleared out right now. Dealing with Caesar and just... everything after waking up. You need a couple minutes to let your brain digest the past couple days.
>>6255551>>6255593>>6255647Find Kimble. All the shaking from the elevator just reminds you how unsteady you feel on your legs, even putting your arm to the wall leaves you feeling off balance and weak. You need to get back to fighting shape, the sooner you do that the sooner you get to go back to the beat. The elevator dings and the doors open and the warm lights of the garage hit your face as you make your way back to the gatekeeper of the motorbay, Officer Mendez.
"Good to see you back, DeLucia." She calls at you as you give her a friendly wave. "Old man has the keys?"
"Good to be back. Yeah he does, had to take a call. You know where Kimble is?"
"Mhmm. Fucking around, last I saw he was making origami or something at his desk."
"Origami?"
She just shrugs.
"I don't understand him either."
You grunt and step through the sliding doors into the station proper. The industrial lighting is harsh coming from the dim warmth of underground, but it actually energizes you to be back in the swirling mess that is the bullpen. As you round the corner you feel something connect with your cheek and leave a slight stinging pain, it jolts you from your thoughts, looking down you see the culprit: a tightly folded paper triangle with a dent in the center. Using your deductive prowess you glance upwards, following the trajectory, until you see Kimble hunched over his desk. You squint and see hidden beneath his huddled form is a small white lump and as the pieces click you duck slightly and the second paper hornet goes flying above your head.
"Damnit." Kimble grumbles leaning back in his seat with a wide grin.
You scoop the hornet and flick it at him from your hand, it bounces dully off his chest, he doesn't even look as he chuckles to himself.
"Got ya." He taunts. "Can't go spacing off so much, consider it an informal part of your PT, gotta learn to split focus."
"Yeah well, I actually wanted to talk to you about that... among other things. Hawthorne and I just got done notifying Caesar and his family."
The smile disappears, replaced by a sadness that almost looks natural on him.
"Ah Jesus. I'm sorry, Mark."
"It's all good, I know it's part of the job. Gotta get used to it, blah blah blah. Important thing is Hawthorne cut me loose for the day, so if you're up to it I figured it wouldn't hurt to start PT a little early."
"Nothing cures a busy mind like a tired body." Kimble recites as he rises. "My instructor said that to anyone who was talking about missing home or thinking about home. Then he'd smoke the shit out of em."
"Shouldn't he have taught them to 'split focus' instead?"
"That gem isn't from the army, it's a Kimble Classic." He gives you a brotherly tap on the chest as he leads you across the pen to a hallway that eventually turns to stairs.
"This a back way to the motorbay?"
"Ah no, the motorbay isn't the actual basement. It used to be a bomb shelter way back in the day, they knocked a wall off that big ass concrete box and put a garage door on it and a ramp from the outside."
"Wait, does that mean... how old is that elevator?"
"I'd tell you, but you wouldn't wanna ride it anymore." He tosses over his shoulder with another grin. "Now THIS, is the actual basement."
He pulls the handle to an old metal door that squeaks loudly, revealing a room lined with old boxes and clutter from the past however many years. The center, however, is cleared. The old concrete floor is covered by a gym mat and scattered around are various weights, bands, and other tools.
"Nobody really comes down here after we got the new storage put in topside."
"So you moved your workout equipment in? Is that not a pain in the ass when you want to workout at home?"
"My days off are my rest days. Plus there was a time when I was still... adjusting. I spent a lot more time here than at home if possible. But let's not worry about that right now, I told you that I wasn't just gonna get you back to baseline. I want you to come back better than you left, so we should probably focus on one goal for you."
"Wouldn't it be better if I.. split my-"
"We could always start with sparring." He cuts you off.
You hold up your hands in mock surrender.
"That's alright, single focus it is."
>Focus on your strength. Extra Free Weights and body weight training, next time you'll be the one hauling the VIP up a ladder.
>Focus on endurance. Kimble ran like a machine from FireBug whereas you almost ran out of gas at the finish line.
>Focus on speed. That kid almost got his head blown off because you couldn't catch him before he made it out of the alley.
>Focus on some new close quarters moves. A spar doesn't sound too bad later on, maybe Kimble could teach you a neat army trick or two.
>Write-In
Hello, wanted to say thanks to everyone for being patient with me while I dealt with that new project and my unfortunate news. Basically I just wanted to put this post-script here as a way to ask how everyone feels about the story at the moment? Would very much so like to hear any thoughts you guys have on events, characters, etc as we enter a bit of a wind-down period from the Halloween Chapter.
Thanks in advance, see you soon.
>>6256069>Focus on endurance. Kimble ran like a machine from FireBug whereas you almost ran out of gas at the finish line.Hopefully it's more burpees and sprints and less endless amounts of jogging. Kimble of all people should know what that does to your knees in the long term.
>>6256069I like how the characters have grown into themselves. The pull away from metas in the Halloween climax (excluding mark) was good, it felt like the right kind of ending to the arc. Thanks for running
>>6256070Explain further?
>>6256069>Write-In: Work on Flexibility with stretches and bodyweight exercises. Something to help reduce the likelyhood of injury during physical activity and we can do at anywhere with no equipment.Halloween was like a season finale. Gotham is definitely an interesting place to be a cop, superpowers or no.
>>6256069>Focus on endurance.Also, FUCK burpees with a rusty rake used to shove literal shit around. I know it's good for you but I wish the person who made them up died shitting his organs out.
...my knees aren't great.
>>6256108Long story short, repetitive impact from jogging will just tear up your knees over time. Even walking can cause this if you're wearing a bunch of heavy gear like most infantry do.
It's become something a hot topic among current and former enlisted, so I imagine Kimble might not necessarily consider jogging to be the end-all-be-all of cardio as a result.
>>6256225The REAL best cardio is to be like a caterpillar or worm and crawl around like that. Smooth floors only, remember to use padding on your face. Trust me I knew a guy who had a friend who took care of the dog of a personal trainer once.
>>6256280Jokes aside, it's usually only a big concern if you're wearing a million pounds of gear all day or doing David Goggins tier marathons every morning.
>>6256069>Focus on endurance. Kimble ran like a machine from FireBug whereas you almost ran out of gas at the finish line.We Tom Cruise now.
I quite enjoy the more low-key, downtime arcs and interludes.
>>6256315>We Tom Cruise now.See, I was thinking more like the T-1000. Just that relentless fucking rundown without breaking a sweat.
>>6256070>>6256194>>6256315"How about some endurance?"
"Ahhh, needing to catch your breath on the stairs now, huh?"
"Alright, it's not THAT bad. When we ran from FireBug you could have kept that up for another couple blocks, but me?"
"Yeah, if your girlfriend wasn't there to blast him out of the air..."
"I'd have been cooked."
"Meh. I had a shot on him..." He mumbles, you cock a brow and he shrugs. "So. You want to work your stamina? I think that's a great idea, that's the backbone of beat work, but another part of stamina is longevity."
"Meaning what?"
"Meaning it's hard to run when your knees feel like gravel snowglobes. Mine creak like granny's rocker sometimes, swear to God." He chuckles as he picks up a few weights. "I've got something special for that, right now we're gonna start light. Start stretching while I set this up."
Time passes slowly as each minute spent holding weight, even your own body weight, feels like forever. Kimble doesn't allow you any slack either. Hovering around you he makes sure your form stays as close to perfect as you think you can get. Push-ups, Sit-ups, Burpees, Squats, Suicides, and more that he hits you with always giving you just long enough to rest that you can keep going but never fully reset to your baseline. Finally, as sweat drips off the end of your chin and your arm shakes slightly as you raise a water bottle to your lips, Kimble nods in satisfaction.
"That's a good start for the general stuff. We're gonna be ramping it up every day."
"Every... day? Shouldn't we be worried about over working?"
"Relax, I'm not throwing you on the bench with 250 quite yet. Plus, recovery is a different game to actually gaining. We bump weight, reps, and set amounts. You'll graduate when you can do this." He tosses a small stack of stapled papers at your feet, which you pick up groaning.
"The Academy Physical Fitness Test? Dude..."
"No bitching. It's the bare minimum, which is why if you flip it... you'll see I made a few adjustments to what constitutes a passing grade."
You flip the page and nod.
"Doubled everything... Mile run timer is cut in half... and." You squint. "Passing TWO drug tests?"
"Felt silly leaving that alone after I changed everything else. Plus, I don't want you doping." He smiles and extends a hand to lift you to your feet. "You've got time to work up to it, but I told you. You aren't coming back just barely recovered. You're coming back better than when you left, I mean it."
Despite your aching joints and burning muscles you still appreciate it. You can see it in his eyes, he really does mean it. You rise to your feet with his help and he claps your shoulders.
"Now we do our cool-down. Follow me."
You trail behind, especially on the stairs, as you struggle to keep up with him. He rounds the corner and re-traces your steps from earlier as he leads you back towards the motorbay.
"We driving somewhere for this?" You ask.
"We're not driving period." He replies happily as he steps into the dim lobby. "Yo! Mendez."
"Yo." She replies casually turning her chair, when she notices you in his shadow she straightens up a bit. "Ehm. Hey Kimble. Need something?"
"Two steeds from the Pedal-Jocks stock if you can spare em."
"You know we can spare them." She replies shaking her head and rising from her desk. "Wait here. I keep em in the back of the cage."
"Grab a tool-kit too, I wanna make a modification."
Mendez raises a brow and holds a pointed stare with Kimble.
"Please?" He adds sweetly.
"Mhm." She replies curtly, but the whisper of a smile touches the corner of her lips as she walks off.
"So biking?" You ask.
"Yeah, not as bad on the joints if you're not a moron about things. Plus, a little crisp air never hurt anyone. It'll be nice to get out after being horizontal so long, huh?"
"Yeah uh, didn't really notice the time passing truth be told."
Mendez returns with two folded bikes under each arm. Kimble helps her unfold and kickstand them and she passes him a thick red pack from her hips. Kimble cracks out some sort of wrench and gets to work on one of the bikes until, with a victorious grunt, he pulls the seat away from one completely leaving a lone hollow pipe sticking up.
"There we go!" He repacks the bag and gestures with the free seat at the bike. "This'll be your ride. Better for the calves if you peddle standing."
"And when I want to take a break?"
"No such thing. You wanted to get your stamina up, right? You can slow down, but you can't stop."
"This is stupid." You mumble lightheartedly.
"Hey man, if you really really need a break you can still sit right down. Allison might get jealous though."
"Fuck off." You reply with a chuckle, grabbing the handlebars.
"Mendez can you open up the street level door? We're gonna lap the district, swing up by Port Adams, hook a left at Miller Harbor, and then we'll take Moench to bring it home."
"Yeah..." You follow up sarcastically. "Basically a warm up."
"Exactly. Now hop on, I'll trail you. Work at your own pace, just don't stop."
>Roll 1d100 (Worst of Three)
>Anything you want to talk about with Kimble on your ride? (Write-In)
Rolled 75 (1d100)
>>6256565>Tell him about the talk with Caesar and how Mark promised him a follow-up. How can Mark help Caesar navigate this without falling into his dad’s mistakes?Kimble you son of a bitch. Who the fuck thinks of stuff like this.
Rolled 2 (1d100)
>>6256565>Tell Kimble what you saw on the roof before your flight from Arkham. You did say you'd key him in when you get a chance after all.
>>6256591Hey man, it COULD be worse. Not much worse, but still.
Rolled 2 (1d100)
>>6256565
>>6256576>>6256606Why are you two (2) like this.
Kek
>>6256576>>6256606Fated rolls, the dice gods will this
>>6256321>implying Tom Cruise isn't a killbot>>6256606>>6256576We sure ain't, though, lol
>>6256887We're more like a roomba with a half dead battery and a wheel that's tangled up with thread.
>>6256573>>6256576 (Nice.)
>>6256606 (Nice.)
A feeling of dread hits your gut as you know what you have to do.
"This is stupid." You repeat, placing a foot on the pedal.
"Enough complaining, let's get out there man!"
You swallow harshly. Come on, how hard can it really be? You throw your leg over and straighten up on the pedal you're already standing on and.... immediately go crashing to the side. You kick the bike away as you fall and manage to fall on your hands and knees as opposed to putting cheek to concrete.
"Mark? You alright?" Kimble asks, concern lacing his light tone now.
"Yeah.." You mutter, lifting the bike again.
Another deep breath. It's just keeping your balance, this shouldn't be hard. You put your other foot over now and step on that pedal, using your back foot to catch the other, rising, pedal. Balance struck... somewhat. Your arms wobble as you struggle to keep from toppling.
"DeLucia?" Kimble says, his smile turning more devilish now. "You good buddy?"
"Mhm.." You grunt, red faced from effort.
"Wanna go ahead and pedal for me then? Get this train moving."
"Sure thing." You reply through gritted teeth.
You push your lead leg down and the bike's chains clink for all of two seconds before you go falling again, this time being caught by Kimble.
"You're shitting me." He says simply, still smiling.
"Look.. I just-" You stammer, heat rising to your face.
"Something going on here?" Mendez asks, cocked brow.
"I don't think Mark knows how to ride a bike." Kimble chirps with clear amusement.
"What?" She replies deadpan.
"Guys... I can.. I.." You sigh. "I spent a lot of time inside as a kid, alright?"
"Aw.." Mendez coos quietly.
Kimble remains silent, simply kneeling to the red bag he'd set aside and pulling the wrench back out. He collects the seat and moves to your bike.
"We're gonna remedy that today." He says firmly. "Besides, what kind of red blooded American can't ride a bike?"
"The kind that wakes his mom up at 2am because somebody else is having a nightmare. Across town." You retort.
"Hm. Well when you put it like that, it makes me sound like an ass."
"Which would be accurate." Mendez chimes in.
"Aren't you supposed to be opening a door for us?" Kimble replies.
"What's the point when Mark couldn't even get to it if it was open." She follows it with a whispered "Sorry, Mark."
"Hey, it's not Mark's fault he's stunted."
"Stunted?" You ask.
"Don't say that, he's not stunted." Mendez fires back. "Besides, it's kinda sweet. Like when you meet a guy who hasn't had his first kiss."
She glances at you and asks a question without moving her lips.
"I've kissed a girl!" You reply, a little too defensively.
"More than that, I bet. He's got a girlfriend." Kimble says from under the bike, tightening a few last bolts.
"Ooh." Mendez coos.
"She's sweet... and a firefighter."
"Ahh. Knows a pole."
"That's what I said!"
"Guys!" You snap. "Can we just... focus on anything else? Anything?"
"Sure, let's focus on teaching you to ride this thing." he slaps your back and stands to the side. "I'll help you, once you get going it's easy. Then we can get back on track with your training."
"Couldn't we do.. something else?"
"If we had a pool, sure. But we don't and I doubt Reiner is gonna pay us for taking trips to the Y. Besides, it'll be fun."
"For you maybe."
"Don't be like that, I know you're not a quitter so stop yapping and let me teach you."
There's a brief silence and you glance at Mendez for support but she nods in agreement. You sigh and grab the handlebars.
"Alright. How do I do this?"
====
Many test runs later...
====
You feel Kimble's hand slowly release from your shoulder as he hovers nearby.
"See? Once you're moving it's way much easier to stay upright."
"Uh-huh." You reply tensely.
Your legs move in halting pushes and you let momentum carry you at first. As you make a few cautious turns you start to gain confidence. Your legs start moving in smooth circles as you pick up a touch more speed to test control. You exhale and it turns into a chuckle.
"How do I stop?" You ask over your shoulder, a risky maneuver.
"There's a metal bar by your handlebars, you wanna grip it but don't gr-"
The rest of his words die in his throat as you squeeze the handbrake and stop the bike in a sudden violent jerk that sends your legs splaying in panic as you kick at the floor to avoid falling off again. Kimble wheezes out laughter as Mendez looks on from her desk shaking her head. You manage to right yourself once more and let out a breath.
"Don't grip it too hard?"
Kimble wipes his eyes as he rises up from his laughing fit.
"Yeah, man." He groans, still chuckling. "Easy on the handbrake. Mendez I think we're finally ready, can you open her up?"
"Mhm. Don't be too long, I'm not staying over for you."
"We'll make it a smaller lap today." He turns to you. "Just today, and don't think I forgot about that seat either. When you get the hang of riding it's coming right back off."
He pushes off and pedals past you. You follow Kimble, still a little wobbly on initial take off but getting steady pretty fast as you both cruise down a bike lane. Eventually he slows down and you both pace each other side by side.
"So.." You huff out. "I promised to key you in on what I saw over Arkham..."
"Ah right, I'd forgotten about that. What WAS the deal?"
"It was... fuck... spirits." You inhale deeply. "Or something."
"Spirits? Like ghosts?"
"More in the 'or something' category... Apparently it was called a Tulpa?"
"That shit Greeks shout at weddings?"
"I don't... think so." You huff out. You say a silent prayer of thanks as Kimble slows to a stop on a corner. "It was feeding off the city apparently. It was strong enough to make some sort of monster-like Batman."
"Monster?"
"Big. Horns. Claws." You list. "The usual shit for scary monsters."
Kimble whistles low as he leans forward on his handlebars.
"But it's handled right? You said Batman was working on it."
"Yeah, it's handled. But I think that might have been what was making my powers go so crazy, the nosebleeds and the headaches. I've felt pretty good since."
"You use your Shivers since then?"
"Not for anything specific, but I've been getting my usual feelings. Chills and whatever."
"Hm." Kimble hums to himself. "Wanna try?"
"Now? Why?"
"Just to check on em, I mean. If we have to train your body back up how do you know if your brain's still kicking at the same level as before? Better to learn now if there's still some glitches in the system, then we can make it part of your PT if you need to get familiar with it again."
"Huh." You cluck.
"What?"
"Just interesting, I remember you telling me that my powers weren't a crutch and I shouldn't use em as much."
"And I stand by that. They aren't a crutch but they are a tool, a really good one, besides it's just as much you as it is your powers. Just give em a test."
>Try to gently use your Shivers. (Ambient Alarm)
>Try to use your Shivers as you normally would. (Cold Read)
>Try to use your Shivers at a high level. (Urban Augury)
>Try to push your Shivers to their limits... or maybe further. (Geocognition)
>"Let's not test fate. Things have felt good since I woke up, I shouldn't rush anything." (???)
Curious what those words in parenthesis mean? Read below.
NEW PERK SELECTION TIME. There will be a roll called for these early on tomorrow. The DC will be dependent on what you guys end up voting for; with the difficulty rising in ascending order of your options as listed. I even included a super-secret mystery option.
Also yes. Those double 2's did in fact retroactively have me decide that Mark never learned to ride a bike. (I'm 99% sure I haven't wrote that he could/has anywhere in any of the threads. I went and checked.) So you two can live with the guilt of making Mark embarrassed.
Excited to see what you guys choose. See you soon."
>>6257060>>Try to use your Shivers at a high level. (Urban Augury)We gotta push ourselves a little bit if we wanna figure out where we're at.
Anyways, the second hand embarrassment I got reading that bit with the bike made me want to curl into a ball and die. Very good job QM, glad to see you understand that shit rolls are meant to influence the story beyond just failing an action.
>>6257060>Try to use your Shivers at a high level. (Urban Augury)Sounds useful. Time to stroke out again!
>>6257060>Try to use your Shivers at a high level. (Urban Augury)It's OK Mark, I haven't rode a bike in more than 20 years
>>6257058>"That shit Greeks shout at weddings?"Kimble, that movie was made in 2002, update your movie references.
>>6257060>Try to use your Shivers at a high level. (Urban Augury)
>>6257060>Try to use your Shivers as you normally would. (Cold Read)
>>6257060>Try to gently use your Shivers. (Ambient Alarm)A low-level Spidey Sense sounds very useful, actually.
>>6257060>>"Let's not test fate. Things have felt good since I woke up, I shouldn't rush anything." (???)Mostly cause I'm bad, bad dude who has a bad case of the gacha fever.
>>6257060>>>"Let's not test fate. Things have felt good since I woke up, I shouldn't rush anything." (???)What's that phrase again? Ah yes.
LET'S GO GAMBLING!
>>6257094>>6257194>>6257222I need rolls!
>Roll1d100I'm going to be accepting rolls for a while on this and will be doing a longer update tonight so it'll be coming later today. I will not be giving this vote a 'roll limit' like Bo3, however I will stop counting votes if any rolls are repeated and use that result.
Update to come later, happy rolling folks.
Rolled 60 (1d100)
>>6257650Rolling
Rolled 12 (1d100)
>>6257650I will give you the funny number.
Rolled 81 (1d100)
>>6257650Watch us roll two 1's
Rolled 57 (1d100)
>>6257650Time for that 1!
Rolled 98 (1d100)
>>6257650Watch this
Rolled 38 (1d100)
>>6257650I already rolled, so reject this if you want. I’m just putting one in to help get a double.
Rolled 69 (1d100)
>>6257650Coming to you live from the shitter at my workplace
Rolled 66 (1d100)
>>6257903THE FUNNY NUMBER
>>6257891Shit I'll roll again too if'n we can. Double dip time, hoss?
>>6257650
>>6257650Our average right now is a flat 60.
Do we keep pushing this?
Rolled 85 (1d100)
>>6257650
>>6257654>>6257663>>6257666>>6257668>>6257683>>6257891>>6257903>>6257938>>625800160, 12, 81, 57, 98, 38, 69, 66, 85
Avg: 62
DC: 60 (Almost flubbed it.)
As sorry as I am to do so, I will try and get the update in tonight if possible. Life really keeps throwing haymakers and I'm trying my best to weave em. I'll see you soon though.
jojo3
md5: 12001354585c763774de14ac4c8de736
🔍
>>6258087>DC: 60 (Almost flubbed it.)Hell yeah motherfuckers I STILL GOT IT
>>6258087That do be how it do sometimes. You stay golden, man.
>>6258087No rush, QM. Take your time.
"You're right... Probably should test them sooner rather than later. I just..."
"Didn't want to rock the boat?"
"Pretty much. Things have been calm since I woke up."
"Won't stay calm, not in this city." Kimble scoffs.
You just nod along as you bring your breathing down, a steady flowing cycle of breath, the deeper your inhales the more you feel the hairs on your arms stand and the slow moving wave of goosebumps. Then you feel it. Again.
That faint rushing, once deafening, is here again. Behind closed eyes light flickers and shifts in the dark. Not the familiar oblong blobs of purple and yellow that lurk behind shut eyes but instead; flitting lines of silver, blue, and white. The source. That mainline that you've tapped into now a fixture in your mind palace and the more you focus on the rushing sound of everything moving past you the more you start to hear what's beneath the noise. Stranger yet is that you start to feel it. Sound turning to vibration which turns to feeling and sensation. A fatigue settles over you like a patchwork blanket as you feel your focus and energy slipping. Your mind is pulled multiple directions while an anxious knot forms in your stomach as you're thoughts are dominated by fears of how you'll make rent this month. You feel your eyes sink deeper in as your skin crawls from the underneath. All these feelings and thoughts, that you recognize as foreign, flow into you. Then you hear her. Her voice quiet and light, tickling the inner shell of your ear, she whispers to you:
"Three Red Eyes. One shuts erroneously. A green eye is revealed but all it witnesses is it's own mistake. Another machine with worn wires lies beneath it trapped within twisted metal."
"What the fuck..." You mumble before a firm shake makes you open your eyes, banishing all sensation.
"Hey. You with me?" Kimble asks, his eyes narrowed as he examines you.
"Uh-huh.." You blink wildly as the light overwhelms you for a second. "Just uh... something new. Always something new."
"New how?"
"Uh.. a voice? Something about Red eyes and green eyes and twist-"
A high pitched screeching shocks you out of your explanation. It's punctuated by the sound of crashing cars and shattered glass.
"What the fuck!?" Kimble says, stepping past you to sprint towards the intersection.
You blink a few times in stunned disbelief before it wears off and the training comes through. You pull your cellphone out and dial the operator.
"This is Officer DeLucia, of Precinct 1, there's been a vehicle collision at the intersection at Andru Street. Might be a... it might be an 11-66. Dispatch a bus and a tech with any traffic units."
The operator passes the info as you jog over and see Kimble helping a strangely familiar man out of his smoking car. The other drivers steps out holding his ribs and winces as he rounds the hood. You move to help set him off to the side as well, within minutes traffic officers arrive and Kimble gladly passes the reins over.
"Fucking stoplight." He mutters as he reaches you. "It's stuck on green, people around here can't drive as it is."
"I already called it in, requested a tech. How's David?"
"Fine, sleep deprived and bumped and bruised but otherwise g-" He freezes, you can see his eyes working at some invisible puzzle before he turns squinted eyes on you.
"What?"
"How do you know his name and how did you know we needed a tech before I told you about the light?"
"Uh..." You groan, suddenly you're aware of this... foreign knowledge resting in your head. "I just... did? I looked at him and it just popped into my head, his name. Also my shivers, that voice..."
"You said it mentioned red eyes? Like the ones you'd get from not sleeping?"
"Or a traffic signal, maybe. Green eye meaning the green light."
"Twisted metal.." Kimble trails off before his eyes light up and he smiles, backhanding your chest hard. "You're like a fucking... crystal ball, man."
"No.. It was. Hm." You stop yourself and sit on it. "Maybe you aren't entirely wrong, but I didn't know that was going to happen I just got like a warning? Or something like that. I dunno."
"Well you gotta test it more."
"Do I?"
"Mark. If you can see the future, even if it's only through riddles or some shit, that type of thing is... it's fucking cool. Not only is it cool, it's useful."
"What happened to my powers being a crutch?"
"If my crutch was seeing the future then I'd be Tiny fuckin' Tim. C'mon, try it again. Get more specific with it."
====
URBAN AUGURY: Focus your senses to ask a question and receive an answer from the city itself. The current limits are unknown...
====
>"Okay... I'll ask the city something more specific. (Write-In Question)"
>"Alright... I'll just go passive again, see if I pick anything else up."
>"I don't think I should, this is cool to you but.. my powers aren't toys. I don't even know if there's more surprises waiting to spring on me."
>Write-In
>>6259180>>"Alright... I'll just go passive again, see if I pick anything else up."
>>6259180>"Alright... I'll just go passive again, see if I pick anything else up."I wonder how Cold Read would work. Probably an extension of Mark using Shivers to check people directly
>>6259180>>"Alright... I'll just go passive again, see if I pick anything else up."If it keeps up like this, Mark is getting shunted into Dispatch.
>>6259180>"Okay... I'll ask the city something more specific. (Write-In Question)">"What's Gorchakov up to?"Regardless of what wins, thank the tulpa lady.
>"Thank you for your assisstance, ma'am."
>>6259180>"Alright... I'll just go passive again, see if I pick anything else up."
>>6259717+1 for being polite to The Woman Who Is Gotham, btw.
>>6259229Ya know what, fuck it, changing my vote to this ->
>>6259717Mark is nothing if not a gentleman.
>>6259717Actually, I just had another idea about a new power we could try to develop: Psychometry, like how we see it in Dark Wars: The Star Soul, starring Poncho Ginger & Best Bot... Not saying we should do it now, but later. Perhaps with one of Nonno's war items? Love to see what happened with that picture, or the story of that M1934.
>>6259769>finger-fuck Nonno's rifle>end up learning Italian and what Mussolini's corpse looked like
>>6259717>>6259719>>6259737>>6259777>>6259781"Okay... I'll ask the city something more specific. Like uh..." You close your eyes and shake out your hands. "What's Gorchakov up to?"
You swear you hear yourself speak but you don't feel your lips move or your the warmth of your breath pushing between your dry lips.
"Anarchy wearing the colors of Order. Presumed owner of the house. Yet now he spends restless nights in a room never expected to be opened. Steel door in front and piercing eyes behind. He considers mercy from his own hands before theirs."
You chance opening your eyes and the light gently filters in now instead of the usual starburst that assaults you. You let out a gentle breath as you feel a calm wash over you.
"Thank you for the assistance, ma'am." You whisper under your breath and for the briefest moment you think you hear a purr of approval.
"What was that?"
"Huh? Oh just... being polite. I asked about Gorchakov."
"Ain't he just twiddling his thumbs in central holding?"
"That's the impression I got from my Shivers too. But he's nervous about something, paranoid."
"I would be too, he's a dirty cop. That means inmate or officer, they both wanna shank his sorry ass."
"He's aware. It's got him spooked, you know anyone down there? He might be trying to uh.. get early release. His own way."
"Shit, I can call in a favor. I know most of the guys stuck working Holding." He picks his bike up and saddles it. "We should get back to the station, you're not leaking anything and you seem clear-headed to me. Maybe your Shivers problem is solved."
"Hmph." You scoff. "Maybe. Still got my Caesar problem.."
You push off from the ground and pedal alongside Kimble. He clucks his tongue.
"Rough shit man. You did the notification already though didn't you?"
"Yeah... but he wasn't exactly satisfied with what I told him. He wanted to know more about what happened to his pop."
"Shit. I mean... you lose a son, a brother, a father? Nothing is gonna make that feel better, no amount of information is gonna make it easier. Might even be worse... how old is this guy?"
"Sixteen, Seventeen? Around there."
"Ah fuck, old enough to THINK he's a man then? Rough spot to be in, Mark."
"I know and I agree with you about maybe knowing too much. I even told him that, said that if he really wanted to know that I'd stop by after work and tell him if he really wanted to know."
Kimble sucks his teeth and sighs.
"That was a bad move."
"What?"
"Look I get what you were trying to do. But... you potentially handed him a grenade and asked him not to pull the pin. Now he's sitting with it, turning it over, wondering if he can take it. Which, I remember being seventeen, he's probably gonna end up thinking he can but we both know that he's young and hurting."
"So I should lie? Or just refuse to tell him?"
Kimble sighs deeply.
"Look, I've done this before. More than I probably should have, I felt responsible for anything that happened to the guys under me, and they always asked for more. 'How'd it happen?', 'Did he suffer?", That kinda shit. And I used to answer em. Every single question I'd look em in the eye and tell them what happened." His grip tightens around the handlebars. "I figured I owed them the answers. That the answers would help em sleep at night."
"Do you... Do you still think that?" You ask gently.
"Never helped me." He replies with a calm that feels like it cost something. "All I'm saying is you already told the kid what he needs to keep standing. His dad died, it was the result of someone else, and we have the guy who did it. Start saying things past that and you might just be trying to ease your own mind. Which isn't wrong. It just... it might not be the same thing as helping him."
You go quiet as his words settle on you. He doesn't say anything but you can feel it in the air, he's waiting to hear how you feel about this.
>"I understand what you're saying, but... I can't lie to him. He trusts me and I take that seriously, if he wants to know the truth, I'm gonna tell him."
>"No offense but Caesar's a stronger kid than you think. Growing up in Gotham'll do that to you. Even if he can't handle it, I'll be there to help him."
>"You're right... I just feel like, maybe Val's death is on me. If he never confided in me and got the wheels turning on looking into Blackgate maybe he'd have never been a target."
>"You're right, he's too young for this. I can't tell him nothing if he asks but... maybe I can soften up what happened a bit? Just let him remember his father as he was."
>Write-In
>>6259816>>"You're right... I just feel like, maybe Val's death is on me. If he never confided in me and got the wheels turning on looking into Blackgate maybe he'd have never been a target."Let's be real here. It'd be a little weird for Mark to not feel a little guilty given the circumstances.
>>6259816>"You're right, he's too young for this. I can't tell him nothing if he asks but... maybe I can soften up what happened a bit? Just let him remember his father as he was."Tough call but we cant back out.
>>6259780Mark already knows Italian (I guess he'd learn Italian better?), but you bet I want to see if Nonno got a punch in!
>>6259816>>"You're right... I just feel like, maybe Val's death is on me. If he never confided in me and got the wheels turning on looking into Blackgate maybe he'd have never been a target.">"I just hope he doesn't go further into what we fight against..."Damn romance language cultures and honor...
Also, QM, will there be another chance to learn more CQC?
>>6259906>Mark already knows Italian (I guess he'd learn Italian better?), but you bet I want to see if Nonno got a punch in!I know, but he's FAR from fluent, even if he can kinda piece together stuff from what little he remembers. It would be cool if Mark actually became fluent in Italian at some point, if only to teach Mark Jr. one day.
>>6259769Might not work as well for items not attuned to Gotham City, though.
>>6259816>"You're right... I just feel like, maybe Val's death is on me. If he never confided in me and got the wheels turning on looking into Blackgate maybe he'd have never been a target."
>>6260164>Might not work as well for items not attuned to Gotham City, though.I figure the longer the item stays near the person or if the item has been through some major life changing events, the better the odds of getting something like a memory. Speaking of, we should ask for that flask we saw while bringing out Gotti and try to practice on that.
...Or perhaps a lifetime of absorbing the sweat of numerous losers of the short straw might have given Gotti some sort of attunement.
>>6259828>>6259906>>6260164>>6260372Kimble slows down as he notices your own decline in speed. His words wrestling with your emotion as you come to a soft stop and lean forward on your handlebars.
"You're right..." You admit quietly. "I just... I feel like Val's death is on me. If he'd never confided in me and got the wheels turning on looking into Blackgate maybe he'd have never been a target."
"Oh buddy." Kimble murmurs. "You can't put that on yourself man, he's the one who asked for you, wasn't he?"
"He was but our schedule was tight and I made the call to see him that day. If I hadn't..."
"Of course it was your call..." He groans. "Look, I love the old man. But his entire 'let the rookie lead' thing? It teaches how the job really is and helps make sure you don't freeze up. But the thing he never considers is the fallout of making someone new to this shit make decisions when it goes bad. As nice as it is to be the guy running shit... it's a burden."
"Shit..." You mutter.
"Ah, man. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get all.. whatever on you. Just trying to let you know this shit wasn't your fault, the one responsible for it is sitting in holding filling his loafers with piss. So if the kid needs to hear something you can tell him that."
Kimble pushes off and begins the final stretch back to the precinct.
"Maybe, you definitely have me thinking about what to tell him. He was already messing with groups like Anarky before this because his dad wasn't around, I just hope he doesn't go further into that life. Into the things that we have to deal with."
You both enter the open garage door and come to a stop, Kimble hops off the bike and gives you a look up and down.
"If it's you helping the kid stay on the straight and narrow, I'm sure he'll be alright in the end. Worry about what you can do, rather than what you could say. At least, that's what I'd do."
"I'll take it into consideration." You reply, grateful to be on your own two feet again.
"How was the ride? He wipe out?" Mendez calls out from behind a Wayne Motors magazine.
"Nope, he did good." Kimble replies, grabbing your bike by the bars. "We're all good for today, I'm gonna put these back and see if Mendez needs any help closing up the garage."
"Help closing the garage?"
"Yeah... I mean, she kept the door open for us."
"Yeah?" You reply with a friendly note of accusation in your voice.
Kimble goes to reply again but as soon as he makes eye contact with you he gives off the faintest ghost of a grin and shrugs before turning around. You watch him vanish behind the shelving units as you head for the door. Curiously enough you see Mendez rise from her own seat, close the garage door, and then make her own meandering path towards the shelves. You just chuckle and shake your head.
====
The time in the locker room and the quiet of your own car provide you the space to dig through your own thoughts. To try and make sense out of everything Hawthorne and Kimble have told you. Hell, to try and make sense out of what you even think. The closer you get the harder you find it to actually put words to the various things flitting around in your damaged head. Your brakes squeak as you put it into park. The Officer on watch glances over before recognizing your vehicle and turning away with a simple nod of acknowledgment.
The stairs are hell on your legs, already exhausted from cycling and Kimble's cardio routines, but despite the burning you manage. As you catch your breath and straighten up a noise from behind makes you whip your head. The apartment you'd made a mental note about, Caesar's loud neighbors. A skinny woman stands frozen in the doorway with a black garbage bag, the speed of you turning makes her flinch. Glancing at her you couldn't possibly miss the dark mass of purple with fading yellows around it plastered directly over her left eye. She let's out a nervous laugh and puts a hand to her chest.
"Sorry, you surprised me." She says as she steps out into the hall, the garbage bag in her hands clinking as she moves.
She sees you glance down and she awkwardly laughs again.
"Garbage day... Do you mind if I?" She trails off, pointing to the staircase to your side.
>This isn't your problem. You're off duty and even if you weren't you're not in any shape to deal with the husband if he gets rowdy. "Sorry, go ahead."
>Step aside but as she goes hand out a card for the precinct. You can't save everyone, but you can give them a chance to save themselves. "In case you ever need anything."
>It doesn't take a detective to figure out what's going on in that apartment. You can't turn a blind eye to this kind of thing. "Ma'am, do you need help?"
>You were already in a bad mood from the overthinking. This is one thing you CAN solve. Let her take her garbage down, when it's clear go knock on the door. Make it clear that someone's paying attention. (Feel free to write-in dialogue or general vibe on how Mark handles the 'chat' with the husband.)
>Write-In
>>6259906Yes! Don't worry, I still have a few training bits upcoming.
Mark also does know enough Italian to have a simple conversation or order food, etc.
>>6259769I like this idea, if you guys want to try that the next time there's an free-time stat increase moment please bring it up again and see how the others feel.
>>6259269Spot on, Cold Read would have been a supernatural vibe check/low level polygraph.
Geocognition would have been a sort of psychic filter you could put on to see events that happened in the city if you were there ala Detective Vision from the Arkham games.
Ambient Alarm also was 100% dollar store Spider-Sense but with emotional triggers too. (Like getting a warning when making someone too angry or clam up.)
And the ??? shit... The mystery box option isn't even off the table yet. I also had another mystery option for failing the rolls, so you'd have still gotten something.
>>6257061> the second hand embarrassment I got reading that bit with the bike made me want to curl into a ball and die.Happy to hear it! Invoking emotion is my favorite part of storytelling!
>>6260526>>It doesn't take a detective to figure out what's going on in that apartment. You can't turn a blind eye to this kind of thing. "Ma'am, do you need help?"Somebody up there must have a sense of humor, dropping this on us after a workout like that.
>>6260526>It doesn't take a detective to figure out what's going on in that apartment. You can't turn a blind eye to this kind of thing. "Ma'am, do you need help?"
>>6260547If she refuses, don’t push the issue but give her the business card.
>>6260527Ngl, talking directly with the city Tulpa is pretty rad. Knowledge of past present n future though we'd have to know what the right questions are. Only way it gets more comic is if she straight up becomes a stand.
>>6260526>Step aside but as she goes hand out a card for the precinct. You can't save everyone, but you can give them a chance to save themselves. "In case you ever need anything."
>>6260547>>6260549Pretty much these two. Maybe ask Mrs. Garcia later if she knows the couple, and if she can keep the wife company if there's an altercation. Not immediately, of course.
>>6260526>>Step aside but as she goes hand out a card for the precinct. You can't save everyone, but you can give them a chance to save themselves. "In case you ever need anything.">Ask Mrs. Garcia is she knows the womanDomestic ones suck, more so if they weren't called in, more so if it's way after the actual assault.
We're gonna have enough trouble with the BOY as is.
Update is coming. My computer tried to kill itself and in the process wiped the entire update from the text field. Which is honestly what I get for not doing it in a doc first.
>>6260528>>6260547>>6260549>>6261023You extend your arm as she moves. It's not enough to block her path, just enough to slow her down. She glances at you, closer now, you can see the detail in the bruise. Already fading, darker marks about the space of knuckles, doesn't take a detective to figure out how this happened. You can't step in
"Ma'am, do you need help?" You offer gently.
She let's out another nervous chuckle as she glances at your arm.
"With the trash? Haha, it's not THAT heavy.." She trails off uncomfortably. "It's... it's fine."
You sigh through your nose, you don't wanna put too much pressure on her, you can't save everyone. Not until they want to be saved at least. You dig through your pocket as you lower your arm and pull a card from your wallet. You hold it out.
"Here. Just in case you ever need anything."
She glances down at it, you can see her tense visibly as her eyes drift over 'GCPD'. She reaches out with two slender fingers and plucks it away. She goes down the first step before pausing.
"Thanks." She whispers before vanishing down the steps without so much more as a look back.
You shake your head. The world's got a sick sense of humor springing this on you while you're already distracted. You take a breath and go to knock when the door opens suddenly. Caesar's sister stands eye level with the knob as she stares up at you.
"Hola." She says quietly.
"Hello." You reply stiffly. "Is uh... is your mother home?"
"She's in her room, she's sleeping.." She blinks at you with wide eyes. "Everyone's sad."
You awkwardly clear your throat as you try to think of a way to respond. Thankfully she doesn't let the sentence linger before she waddles backwards a few steps.
"Caesar said you were coming over, he's in the kitchen." She punctuates her sentence with a small finger pointed down the hall.
You step inside and softly shut the door as she pads her way down the hall. It's dark, only illuminated by candles on the window sill and a table by the front door. The warmth of the stove fills the tiny apartment kitchen and soaks into your tired bones. Caesar stands over a steaming pot as he stirs it's contents with a wooden spoon. He barely glances over his shoulder as you enter the kitchen.
"Hey, D." He mumbles. "You hungry?"
"Eh." You reply. "What'cha cooking?"
"Only thing she eats." He replies. "That and nuggets. Got some of them in the oven too."
Caesar walks from the stove and pours the pot into a bowl, clouds of steam billow up and you recognize the familiar smell of cheap chicken ramen. He hands her the bowl and a small plate of chicken nuggets.
"Izzy, go watch TV. Make sure it's quiet, don't wake mom." He urges.
She nods and wobbles off. Caesar grabs a chair and drops into it, his eyes are distant and bordered by red puffy skin, he looks more tired than sad. The warm glow of the street lamps illuminate the kitchen, filling the dimness that sits between flickering candlelight. He keeps his eyes down.
"I been thinking about what you were saying. About my dad." He sniffs and leans back, finally meeting your eyes. "I think... I think I wanna know."
"Are you sure?"
He doesn't answer you. He just nods while keeping his eyes away. Not good enough. You lean forward.
"Caesar. Are. You. Sure?" You ask him slowly and firmly.
He finally raises his eyes to meet yours. He shifts under your gaze, trying to balance the new weight that sits on his shoulders. He can't hold it for long.
"Was it bad?" He asks. "I think it was bad..."
"Why d'you think that?"
"My mom... she called that number. The one your partner gave her. She started crying... bad. Locked herself in her room... She won't talk to us."
"Caesar..." You begin.
"Was it bad?" He repeats, almost sounding like he's scared to hear your reply.
>Tell him the unfiltered truth. You found Val with his throat slit badly, dumped into a dirty van, it's not pretty but the silver lining is that you got the guy who ordered it.
>Sugarcoat it. Kimble was right, he's still too young to handle this. It could send him down a far darker road, tell him the truth but lightened a bit. He doesn't need memories of his dad tainted with that imagery.
>Refuse. His mom called the morgue, she knows exactly the state he was in. Which means she hasn't told her kids for a reason. If anyone should tell him it should be her.
>Refuse. He's not ready, he can't look you in the eye and he's already trying to cope by forcing himself to go through the motions. You can't mess him up anymore.
>Lie. As far as Caesar needs to know, his father died helping someone. Maybe he got that fatal wound protecting an elderly inmate like he mentioned to you. Caesar should be able to remember his dad for the good he did.
>Write-In
>>6261287>Tell him the unfiltered truth.>Simply drag two fingers across your throat to explain how it happened, in case Izzy is listening in.It’s like Kimble said. We gotta be the guy who keeps him on the straight and narrow.
>>6261304+1
Tell him that his dad died trying to testify against the warden too. That he died trying to do the right thing.
>>6261287>"Yes, it was."Nah I don't wanna just tell him how his dad got his throat slit, got all of his blood drained and then thrown into a van passing as manure to be dumped in a lake.
>>6261287>Sugarcoat it. Kimble was right, he's still too young to handle this. It could send him down a far darker road, tell him the truth but lightened a bit. He doesn't need memories of his dad tainted with that imagery.He was kileld with a knife. It wasn't pretty, but hopefully it was fast. He reached out to us when he heard we were in the prison, and was trying to get out early by blowing the whistle on a corrupt scumbag. They killed him for it. Some assassin working for said scumbag tried to smiggle the body out in a truck, tried to kill us when we caught him. We got him good, and his boss, who had also been framing Hawthorne for a bunch of personal shit and generally making everyone's lives worse. Hopefully, he and the bastarda he worked for will all be going down soon. We'd tell him kore if it wouldn't endanger the case, and as soon as we can, we will.
Not sure I'd call it sugar-coating, as the location and raggedness of the wound aren't necessary to the story of what happened.
Providing a little extra time for votes since we are sitting at a tie between
>>6261304>>6261314&
>>6261352>>6261354Update will just come around the time yesterday's was.
>>6261352No need to blackpill the kid even more
>>6261287>>6261352+1
Somehow I forgot to type "+1"
>>6261287>>Sugarcoat it. Kimble was right, he's still too young to handle this. It could send him down a far darker road, tell him the truth but lightened a bit. He doesn't need memories of his dad tainted with that imagery.He doesn't need every gory detail, but he does need the truth.
>>6261897>>6261882>>6261352>>6261354>>6261348"Yes. It was." You say simply. "When I found him he had lost too much blood, he was already gone."
Caesar's throat clenches like he's choking as he nods. His breath is shallow and quick.
"Lost blood how?"
You sigh and glance over your shoulder, the sounds of cartoons and slurping noodles muffled in the next room. Caesar notices your glance and leans in close. You don't want to say it. You don't want to describe it. You simply pull a line over your neck with your finger and Caesar's pupils constrict as he let's out a shaky breath.
"Was it quick? At least..." He manages to whisper.
"I'm no doctor but... I'd guess so, yeah. And Caesar your dad..." You pause picking your words carefully. "Your dad died trying to do the right thing. Whatever the circumstances of him ending up in Blackgate, he left it a man trying to expose some serious corruption in that prison."
"Corruption? You mean the shit that's been on the news about the guy who ran the place? Was he..."
"We believe so. The man who actually... did the deed was trying to smuggle the body out of the prison, but we got him. He tried to kill me and my partner too when we found out the lie, but we managed to get him. We got him good." You add the final words almost more for yourself.
"So my dad, my mom told me he was making a deal. That he was getting.." His voice goes hoarse and you let him collect himself.
"The bottom line, Caesar is that him and the bastards he worked for will all be going down soon. I wish I could tell you more than that but the case is still going on."
Caesar leans forward, clasping his hands and pressing his jaw into the knuckles. You can see the faintest tremor. Whether it be rage or something else you can't tell. The city is oddly quiet now, letting you sit in the silence of this dim kitchen. You let him take his time, this isn't about you.
"Tell me how to help."
"I'm sorry?"
"I can't... I can't sit here, D. I can't stay in this fucking apartment, man." His hands tremble now. "I have to do something."
"Caesar.. there's no-"
"THEY FUCKING KILLED MY DAD, D!" He shouts, hands crashing on the table as he stands. His chest puffing up. You don't move a muscle in your face.
"Caesar. Lower your voice before you scare your sister. I know you don't wanna do that to her." You say quietly.
As if on cue the TV in the next room lowers in volume and holds there. You glance to Caesar and raise an eyebrow. You see tears streak down his cheek as he stares at you. His throat bobs violently and his chin crinkles as he holds back as much as he can. His fists are clenched and he's just... standing. You slowly rise from your own seat.
"Your dad was doing the right thing and he wanted me to make sure you didn't end up where he was."
"You don't know shit." He spits stepping closer, hands still tight.
"I know he was proud of you. I know that he asked me to watch out for you and I plan on doing that."
"I can help." He repeats quietly. His hands going loose. "I can fucking help..."
"How?" You ask quietly.
Silence. His face twitches, shifting between agony, fury, and something scarier. The same darkness you saw in Hawthorne as he stood over Mandragora. That you saw in Huntress.
"How." You repeat.
Caesar takes a swift step forward and grabs your shirt. You let yourself get pulled as he holds you in trembling arms, his knuckles grazing your throat.
"I..." He begins, staring at you with an intensity a few years ahead of himself. "I don't fucking know."
He collapses into your chest as he sobs silently, his body racking and convulsing as he does everything he can to keep quiet. You just pat his back and try to keep your own eyes clear. You'll be his lighthouse. You clutch him tighter and know, if you ever meant what you've said about helping the little guy, this is the time to put your money where your mouth is.
"How can I help..." Caesar chokes out.
>"If you want to change things, maybe you can do it from inside... What would you say to me organizing a ride-along? See if police work is something you wanna work towards."
>"If you want to help then help your family. Go to school, trade school, GCC, whatever. Just try to be the man your father knew you could be and help your mom keep it together for Izzy."
>"If you want to help, then start small. Do good. We can check the community centers, some volunteer work, things to help keep you occupied that put some good into the world."
>"I'm sorry, Caesar. But there's nothing to you can do about this part... Not now. All you can do NOW is keep your head up, stay out of the dark, and live the kind of life your pop would want for you."
>Write-In
Hope you guys have found this section interesting. I'd really like to hear your thoughts on this update, what you think the future might hold for Caesar and his family. I hope I did a subject like this justice, thanks for reading guys. See you soon.
>>6261944>"At this moment you can be the good son that you are for your mother and the best brother for your sister, Caesar. By you supporting them they'll support you, so please, don't let this burden be only on your shoulders, you're all grieving">"I don't have a date, but once the case is set on motion, maybe you can put a good word for your father and say how such a great man he was. You won't be going to the court for your situation, but maybe a recorded testimony would be accepted.">"That could be enough for the moment... Once you feel ready, I'll help you however you need and however I can. If you wanna help your community? I'll hook you up, trade school? I can ask around."
>>6261953+1
>”If you’re still wanting to do more… come by the station. They’re having me do training after my three day coma, it’ll be a good start to training for what I think you mean.”>Remember to find your old criminology textbooks for him.>Ask Ms. Gotham: “Do you think he has potential, if not as a son, then as a relative of Gotham?”Either he’s going to go cop or try becoming a Luchadore inspired vigilante. Calling it here.
>>6261976+1
I can already see it. The last update of this Quest will be a flash forward to an older, slightly grizzled Mark getting called into Reiner’s office.
“I’m putting you back on the beat, DeLucia. We have a new rookie officer, I’d like you to be his TO. Here’s his file.”
The name on the top will be Caesar’s.
>>6261944>>"If you want to help then help your family. Go to school, trade school, GCC, whatever. Just try to be the man your father knew you could be and help your mom keep it together for Izzy."Police work isn't for everybody. If he wants to pursue something like that, I'd rather he do so entirely of his own volition. For now, I just want him to work towards a life where he's not looking over his shoulder or worrying too much about how to make ends meet.
>>6261944>>"If you want to help then help your family. Go to school, trade school, GCC, whatever. Just try to be the man your father knew you could be and help your mom keep it together for Izzy."Don't recruit a deistressed guy in a moment of weakness
>>6261953>>6261976>>6262076>>6262193>>6262464You figure he deserves the time to get this out, you just pat his back as he finally let's loose all that frustration. As his sobbing shifts to sniffles you take a step back as you hold his shoulders.
"At this moment..." You begin, voice trailing as you get your thoughts in order. "At this moment you can be the good son and brother that your mom and Izzy need. If you support them they'll support you, don't let this burden only sit on your shoulders, you're all grieving."
"Sorry..." He mumbles.
"No, man. Don't apologize, you didn't do anything wrong." You sigh. "Look I don't have a date, but once the case is set in motion, maybe you can give us a 'character statement' about your dad."
"What's that? Would I have to go to court?"
"You wouldn't go to the court for it, it could be written or recorded, basically you'd just... talk about him. The things you did together, how he was a good dad to you, and that sort of thing. Then we'd give it to the judge when it comes time for sentencing."
You leave out the part where these kinds of videos have, in the past, helped sway judges on allowing deals to proceed. He doesn't need to hold onto that pipe dream, but Gordon was right; it's all about stacking the deck and another card never hurt.
"I want to do it." He says without hesitation. You just nod.
"And that's enough for now?"
He hesitates a moment before sighing and giving a nod. You screw your mouth up and dip your hand into your pocket, pulling another card free.
"Alright look." You say, withholding the card. "After you give a statement and start to feel ready to do more... I'll help you however you need to do it. Wanna help the community? I can set you up with good local groups. Wanna support your mom and sister through a job? I'm sure I can ask around about getting you into a trade school. Anything you want."
"Thanks, D." He sniffles, he thumbs away the last bit of moisture from his eye.
"And. If you're still wanting to do more?" You extend the card. "Come by the station. I woke up from a coma the other day."
"What?"
"Wasn't that big a deal, I'm fine. But they have me on training for the time-being, maybe you could join me. Consider it training for what I assume you meant by 'helping'. Plus, a little workout never hurt anyone."
"Training..." He echoes looking down at the card. "Is that... would I be able to? Those culo outside are all over my ass ever since the fruit shit."
"You'll be surrounded by cops, we train in the basement."
"The basement?"
"We ride bikes too." You reply proudly. "I'm not looking to recruit you though, think about where you see yourself in a couple years. Where you see Izzy and your mom. Really think about it. Even if I'm off desk duty by the time you decide, I'll make some time for you. Okay?"
"Alright. Alright yeah. Fuck yeah." He talks more to himself than you, until he looks up and holds you with a stare. "Thanks, D."
"No problem." You reply simply.
Caesar's eyes drift to the side and he smiles, pushing past you.
"Mama." He says throwing his arms around his mother.
Bianca lurks half in the shadow as Caesar nuzzles into her shoulder. She pets his hair affectionately as she speaks low.
"You made your sister dinner?"
"Mhm."
"Gracias, Mijo." She whispers, leaning down to kiss his forehead. "Can you go sit with her for a bit? I want to talk to Officer DeLucia for a minute."
"Sure thing, mama." Caesar replies, leaning back. He glances over his shoulder and gives you a nod before disappearing.
"Glad to see you're feeling better, Caesar mentioned y-"
"What do you want with my son, Officer?" She asks you suddenly. Her face still passive.
"I'm sorry?"
"My son. I know you caught him spraying graffiti with those.. those.. amigos estúpidos!" She sighs. "Then you helped him again and my daughter. You helped me. You've done so much for us... why?"
"I.. It's just the right thing to do. It's the job."
"No." She says firmly shaking her head. "It's not just the job. Just the job would be if you had to explain to me why you put him in lock up with grown men. Just the job would be explaining to me that kicking in my door was necessary. But you come here. Mi casa. You come HERE. You text. I just... I don't understand what you're getting out of this."
"Bianca, I'm not 'getting' anything out of this..."
"Val always told me... nothing is free. Especially not help. That's why we help ourselves, it's only free when it's coming from family. I'm sorry to be so blunt with you, Officer. But... getting involved with you got Val killed." She whispers the final sentence, eyes darting down the hall. "I'm not saying it's your fault... but he's a boy and he's hurting and you waving a card in his face talking about 'training' is something that... I don't know if that's what he needs."
"I see..." You answer quietly.
"I'm sorry." She says faintly. "I didn't mean to dump all that on you I just... Caesar looks up to you and now without his father... I want a reason to trust you."
"So you want to know why?"
She nods.
>"Honestly. Because you're right. It was my fault in a way, if I hadn't given him the time or maybe if I had taken it right to someone higher up... maybe things would be different. Hell, If I hadn't gotten Caesar go home in that alley, he'd have never left Anarky and maybe you wouldn't have been targeted. But that just means I need to be accountable for the situations I caused. I owe your entire family and I intend to pay it off by helping keep Caesar on the right path."
>"Because the world needs more good people in it. People who help those around them, who work to make the city just a little nicer, and that also includes the GCPD. It needs people like Caesar, people who know how bad it is on the streets. Who want to make it better."
>"Because I know what it looks like when someone's left to stew in that grief. It makes the world a dimmer place, makes it easy to give up or let yourself down. Caesar has a good heart, he just needs someone to help give him a little direction."
>"Because the badge isn't a wall. It's a bridge. Someone once told me everyone in this city, they aren't the enemy, they're your neighbors. Your peers. It's my duty to make sure that I do more for Gotham than clean up the trash."
>"It may sound selfish but, I want this sort of thing to be my legacy. Some other cops are known for their massive busts or their closing rates. I want to be remembered for actually helping people. I don't just want to stop people falling through the cracks, I want the cracks sealed up. That means finding good people and trying to convince them to work for that same change."
>Write-In
>>6261944>Hope you guys have found this section interesting.I hate it, but hey, I'm pretty sure that's by design. No way this could be pleasant.
>>6263945>>"Honestly. Because you're right. It was my fault in a way, if I hadn't given him the time or maybe if I had taken it right to someone higher up... maybe things would be different. Hell, If I hadn't gotten Caesar go home in that alley, he'd have never left Anarky and maybe you wouldn't have been targeted. But that just means I need to be accountable for the situations I caused. I owe your entire family and I intend to pay it off by helping keep Caesar on the right path."Well, recruiting this kid is a mistake, but what can I do now.
>>6263945>"Honestly. Because you're right. It was my fault in a way, if I hadn't given him the time or maybe if I had taken it right to someone higher up... maybe things would be different. Hell, If I hadn't gotten Caesar go home in that alley, he'd have never left Anarky and maybe you wouldn't have been targeted. But that just means I need to be accountable for the situations I caused. I owe your entire family and I intend to pay it off by helping keep Caesar on the right path."End of the day, what happened is at least partially on us. That's gotta way on a guy like Mark.
Gotta love that ingrained Catholic guilt
>>6263950>way on MarkMeant to say "weigh". Fuck I'm stupid.
>>6263945>"Honestly. Because you're right. It was my fault in a way, if I hadn't given him the time or maybe if I had taken it right to someone higher up... maybe things would be different. Hell, If I hadn't gotten Caesar go home in that alley, he'd have never left Anarky and maybe you wouldn't have been targeted. But that just means I need to be accountable for the situations I caused. I owe your entire family and I intend to pay it off by helping keep Caesar on the right path."
>>6263945>"Honestly. Because you're right.>My grandfather told me something that really stuck with me a long time ago...Anybody know which thread it was where Grandpa told us about "living for yourself is good" but "living to serve others is divine"? I remember it was in a memory of him of us during grade school after we broke a pencil of a classmate, but I'm having trouble finding it.
>>6263945>"Because the badge isn't a wall. It's a bridge. Someone once told me everyone in this city, they aren't the enemy, they're your neighbors. Your peers. It's my duty to make sure that I do more for Gotham than clean up the trash.">>6263949>>6263950>>6263960>>6264009Catholic guilt makes sense as something good old Cobra would be feeling right about now, but I'd like to put forth that it isn't why we're helpline Caesar, because we were doing that before we ever met his old man.
>>6263949>>6263950>>6263960>>6264009>>6264414"Honestly... it's because you're right. It WAS my fault in a way, if I hadn't given him the time or maybe if I had taken it right to someone higher up... maybe things would be different. Hell, If I hadn't gotten Caesar go home in that alley, he'd have never left Anarky and maybe you wouldn't have been targeted. But that just means I need to be accountable for the situations I caused. I owe your entire family and I intend to pay it off by helping keep Caesar on the right path."
"So you feel like you owe us?"
"I mean, that's not the entire reason. I'm not a guy with a ton of experiences under my belt, but I do hold onto two pretty big pieces of advice. First being that the badge should be a bridge, not a wall, because everyone in this city isn't an enemy or someone to keep an eye on. They're my neighbors. My peers. My duty is to do more for Gotham than clean up the trash."
"Who taught you that one?"
"My TO, basically my partner."
"The one who was with you earlier? He didn't strike me as being that... gentle."
"He has his moments."
"What's the second piece of advice?"
"Got that from my grandfather. He told me there was nothing wrong with living for yourself. But to live a life in service to other people, regardless if they appreciate it or not, that's a life well lived. Now that I'm older, I gotta say I agree with him."
Bianca's expression has softened considerably as she looks at you. She eventually works up a small smile and nods.
"Alright. I'll trust you, Officer DeLucia. Just... just watch out for him?"
"I swear." You say without hesitation.
She simply nods and let's her eyes fall back to the floor. You glance over and see the numbers on the stove glowing faintly: 7:45. Clearing your throat you straighten up.
"I should probably go ahead and go, let you guys be together. Sure you've got a bit to talk about now."
"We do..." She agrees, turning and leading you to the door. "I'll tell Caesar you said goodnight."
"Appreciate that, I'll check in with him after a couple days. See what he thinks about that character statement."
You hear a cascade of slapping feet as Izzy comes around the corner, pointing at you with a small finger.
"Bring your Abuelo next time!" She demands.
"Will do, ma'am." You chuckle as you step out the door.
Another hurried goodbye and the door closes. You let out a breath you didn't even realize you were holding and rub your forehead. You hope you're doing the right thing here, only time will tell.
====
The drive home is busy, the city's whispers coming back in force after your departure, you wrestle with your own thoughts on the SIM case, The Warden, Caesar and his future, and how far you still have to go before even being fit enough to be back on the beat. You're exhausted thinking about it and by the time you park the car you're actually looking forward to having a night completely to yourself to relax. You climb the stairs, one at a time with wobbling knees, eventually stepping into a familiar hallway.
"Jesus..." You mumble, bringing your hand up to your face.
The stench of eggs fills the hallway, you don't even want to think about what someone was cooking to make it this bad. You hurry to your door and pull out your keys, cranking the lock you grab the knob and freeze. Something soft and powdery rests beneath your fingertips. Yellow and reeking of that same stench.
"Son of a bitch." You mumble, swiping the sulfur onto your pants and throwing open the door. "You."
"Welcome home, love." A familiar smarmy voice rings out.
John Constantine sits on your couch with a small box on his lap, sealed with black ribbon. He lifts it and wiggles it slightly.
"I got you something."
>Punch John in the face.
>"You better have three days of my life in that box or we aren't even close to even."
>"That smell... you didn't bring... please tell me my apartment is demon free."
>"Jesus Christ, what are you doing here!? No, it's actually good you're here. I think I'm...talking to the Tulpa."
>"Would have preferred Batman but... you'll do. I was hoping to hear how the rest of your night went at Arkham."
>Write-In
>>6264490>>"Oh. Hey. I was hoping to hear how the rest of your night went at Arkham."Mark is probably just tired by now. Punch feels unwarranted, we did took a blimp to the spooky smoke and then agreed to the coma. I do wish Constantine would speak normally for one update lol. But then he wouldn't be himself.
>>6264496He is speaking normally kek. He's from fucking Liverpool or Birmingham (that shithole) or something. They're all like that.
>>6264490>"That smell... you didn't bring... please tell me my apartment is demon free."Oh COME ON. We have work tomorrow and a lady friend to entertain from time to time. Why would you track SULFUR in here?
>>6264490>"That smell... you didn't bring... please tell me my apartment is demon free."
>>6264490>"That smell... you didn't bring... please tell me my apartment is demon free.">”Question would at least keep it scent-free, y’know… god, I hate the fact that I’m nostalgic for plain old regular break-ins now.”>"Jesus Christ, what are you doing here!? No, it's actually good you're here. I think I'm...talking to the Tulpa."
>>6264496>>6264549>>6264616>>6264500>>6264515>>6264542"That smell..." You begin. "You didn't bring... please tell me my apartment is demon free."
"Don't be a drama queen, course it is." He laughs as he sits up. "Honestly, a loyal friend brings you an apology gift and you can't even untwist your knickers long enough to say thank you."
"Thank you for what? The smell?" You grumble to yourself as you head for the window. "Question would at least keep it scent-free... God, I actually miss the normal break-ins."
"Come off it." John throws out.
"What'd you expect me to say? 'Oh. Hey. I was hoping to hear how the rest of your night went at Arkham.' something like that?"
"I'm chuffed you asked!" He barks, tossing the gift box to you. "It was actually a real pain in the bollocks, thanks for asking."
"A pain? You had Batman and you're supposed to be this big shot magician right?"
"Unfortunately for me, being hijacked and used as a Tulpa's johnny takes it out of a guy. I had to lug him out of there before it had a chance to affix itself to him again."
"And you didn't use a spell to just... float him or something?" You reply, picking at the tight knot of the ribbon. "You really don't have something like that?"
"First off, don't talk about my magic until you've looked in that box. Secondly, shutting down not one but TWO Tulpa's leaves a bloke a bit drained. So forgive me for not living up to your Magi stereotypes."
"Whatever." You reply. "After you forced me into a corner and got me to agree to a coma, I don't really think much of 'mages' anyway."
You pull the last loop and the knot falls apart, the ribbon hanging loosely around the box, you hear a metallic scrape and glance up to see John holding his zippo, loose cigarette dangling from his mouth. You narrow your eyes and he sneers.
"You opened the window, mate. I assumed..." He trails off as he watches you frown. "Well if you opened gifts faster than my granny maybe I wouldn't need a smoke. Not to mention all the hostility you have for a bloke who saved your life."
"You put me in a coma instead of siccing a monster on me." You reply as you pull the snug lid off slowly. "That hardly counts as... saving... my...."
The lips around the cigarette turn upwards as John raises an eyebrow.
"Maybe that covers it then?" He asks, striking the wheel and lighting the edge of his Silk Cut.
In your hands, nestled in a nest of red and yellow streamers, lies a wet lump. Pale pink flesh crisscrossed with tiny black veins. A disgusting sheen still shows on it as the light makes it glisten like defrosting meat. You toss the box out of instinct and watch as the lump, about the size of a golf ball, squelches on your floor. You look up at John in horror and see him wiggling his fingers.
"Ta-da. How's my magic now, ya git?"
>Punch John in the face.
>Hug John.
>"What the fuck. What did you do? WHEN did you do this?"
>"How the hell is that possible? You told me that your magic couldn't get the tumor."
>"What's the catch? I know there's a catch with this shit."
>Write-In
>>6265003>"What's the catch? I know there's a catch with this shit."JOHN YOU CAN'T JUST MAGIC OUT A CHUNK OF BRAIN TISSUE LIKE THAT
>>6265003holy fucking shit John you're a wizard not a neurosurgeon
>>6265003>>Hug John.>>"What the fuck. What did you do? WHEN did you do this?">Write-in"Are you SURE you got out the right bits?"
Fine, he gets this one show of thanks.
>>6265009+1
These go well together.
Here’s what I don’t get, though. We’ve used Shivers after the coma, during which apparently our tumor was scooped out. So the Shivers weren’t from that.
So what the fuck was causing the tumor?
>>6265009This works well enough. Maybe break out the Amarillo too?
>>6265059>So what the fuck was causing the tumor?This is just me spit-balling here, but whatever caused the mutation that gave us our Shivers might have also resulted in some damage to our DNA, leading to a buildup of garbage cells that would eventually turn into our brain tumor.
It would even line up with the fact that the tumor was located in roughly the same part of the brain that's probably firing the most when we tap into our Shivers.
>>6265061Will Mark need this sort of tumor removal again in the future? Or is it a one-and-done deal?
>>6265009+1
the lad needs a real hug of gratitude after the shit he's been through
>>6265070Well, that depends on whether or not it was malignant I think.
As I recall, if it WAS a malignant tumor, it may come back despite being removed.
If it WASN'T a malignant tumor, then it's probably gone for good.
That said, this is as far as conventional medicine is concerned. Magical surgery throws a wrench in things.
