Gotham: A New Generation (IC)

[Yaana Noore]

Control Freak

---

She eased up internally when he laughed. He likes me, thank fuck. Her charming, delightful flower of a personality had smoothed them up again. "Yes, I do." Charley confirmed with a nod, very sure of herself. "You guys, like Batman and stuff, you're really cool. Super fucking awesome, in fact. Do you see him much? He's the best. I was having this argument once with my friend, and she said that you could easily solve a case before he did, and I was like, no way could that happen, as he is the best detective out there and generally shits on everyone else, even Superman. You're more on a par with Red Robin, at least in my mind. Do you guys argue about who is the best at your super hang-outs, or does it just quickly become clearly who is better?"

Obviously, he was never going to shut her down. He couldn't, she wouldn't let him, and did have a little trick up her sleeve if he tried. But he was right, she sure wasn't prepared physically. Charley had been hitting the gym, but she was still... weak, and couldn't fight. A guy like this could sure help her. "Yes." She answered quickly. "I want to be a superhero, and I want to fight crime." And become super famous and cool doing it. "That's why I've been practicing, and already bust a few bad guys. See this?" She tapped her hip. "I have a sword, from fencing. Leaves a mean cut. But I'm not ready physically, you're right. I do need the training, Mr. Question. Please teach me, it would be... the best thing ever."

[United States of Brainy]

Batgirl

Harley shifted in her seat uncomfortably. She could feel Harleen bubbling within her, it made her want to be sick. Possibly also the food. She took another unenthusiastic bite. "Umm, well I, like, do try and be good now..." She admitted, chewing her lip and gazing down at her feet. The blonde hesitated at the question, letting the woman grab her fries. "I've been sorta forced into the quiet life, and it's... a bit boring, but OK." Harley shrugged. "I don't know if it's the life for me. I have this job, and I may be about to take another job. But I'm not sure whether I really wanna, if it's right for me. It's why I wanted to talk to Ivy." She patted the plant pot on their table. "She always knew the right thing ta say to me, y'know?"

Babs listened intently, hanging on Harl’s every word. A small bit of French fry hung on the corner of her lip but she seemed oblivious to it. Harl told her about the job offer and that she was having doubts. Babs put down her gyro. Reflexively swatting the errant fry with her hand, she reached out and grabbed both of Harl’s hands in her own. Locked eyes with her.

“Listen. Life’s too short. I’ve been… I’ve been reminded of that recently.” She choked up, was about to completely lose it but found the strength to continue. “You can’t go on living second guessing yourself or having doubts. Can’t be so afraid to take a chance that you never take a chance at all. Follow your heart. If your heart is telling you to take this job then take it. I can’t speak for Ivy but I say that you call them up right now and tell them you’ll take the job!”

She gave the clown girl such a warm smile. She stayed silent, just staring at her, still clutching her hands. Finally, she spoke. “I can’t go home. I…can’t be alone.” She fought back the tears, her face pleading. “Could you possibly find it in your heart to let me stay at your place tonight?”

[Yaana Noore]

---

---

She instinctively flinched at the touch as Batgirl took her by the hands. Harley looked up and back at her in the eyes. She could see the burning intensity in those blue eyes, even when just talking about something as trivial as a 'job'. Bats picked them well.

"Hmmm, y'think? Yeah, I guess so..." Harley mused, half to herself and half to Batgirl. She was encouraging though, it was nice. If the job wasn't to rob a bank in two days time maybe she would have told the woman what it actually was. But then if she knew that, her advice would certainly be pretty different.

Quinn felt her face flush, not expecting her to be so forwards. There was a part of her, the old part of her, that wanted to kick Batgirl to the curb and let her deal with her problems. But then there was another part, a newer part, that felt bad for her and it made her feel bad in her heart. B-girl had been nice to her, real nice, and was suffering from a major loss. It wasn't right. Harley or Harleen, she wasn't sure - but the pang of conscience struck her hard looking at that face about to burst into tears.

"Uh... I only gots the one mattress, and my place is real messy right now. Smells pretty gross too, but if really wannaaaa then... yes, you can stay." She smiled sweetly. "It'll be like a sleepover. Except instead of your pyjamas, you're dressed all up like a bat." Harley wiped her face with her napkin, staining it white, then shot up from the table dramatically. "C'mon, let's get the hell outta here, Batsie." She took her by the hand.

[Personal Freedom]

Jervis Tetch, The (Real) Mad Hatter
East End

"Julio, come look at this fucker!" yelled a teenager in a hoodie as he gestured towards the crumpled figure of an old man, dressed in orange, beaten and bloody, lying in the alleyway. Down the metal fire escape on the side of one of the decaying brick walk-ups came another teenager, a soccer uniform wearing young man with short dark hair and an athletic build. He took one look at the man's crumpled form and shouted back.

"Man, what the fuck is he wearing? That looks like one of those prison monkey suits, man." Julio descended the stairs to get a closer look at the man. "Shit, this guy's all kinds of fucked up."

"What's that writing, Julio, on the suit?"

"I don't know, looks like an ID number. He's a convict, man. We should probably call the cops. There might be a reward, and frankly, we could use the money," Julio stated.

"Alright, I'll make the call," the other youth said as he pulled out his phone. "Sorry, bro, but if the cops want you, we aren't going to stop 'em. Hello? Yes, I seem to have found an escaped prisoner...

Rashida Al-Ansari
Gotham Public Library

It was getting late, but she had found something interesting. The back archives of the library were always a wealth of information, they were the type of place to find one-hundred-year-old photographs, newspapers, and marriage announcements. It also had a variety of strange architectural information that really ought to not be so public. It was here that she had found the original 1880 floor plan to the Bingum Estate in all its opulence, which to be fair, was probably not representative of what it looked like now, however it should at least give a general idea of what it looked like inside. Rashida knew this, yet studied every detail. Ballrooms, billiards, and even a conservatory, it was liking looking at the mansion in Clue. Which of these features Ruth Bingum had chosen to preserve, Rashida had no way of knowing. Among the floor plans, there was more than the mansion itself. The guardhouse was also shown, and that really seemed unlikely to change too much. Rashida spent a long time going over the interior of the guardhouse and the mansion, and after taking some notes and doing some calculations on a spare sheet of paper nearby, prepared to leave the library. Rashida was just putting the drawer back after slipping the plans back in (she couldn't allow anyone to know what she was looking at) when something else in the drawer caught her eye.

A sewer map! No, a set of sewer maps going from the 1800's to the about a decade ago! These will be useful!

As Rashida began to unfold them on the table she thought about how she might utilize these. Looking at the 1880's maps she could clearly make out the wealthier areas of Gotham and it's suburbs. The sewers underneath the estates, of course, were not marked "Wayne Manor" or "Binghum" but all it would take was a map of Gotham to map the sewers to the streets. Luckily, she was in Gotham's archives and there was no shortage of maps. After working through the maps and locating the line that ran under the Bingham Estate, Rashida scrolled. Some notes on the margins suggested the estate itself had somehow seperated itself from the sewer line. What that meant, Rashida wasn't exactly sure. The sewer looked like it still went under the estate. It certainly still ran under the guardhouse, which appeared to still use the sewers even if the main building was no longer attached. Regardless of the situation, she needed this map, so without second thought she stuck the sewer map of the library's copier, knowing for a fact that this was not permitted, but doubting any librarian would stop her.

[Haedros 92712]

Whitesnake
On the hunt
5:20 PM

Whitesnake slipped carefully in through the garage door to the scene of where the museum robber had “died.” He searched the room. Black marks on the ground. Fire? No. Explosions. A few grenades were likely used. Bullet marks and casings still on the floor. Blood. He wasn’t going to find much here. He snapped a few pictures with his helmet, and then left.

The Gotham Morgue
5:47 PM

Breaking in through the ventilation had been easy. He slipped into the morgue. Here, he may be able to find some definitive evidence about the true identity of the Historian. First he went to the computer in one of the offices. A quick search through found his victim. He searched up where they were keeping the poor fuck. He also took a look at the autopsy. Just as he had suspected. Several bullet entry and exit wounds, as well as some broken ribs. Likely from the explosion... He then went to the storage area he was in. Upon pulling open the drawer, he found his man. Just as I thought. Different body types. This was a careless pick. The Historian was rushing. Whitesnake took a few pictures, and then left without a trace.

Driving home
6:02

New York, New York, I want to wake up, in a city that doesn’t sle- Caleb answered his phone. It was a call from an old friend, the guy who made his suits. “Hey, Caleb! So uh, I finished up that suit you requed for. Send it to the usual place?” Caleb grinned. “Yeah, Snugg, just send it there.” He then hung up. Change of plans. He turned right on Wenisk Blvd. instead of left. I needed a new suit anyways.

[United States of Brainy]

Batgirl

"Uh... I only gots the one mattress, and my place is real messy right now. Smells pretty gross too, but if really wannaaaa then... yes, you can stay." She smiled sweetly. "It'll be like a sleepover. Except instead of your pyjamas, you're dressed all up like a bat." Harley wiped her face with her napkin, staining it white, then shot up from the table dramatically. "C'mon, let's get the hell outta here, Batsie." She took her by the hand.

“REALLY?! You’ll let me stay at your place? Thank you! Thank you soooo much!”

She couldn’t believe it! She gave Harl such a look of gratitude before reaching out to hug her. While she embraced her, her chest heaved softly and low sobbing could be heard. But by the time she pulled away, the only evidence that she had been crying were her slightly red eyes. “Hey, if we’re gonna make this a sleepover then we have to do it right!” Despite everything, Babs was still a perfectionist after all! She insisted stopping at an all-night convenience store. Loaded up on ice cream, twinkies, whipped cream, potato chips, cheesecake, candy bars and soda! They also picked up an extra-large pizza with everything on it!

“Do you have Netflix?” she asked. As they were walking, Babs began to notice the neighborhood, the trash on the sidewalks and the smell. “You live here?” There was genuine pity in her voice. “You know…if you want, I can loan you money.”

They walked up the flight of stairs to Harley’s apartment. As they stood outside the door, Babs felt it was incumbent to repeat what she had told Harl earlier. “Just so you know again, I disabled all the trackers on my costume and turned off my phone. No one knows where I am and I’m not going to tell anyone where you live. It’s our secret. And speaking of secrets, I have one I need to tell you but I’ll wait until we get inside.”

[Main Nation Ministry]

Joseph Coyne

Joseph was wearing casual clothes, as he was in the grocery store at the aisle check-out, having woke up early to make sure no one was hogging the junk food aisle. The cashier was scanning some of the food he brought, where after paying, the cashier gave him some change, which was mostly nickels and pennies. "Keep the nickels." Coyne said, taking the pennies for himself. "Excuse me, sir? You forgot your change?" the cashier said. "I said, keep the nickels." Coyne again said, as he left the store.

Driving his outdated and ugly car back to his establishment at the Penny Arcade, he parked his car, grabbing his groceries of two large brown paper bags in his hands and shoulders. Coyne was about to head inside, until he heard the sounds of a couple of people laughing and an elderly man begging for help. It was coming from an alleyway nearby. Still carrying his bags, he walked to the alley for the source of the sounds. Around the corner, three teenage punks were kicking a grey-bearded hobo on the ground. A guitar was against the hobo, as his hand was clutched tightly around the neck. One of the punks suddenly noticed Coyne standing there and said, "Beat it, if you know what's good for ya!"

"My guess is that you going to continue kicking him?"
"I said, beat it!"
"I want his guitar." Coyne walked towards the hobo and stepped on his hand, clutching the guitar with his boot. The hobo immediately let go and grabbed his injured hand. "What's your beef?" one of the punks said.
"I'm just a man who is also interested in the money. Which you all are planning on use on some random drugs and alcohol." Coyne decided to kick the hobo as hard as he could to amuse the punks. "Now, scram!" Coyne yelled at the vagrant, as he darted out of the alley. "Follow me, boys. I might have some stuff you might be interested or you most likely are going to be arrested." Coyne led the punks to the front door of his penny acrade, as he let them all in.

"What is this? Granny's video game store?" a punk said.
"No, dear sir. This is my penny acrade. We do have video games. Some Pac-Man, Galaga, Joust, etc. There is some good old-fashioned machines you can use your pennies on. Hence the name."
"This is beyond old-school. This is like ancient!"
"You guys are have for money, right?"
"We pocketed some number 1's from the street musician that we were robbing."
"Well, I see myself as a businessman and I can offer to give you more money, if you help me with some business practices, I can offer to hire you."

Coyne was about a vague deal, until he was starting to give out signs to have the boys piece them together. "What I'm trying to say is that I'm willingly to get you a job doing what you boys have been doing at your best that you could." Coyne said, where the punks started to get interested. "What's your offer?" "My offer? I hire you and you get paid. Don't ask questions and don't reveal secrets to people outside of this establishment." Coyne said, as one of the punks finally spoke up after a brief silence. "Before we join your arcade or whatever, we have a favor you need to help us with."
"Shoot."
"Some scumbag keeps telling us we're not "adult" enough to watch a certain amount of movies that they offer in their store. We want to get back at him by robbing his store. Since you seem to have a thing for money, you can act as extra muscle or perhaps a lookout."
"You want me to help rob a store, so you can watch some violence and gore?"
"Well, sorta. I want you three to return here later after 1 PM. Do you guys have a car?"
"Pete has his girlfriend's car we can borrow." "The name isn't Pete!" As the punk said, till another one intervene to not call him Pete.
"And you're bringing weapons?"
"Baseball bats, really."
"Alright, sounds reasonable. Make sure you keep to the promise. And meet after 1 PM. You can go now, boys." Coyne said, dismissing the boys, as they left the store.

After they left, Coyne put his groceries on the kitchen counter and checked his bedroom cabinet for two pistols, while he started to whistle to himself.

[Vevengess Ary]

Hush
Hush leaned back in the creaky armchair situated inside the abandoned church that he’d bought cheap off the black market a few weeks ago. Hush peered at a group of his men and women traipsing in through the door, dragging behind them a screaming woman in blue uniform by her long black locks.

“Margot! How pleased I am that you could join me today.” Hush grabbed a bottle of champagne. “Care for a drink?”

The officer spat at him.

“Suit yourself.” He said, shrugging and smashing the bottle of poison on her head, oblivious to her yelps in pain.

“Officer Margot, oh Margot,” he whispered, grabbing her cheeks with his fleshy hands and leaning in close to her face. “You’ve still got that reward I fed to you?” She sulked at him, spitting out some obscene languages. Hush’s faithful bodyguards smashed her on the head with their clubs.

“Margot. 10,000 bucks. With an offer of more. You accepted it. You took the money...and now I hear rumours of you betraying me?” He leaned in even closer, so he could feel the traitorous cop’s breath on his face. “Tell me Martha. Who did you tell, eh? Who?”

The officer refused to talk. “A few more lashes, fellas! Until she talks!”

She winced as the whip cracked on her back. Hush had to give her credit, she endured it for a whole five minutes, but finally could ignore it no longer.

“Jim...I sent a report to Jim Gordon!” The thugs released her, and she dropped to the cold stone ground, picking up her head for one last comment.
“

“You...mother...fu....ck...ers...will never win.”

Hush smiled. “You know, my favorite philosopher, he once said: ‘A friend to all is a friend to none.’ It’s my guiding principle, darling.” He turned to his men.

“Put her in the chair.” The thugs dragged the cop to the infamous electric chair. Hush sniggered as he heard the shrieks.

[The Nordic Model]

Lady Clayface
Sondra traipsed to the front door of the elegant Roman architecture-like Gotham National Bank. Of course, right now, she wasn’t Sondra. She was Mr. Henry Finkleton, an elderly man who was a regular visitor to the financial institution.

“Mornin’, Mr. Duval,” Sondra said with a tip of her hat to the man at the front desk. Oh Sondra, she thought, what a gentleman you are!

“Good morning to you too, Mr. Finkleton. You’re very early! Your appointment to discuss your wife’s will is in half an hour,” the reply came back. “I’m sorry ’bout your wife, by the way. She was a lovely person. It must have been incredibly tough for you.”

Sondra gave him Mr. Finkelton’s best grin and leaned in. “Oh, it certainly was. Some say losing a spouse is just ‘tough.’ Well, I’d say its damn impossible!” The man at the front desk looked bewildered by the insensitive and, frankly, concerning, comment. Looking at her phone, Sondra said, “Well, can’t wait for the appointment. You know the saying: ‘Wherever there’s a will, there’s a relative! Thank god for that. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to use the restroom.” Sondra took leave of the man frightened man, who by now seemed to think that poor Mr. Finkleton was a serial killer.

Sondra walked down the long marble halls of the bank, quickly transforming into an employee with high level access to the coffers of the financial institution. Sondra strolled into Mr. Frank Odom’s office, which was currently vacant, and grabbed his set of keys off from the desk. Jingling them in her hands, she walked up to a locked vault which contained the gold bars of the bank. A few minutes later, she was making her escape from the bank by jogging down the halls, in her normal Clayface form. Unfortunately, she hadn’t stolen the bars in the most low-key way, choosing to just stuff them in a potato sack. Emergency systems had been set off. Breaking into a fast run, Sondra dashed for the door, ripping it open and darting through when she was caught in a chokehold by a security employee of the bank.

Transforming into a muscular Arnold Schwarzenegger, Sondra strangled the man.

“Hah,” she said to the dead body, “you just got terminated.” She slung the bag over her back, casually leaving the bank as all of the frightened guards ran away (they were merely armed with tasers). She felt invincible.

[Lic]

Alfred
Alfred smiled at the fidgety dog. In a swift motion, the affectionate butler grabbed the puppy and brought him over to the bathtub, dunking the pup in the batwater. He passionately scrubbed the sleek fur coat of the dog, despite the creature’s whimpers. “Oh Cooper,” Alfred said, “try to understand! How can I leave beautiful collie fur like that unclean?” The bathtime experience with Cooper was making Alfred nostalgic for the days with Ace. He and Damian used to crouch in the bathroom, heartily rubbing soap all over Ace, laughing all the time while the hound splashed them in protest. Those were the good days.

Dogs really were man’s best friend. Loyal to a fault.

---

Red Robin
20 minutes later
Tim whizzed down the road in his ferocious monster truck. Racing towards Sherman Fine’s coordinates, Tim got a short message from Alfred on his screen:

‘Robbery in progression at Gotham National Bank. Multiple perpetrators detected with same bag within 5 minutes.’

“There’s only one person that can be!” Tim yelled. Clayface!

He swiftly turned into Exit 19, following the road up to the bank next door. Just in time to witness Arnold Schwarzenegger strangle a poor security guard to death, and then seeing him turn back into the regular form of Clayface. Tim jumped out from his tall truck, signaling for the police cars behind him to hold their fire.

He yelled from atop the car.

“Hey mud-hut! Drop the cash! You can mold yourself all the moolah you want in jail.”

When the criminal made no sign of dropping the bag (as expected), Robin hopped off from the hood of the truck, making a few steps toward Lady Clayface.

“Look, Lady Ceramics, I’m giving you another chance. I don’t want to have to crack you like a China pot. Just leave the money! You’ll get leniency in court.”

Tim waited for the reaction.

---

The Spoiler
The new vigilante peered over the edge of her building. The bank was right across the street from her house. What a coincidence! Today was going to be her first day in action. The Spoiler pulled out her metal rod, ready for action. She carefully watched as Red Robin spoke, waiting for the chance to jump in.

[Skarten]

The Assailant

Jules looked at his wrist as he continued to ride forward in his Three-Wheeled motorcycle. He hoped that the information on the gadget of his wrist wasn't defective-apparently there was a ongoing robbery at the Gotham Bank, and this could prove to be a great opportunity to kickstart his career as a caped vigilante in Gotham City.If he was able to stop it, or at least aid whoever was there to stop the criminal(s) who were committing this act to be stopped, he would rapidly begin to win a spot in the roster of the heroes of Gotham, or so he hoped.


As he turned the corner, he could finally spot it. Policemen had made a "barricade" with their cars.Although it was a bit far, he could swear that past them there was a man in a spandex suit and a woman that looked like she was made of clay.Not a very ordinary sight, but Gotham had a long past with such things.In any case, he could spot an decent opening in the barricade made by the police, enough for his transport to get past it quickly.It was obvious that he had to use this if he wanted to take part in arresting this clay lady.

The Assailant prepared as he took the Kanabo Tetsubo from his back and began to rev up his three-wheeled motorcycle, preparing to charge.This would be a hell of a danger, and there was a great chance of him falling, getting caught by the thing, crashing at something or simply flipping over his transport before getting there.

But he would take it anyway.

The three-wheeled vehicle began to speed up as the man in Lamellar armor and Menpõ mask charged towards the opening, using one hand to steer and the other to hold the Kanabo war club.He rapidly made it past the blockade of policemen cars as he yelled for them to get out of the way, who watched in surprise as what they assumed was yet another vigilante appeared.Now the only thing that stood between him and his foe was the man in the spandex suit.Luckily, the loudness of his motorcycle together with his constant yelling meant that the vigilante was able to dodge just in time.Now, the way was clear.

Jules quickly reacted on what to do, as the distance closed between him and the (Most likely surprised) outlaw lady that was made of clay.He took up his Kanabo club up, preparing to attack, as he got closer, and closer, and closer...

TAK

The attack caused jules (who was in a rapidly moving motorcycle) to lose his balance, making his vehicle, together with him, go spinning around several times, unluckily throwing Jules of it (He did not suffer too much from the fall, may i add) between finally stopping several meters away from what he hoped was an unconscious criminal woman made of clay.Whether his attacked worked or not, one would not be able that a lot of courage was needed to accomplish this madman charge.

[Whalestron]

-Snip-

[The Nordic Model]

Lady Clayface

“Look, Lady Ceramics, I’m giving you another chance. I don’t want to have to crack you like a China pot. Just leave the money! You’ll get leniency in court.”

Sondra gawped at this annoying little smart-ass. Didn’t take her long to recognize Robin.

“You could have at least brought Bats, Woodpecker!” Flipping up her middle finger, she was preparing to duck into the crowd and transform into a police officer when this moron in a mask came zooming towards her on a derpy bike, swinging a weird club and topping it off with a blow to her head. But just before he hit her, Clayface transformed into a thick-skulled bald thug, though Sondra still fell flat to the ground. Her vision blurring and her head spinning, she staggered away from Robin. She couldn’t see the idiot who’d hit her, but she wasn’t too concerned about an amateur like that anyway. She still had the money, after all. That’s all she cared about.

[Lic]

Red Robin
Tim flew out of the way as this lunatic on a motorcycle charged towards Clayface. After smashing her on the head with a club, the man just fell off his bike.

Smooth.

“Yo!” Tim yelled at the reckless vigilante, heaving himself up from the asphalt ground, “Never rub another man’s rhubarb! And heroes definitely don’t try to beat a baddie by running other heroes over, that’s basic dude!”

Tim saw Clayface creeping away in his peripheral vision, although he was too far to tackle her. He chucked a Batarang at her, to no avail. That’s when Tim activated his new wings, flying up and trying to grab the villain. Unfortunately, his new gear didn’t slow down. He kept flying upwards and upwards, to no halt, leaving the crime scene beneath him and the crowd laughing at him as he desperately tried to control his wings.

Well. This is embarrassing.

Finally, the jets on his wings sputtered and stopped, resulting in Tim plummeting to the ground from 90 feet in the air.

The Spoiler
The purple masked vigilante leaped to the ground as she saw Robin flying up in the air. While everyone was distracted, The Spoiler slid through Clayface’s legs in a slick motion, grabbing the potato sack of stolen gold and handing it to an officer. She looked up, seeing Robin falling from the sky. Reaching out her arms, she caught him just in time. She saluted at him, and then clambered up the building away from the scene.

[Skarten]

The Assailant

“Yo! Never rub another man’s rhubarb! And heroes definitely don’t try to beat a baddie by running other heroes over, that’s basic dude!”

Once Jules's head had stopped spinning from the ordeal of falling, he began to try to get up, trying to lift himself from the cold asphalt before he could get back to standing, the man in spandex suit began to yell at him. From what the assailant made out of it, he said something about rhubarbs and running over him.Granted, he did nearly run over the caped vigilante, but it was rather complicated to find a way to relate that to a purple vegetable.

But before he could awnser, homewever, the spandex-wearing figure began to use some odd wings, trying towards the clay thing lady he had just hit with his kanabo just now.Jules was not able to hold back laugther, homewer, when this failed comically, resulting in the man to fly straight up, before collapsing and falling into the ground, just to be catched by an girl that was, what he theorized, yet another vigilante who was there to respond to the call.

The Assailant finally got up, and began to walk towards his motorcycle, looking for where he had left his Tetsubo war club.That thing was pretty expensive and made all the way in japan with authentic materials, he would probably not want to lose it.Sure,he was rather wealthy, but it still would be a pretty big loss for him.
I probably shoudn't spend so much money on authentic foreign weaponry if i'll just use it to bash the skulls of criminals

[The Nordic Model]

Clayface
In the chaos of Robin bickering with this masked hero, then flying up and miserably failing to catch her, and then seeing Robin plummet to the ground, Sondra didn’t notice this little squirt slip through her legs and steal her bag of bank bars. When she saw the vigilante in a purple hoodie toss the bag to a cop, Clayface was enraged. Just as she was going to beat the crap out of that cop, she saw all the officers with their weapons aimed at her. She was standing face-to-face with Robin and a little dog next to him.

“Freeze! Hands in the air or WE WILL FIRE!” She was surrounded.

She reluctantly put her hands in the air. She was couldn’t think of a bulletproof hero she could turn into. She didn’t even know if she could replicate others powers. Two officers cautiously slapped handcuffs on her wrists and forced her into an armored police car. She quickly turned to Robin.

“This isn’t the last you’ll see of me, punk!” With that, the officers shoved her into the car.

[United States of Brainy]

SPECIAL REPORT

"This is Summer Gleeson with Gotham Action 8 News, interrupting the final game of the World Cup between France and Croatia, to bring you a live press conference by the Mayor…okay, he’s just starting…"

“Ladies and gentlemen, I wish I could say that this is a good afternoon but it is not. In fact, this past weekend has arguably been the darkest two days in Gotham’s recent memory and certainly the darkest since I took office last fall. Just in the last 48 hours, we have seen a terrorist attack on the Gotham University campus, the destruction of the Gotham Docks, the looting of the Gotham Museum, an explosion at Wayne Enterprises and a mass break-out at Arkham Asylum. We still haven't rounded up all the dangerous, criminally insane supervillains that escaped. At least five dead at the docks, five dead at Wayne Enterprises, a dozen dead at Arkham, an untold number of injuries, not to mention millions, if not billions, of dollars in property damage.”

The Mayor collected his thoughts before continuing.

“And just today, there has been a brazen robbery at the central branch of the Gotham National Bank. But, while this crime was being committed, another crime, just as brazen and even more heinous was taking place at a mom and pop video store in the Lexington Heights section of the East End. Gladys and Joshua Hart, ages 66 and 68, were brutally beaten with baseball bats and shot in the head. They both died on the way to the hospital.”

Mayor Daley paused, his face tight and pained.

“And where were Gotham’s heroes? While Gladys and Joshua Hart were being beaten, these so-called heroes were fighting amongst themselves, acting not as adults but as children. Squabbling and brawling, nearly allowing a dangerous bank robber and supervillain to escape. Luckily, thankfully, our brave men and women in blue, the real heroes, were there to arrest Lady Clayface.”

Daley looked at the gathered reporters and the television audience at home.

“In the past, we could count on Batman. Count on his wisdom and experience and leadership. But since he has abandoned our city, all that we have left are immature, wet-behind-the-ears youngsters running around in tights. Running wild, wreaking havoc, all in the name of fighting crime. But crime has increased, not deceased, under the watch of Red Robin and his supposed Disciples. While I’m sure the lad’s heart is in the right place, his rash and reckless decisions have cost the lives of innocent people. Including the young crimefighter Robin, only a boy. It's sad and it's heartbreaking and it has to stop."

Daley stared straight at the camera.

“As a consequence, I am asking that the City Council draft emergency legislation to place all activities by these masked crimefighters under direct police supervision. I am also strengthening enforcement of the vigilantism laws already on the books. No longer will we turn a blind eye to the irresponsible actions of these so-called heroes.”

“Are we talking registration?” a reporter shouted out.

“All options are on the table.”

“Does this have anything to do with Red Robin riding around in a monster truck and terrifying motorists and pedestrians?” another reporter wanted to know.

“It certainly isn’t helping,” the mayor responded sharply. “Okay, thank you, ladies and gentlemen, thank you.”

“Okay, this is Summer Gleeson and there you have it. The end of Gotham’s crimefighters? We’ll have to wait and see. Now, back to the World Cup final, already in progress….”

[Whalestron]

Cooper

The bath was far more pleasant than any Cooper had taken in the past, all of which had involved a hose and soapy water. This one was warm, and the soap Alfred used left his skin feeling much cleaner. His fur had a new shine to it, no longer blackened by dirt or ash. Cooper enjoyed it so much he almost didn’t notice it was over. Once he was taken out, Cooper gave his fur a shake, wettening just about everything in the bathroom, including Alfred who had been in a close proximity to the dog.

Cooper gave a short bark of excitement before bouncing out of the bathroom. He knew exactly where he was going to go; right to Tim. Surely he’d be excited to see Cooper all cleaned up. He ran so fast he almost missed the teen's room, nuzzling his way past the door. His tail stopped wagging once he noticed Tim wasn’t in there.

Despite his absence, however, Tim's scent lingered. Cooper got a good sniff before he figured he had the scent. He began floating up towards the window, using his paws to lift it. The collie then flew outside, hot on the trail of Robin.

Cooper arrived at the scene by foot, sniffing the ground with the focus of a bloodhound. It was at that point he spotted him, taunting that weird looking man who must have been some criminal. He barked giddily, running right up to Tim. He wasn’t aware that jumping up on his chest to lick him wasn’t a good idea at this very moment, but he did it anyway.

[Haedros 92712]

SPECIAL REPORT

"This is Summer Gleeson with Gotham Action 8 News, interrupting the final game of the World Cup between France and Croatia, to bring you a live press conference by the Mayor…okay, he’s just starting…"

“Ladies and gentlemen, I wish I could say that this is a good afternoon but it is not. In fact, this past weekend has arguably been the darkest two days in Gotham’s recent memory and certainly the darkest since I took office last fall. Just in the last 48 hours, we have seen a terrorist attack on the Gotham University campus, the destruction of the Gotham Docks and an explosion at Wayne Enterprises. At least five dead at the docks, five dead at Wayne Enterprises and an untold number of injuries, not to mention millions, if not billions, of dollars in property damage.”

The Mayor collected his thoughts before continuing.

“And just today, there has been a brazen robbery at the central branch of the Gotham National Bank. But, while this crime was being committed, another crime, just as brazen and even more heinous was taking place at a mom and pop video store in the Lexington Heights section of the East End. Gladys and Joshua Hart, ages 66 and 68, were brutally beaten with baseball bats and shot in the head. They both died on the way to the hospital.”

Mayor Daley paused, his face tight and pained.

“And where were Gotham’s heroes? While Gladys and Joshua Hart were being beaten, these so-called heroes were fighting amongst themselves, acting not as adults but as children. Squabbling and brawling, nearly allowing a dangerous bank robber and supervillain to escape. Luckily, thankfully, our brave men and women in blue, the real heroes, were there to arrest Lady Clayface.”

Daley looked at the gathered reporters and the television audience at home.

“In the past, we could count on Batman. Count on his wisdom and experience and leadership. But since he has abandoned our city, all that we have left are immature, wet-behind-the-ears youngsters running around in tights. Running wild, wreaking havoc, all in the name of fighting crime. But crime has increased, not deceased, under the watch of Red Robin and his supposed Disciples. While I’m sure the lad’s heart is in the right place, his rash and reckless decisions have cost the lives of innocent people.”

Daley stared straight at the camera.

“As a consequence, I am asking that the City Council draft emergency legislation to place all activities by these masked crimefighters under direct police supervision. I am also strengthening enforcement of the vigilantism laws already on the books. No longer will we turn a blind eye to the irresponsible actions of these so-called heroes.”

“Are we talking registration?” a reporter shouted out.

“All options are on the table.”

“Does this have anything to do with Red Robin riding around in a monster truck and terrifying motorists and pedestrians?” another reporter wanted to know.

“It certainly isn’t helping,” the mayor responded sharply. “Okay, thank you, ladies and gentlemen, thank you.”

“Okay, this is Summer Gleeson and there you have it. The end of Gotham’s crimefighters? We’ll have to wait and see. Now, back to the World Cup final, already in progress….”

Whitesnake
The streets of the east end
7:08 PM

Whitesnake leaped down from the roof, his suit making a metallic clank as it hit the ground. He heard a chirp from within his helmet. “Sir, it’s Elton here. There is a rather interesting special report I’d think you’d like to hear.” It was then that the mayors announcement came in over his helmet. His stomach lurched. He scowled. I can’t believe this. Fucking shitheads want to put us under supervision? Goddamnit. It was then that he heard shouting in an alleyway. A young woman. A group of men. White snake ran to intervene immediately. He grimaced. Two of them had guns. Another had a metal baseball bat. He final one had a knife. The punks turned around to face him. They didn’t hesitate. One thug fired his gun. It bounced off the plating. The other punk did the same, unloading a clip into his armor. Caleb wasted not time either. He dashed forward and faced the punks head on. He punched one of them in the stomach. He fell to the floor, the wind knocked out of him. Another, the one with the bat, took a swing at him. He ducked under he bat caught his wrist, and kicked him with enough force to launch him back and pull the arm out of its socket. One of the gunman had reloaded and prepared to empty another clip into him, and that’s when the police sirens began blaring behind them. “Hands up! You’re all under arrest! You there, in the mask! You are in violation of multiple vigilante laws! I’m going to have to ask you to remove your mask and submit your identity to the GCPD!” Caleb didn’t think. He couldn’t be caught, and he knew it. If they knew what he was... no, it couldn’t happen. He withdrew his gun, and fired. It was supposed to be a warning shot to startle them, hit the officer in the knee. But at this moment the officer, the officer ducked down. Presumably to avoid the bullet. But this didn’t work out. Dead on in the head. The officer fell to the floor. The other officer in the car drew his gun. But Caleb had already run away into the night. But no matter where he went now, it was too late. He was sure he would appear in the news as a stain upon vigilantes. A criminal, and the one who sealed the fate of Gotham’s heroes.

Meanwhile
Somewhere...
Bane

A dark, hulking figure sat on the couch of a dingy, rented apartment. He watched the World Cup, when a special interruption cut off the game. The man watched the press conference unfold. And he grinned. He removed a laptop from a nearby table. He set it on a desk covered in microphones and recording equipment. The World Cup was interrupted once again. On every TV screeen in Gotham, a white expanse fillled the screen. And then, one word. “Bane.” And then a voice filled the silence. A deep, distorted voice that seemed to be overplayed by a layer of static and warble effect. And yet still audible in every word. “Greetings citizens of Gotham. I, am Bane. As you have all likely seen, the mayor now takes action against a threat. However, you may not consider as such. Some of you call them “heroes...” However, these people are not heroes. They are almost certainly a threat. A threat to Gotham. And they must be stopped. Before they destroy us all. We do not know these people, and yet we trust them with our lives, our homes, our families, our safety. No longer. Do not trust these heroes. Reject their help, drive them away into whatever shadow they came from. Hunt these menaces down, those brave enough to do so. Protest in the streets. Call out to your city for the immediate termination of any vigilante program. Increase the laws, outlaw these so called heroes, exterminate the threat. For your safety, for Gotham’s safety, do this. Keep my words in mind Gotham.” And the interruption cut back to the game with no further ceremony, leaving Gotham to ponder as to who Bane was, and if he truly was a man to trust.

[Whalestron]

Madison Clifford
East End

Unbeknownst to the vigilante, a third cop had been in the general area, responding to a request for backup made by the two who’d just been murdered before her very eyes. She hit the breaks on the unmarked car, opening and closing the door. Madison stepped into a puddle as she took off at a run after Whitesnake. She grabbed her walkie-talkie as she went, speaking into it.

“Two officers down on the corner of Clancy and Forrester Boulevard, I’m pursuing the killer now.”

She bolted after him into the alley, leaping neatly over a pile of garbage and broken glass. She was hot on his tail, and from the sound of her shoes hitting the ground, she was gaining on him.

[Haedros 92712]

Madison Clifford
East End

Unbeknownst to the vigilante, a third cop had been in the general area, responding to a request for backup made by the two who’d just been murdered before her very eyes. She hit the breaks on the unmarked car, opening and closing the door. Madison stepped into a puddle as she took off at a run after Whitesnake. She grabbed her walkie-talkie as she went, speaking into it.

“Two officers down on the corner of Clancy and Forrester Boulevard, I’m pursuing the killer now.”

She bolted after him into the alley, leaping neatly over a pile of garbage and broken glass. She was hot on his tail, and from the sound of her shoes hitting the ground, she was gaining on him.

Whitesnake

Somebody was in pursuit. They were fast, faster than him. He turned down a corner, and then another. And then, he withdrew his handgun from the holster, and from its sheath the wakizashi. He turned one more corner and then turned on his heel and aimed his gun behind him, positioning his blade beneath the barrel of the handgun. He murmured to Elton. “Pull up a map of the area, plan out an escape route, and analyze my pursuer. Give me info on their equipment, their body type, such and such. Make it quick...” He then looked up to his pursuer, who he now saw was a woman. “Please, back down. I don’t want to harm you. Stand down, and end your pursuit.”

[Whalestron]

Madison Clifford

Madison slowed down once she got a clear visual of the assailant. She stared at him, not raising her hands in a show of surrender. She had a frown fixed upon her face as she spoke clearly to Whitesnake. “Sure doesn't look that way from the shape you left those officers in back there.” She said coldly. Madison eyed the man up, taking in whatever details she could from what she saw and heard now.

He had some expensive gear on. Things she’d expect a mercenary to use. He was obviously male, both his posture and voice told her that. But there was another thing, too. Madison narrowed her eyes as she realized it. “So, you gonna shoot me too? I don’t have a vest on right now.” She said, motioning to her almost civilian outfit. The only thing that would brand her as a cop was her badge and ID.

[Haedros 92712]

Madison Clifford

Madison slowed down once she got a clear visual of the assailant. She stared at him, not raising her hands in a show of surrender. She had a frown fixed upon her face as she spoke clearly to Whitesnake. “Sure doesn't look that way from the shape you left those officers in back there.” She said coldly. Madison eyed the man up, taking in whatever details she could from what she saw and heard now.

He had some expensive gear on. Things she’d expect a mercenary to use. He was obviously male, both his posture and voice told her that. But there was another thing, too. Madison narrowed her eyes as she realized it. “So, you gonna shoot me too? I don’t have a vest on right now.” She said, motioning to her almost civilian outfit. The only thing that would brand her as a cop was her badge and ID.

“I will if I have to. The kill was an accident. I was aiming low, and he ducked into the bullet. If he hadn’t ducked, he would’ve been hit in the thigh. Now please, back off now. I don’t want to kill another innocent. Please.” Caleb shifted his stance, bending his knees a bit, shifting his finger away from the trigger slightly, readying his blade. “Please miss, don’t make me kill you. If it came down to it, I would win, so please don’t try.” Elton chirped into his ear. “Sir, I have planned our route. I have also analyzed the woman, and what she says is true. She doesn’t have any protective gear equipped. But she does have a handgun. Her stance suggests combat experience and skill. Exercise caution.”

[Lic]

Red Robin

Cooper arrived at the scene by foot, sniffing the ground with the focus of a bloodhound. It was at that point he spotted him, taunting that weird looking man who must have been some criminal. He barked giddily, running right up to Tim. He wasn’t aware that jumping up on his chest to lick him wasn’t a good idea at this very moment, but he did it anyway.

Tim ogled at the dog, completely perplexed by the turn of events. One moment he’s falling to his imminent death, the next some purple hero saves his ass and then runs away...and then the cops just arrest clayface. It was almost as if Tim was useless. He looked down at his new dog, almost sure it was the demonic dog from yesterday...Whatever, Tim, you’re an idiot.

“Hey boy,” he said, patting the dog, “What’re you...you shouldn’t be here! How’d you get here!” Tim realized how awkward it was to be talking to his dog while an arrest was in procedure in front of a public who seemed really pissed at Tim for his uselessness right now.

“Ahem,” he said, approaching the officer, giving a slight salute, “Uh, thanks. Mind if I, uh, ask her some questions? It’d take a bit off your hands.”

“You’ve done quite enough, you obnoxious son of a bitch.” The reply hit Tim in the stomach like a flying bullet.

He sheepishly walked away. “Come on, boy.” He said to his dog, hopping into his truck with the puppy and heading home.

Some hours later
Tim was closely studying the security cams that caught images of the heroic masked vigilante who’d saved Tim today when the Mayor’s press conference started. Did nothing to help Tim’s mood.

SPECIAL REPORT

"This is Summer Gleeson with Gotham Action 8 News, interrupting the final game of the World Cup between France and Croatia, to bring you a live press conference by the Mayor…okay, he’s just starting…"

“Ladies and gentlemen, I wish I could say that this is a good afternoon but it is not. In fact, this past weekend has arguably been the darkest two days in Gotham’s recent memory and certainly the darkest since I took office last fall. Just in the last 48 hours, we have seen a terrorist attack on the Gotham University campus, the destruction of the Gotham Docks, the looting of the Gotham Museum, an explosion at Wayne Enterprises and a mass break-out at Arkham Asylum. We still haven't rounded up all the dangerous, criminally insane supervillains that escaped. At least five dead at the docks, five dead at Wayne Enterprises, a dozen dead at Arkham, an untold number of injuries, not to mention millions, if not billions, of dollars in property damage.”

The Mayor collected his thoughts before continuing.

“And just today, there has been a brazen robbery at the central branch of the Gotham National Bank. But, while this crime was being committed, another crime, just as brazen and even more heinous was taking place at a mom and pop video store in the Lexington Heights section of the East End. Gladys and Joshua Hart, ages 66 and 68, were brutally beaten with baseball bats and shot in the head. They both died on the way to the hospital.”

Mayor Daley paused, his face tight and pained.

“And where were Gotham’s heroes? While Gladys and Joshua Hart were being beaten, these so-called heroes were fighting amongst themselves, acting not as adults but as children. Squabbling and brawling, nearly allowing a dangerous bank robber and supervillain to escape. Luckily, thankfully, our brave men and women in blue, the real heroes, were there to arrest Lady Clayface.”

Daley looked at the gathered reporters and the television audience at home.

“In the past, we could count on Batman. Count on his wisdom and experience and leadership. But since he has abandoned our city, all that we have left are immature, wet-behind-the-ears youngsters running around in tights. Running wild, wreaking havoc, all in the name of fighting crime. But crime has increased, not deceased, under the watch of Red Robin and his supposed Disciples. While I’m sure the lad’s heart is in the right place, his rash and reckless decisions have cost the lives of innocent people. Including the young crimefighter Robin, only a boy. It's sad and it's heartbreaking and it has to stop."

Daley stared straight at the camera.

“As a consequence, I am asking that the City Council draft emergency legislation to place all activities by these masked crimefighters under direct police supervision. I am also strengthening enforcement of the vigilantism laws already on the books. No longer will we turn a blind eye to the irresponsible actions of these so-called heroes.”

“Are we talking registration?” a reporter shouted out.

“All options are on the table.”

“Does this have anything to do with Red Robin riding around in a monster truck and terrifying motorists and pedestrians?” another reporter wanted to know.

“It certainly isn’t helping,” the mayor responded sharply. “Okay, thank you, ladies and gentlemen, thank you.”

“Okay, this is Summer Gleeson and there you have it. The end of Gotham’s crimefighters? We’ll have to wait and see. Now, back to the World Cup final, already in progress….”

“Sir, your vichyssoise,” Alfred said, serving Tim the dish.

“Registration my ass,” Tim muttered softly.

“Something the matter, sir?” Alfred asked, patting Cooper who was perched next to him.

“This buffoon. He’s probably owned by the mob and he blames it on us. We’ll have NO autonomy! I’ll have a cop on my butt 24/7.” Tim dialed his cop buddy’s number. Chief Harvey oughta help him out, stretch a few rules.

“Sounds to me like you could use the help.” Alfred said. Tim glared at Alfred. That’s when the screen was interrupted by a...

Tim’s eyes were glued to the screen. After it was over, Tim spoke in tiny voice.

“Alfred. It’s a conspiracy. We’re at war.”

[Whalestron]

Madison Clifford

The cop smirked. “So, you got a name?” She asked him. “I’m not talking about your real one, I mean that fun one that you use like a codename.” She looked him over once more, holding up a finger. “Nah, let me guess. Ghost? No, too generic. How about Supremist.” Madison grinned at her own joke. The small talk was a sham, she was trying to keep him talking until backup arrived. She was truly sickened to her stomach by this guy. The act took most of her willpower to control it, forcing herself to keep the indifferent grin.