What happened

After running into Tim and sending him on his way to Barbara, downstairs, Bruce headed upstairs himself. The knock on Dick's door went unanswered. But there was a rustling...Bruce knocked again, and then opened the door slowly. Carefully. The bedroom was empty. But the window was opened. Papers from the table in the corner had caught in the influx of wind, and were blowing across the room sporadically. That was what he had heard.

The door closed behind him as he walked through Dick's room and stopped at the open window. He listened a few seconds, heard nothing troubling, and then leaned carefully out the window. Checked swiftly for trouble. And found the tip of Dick's boot jutting from the rooftop ledge overhead. This is what came of letting him have a bedroom on the highest floor of the manor, he though to himself. Shedding his suit coat, he ducked out of the window, then followed the boy's path up to the roof. When he pulled himself up onto the roof and sat down nearby, Bruce took the time to stare out over the City.

It was not his home. There were parts of it that looked familiar -- Arkham, for example -- but this place was not Gotham. The thought occurred to him that it might be useless, what he was doing (what they all were doing). What was the point of fighting crime in a place where, by all reckonning, the city itself created the criminals? He scowled, and turned to Dick.

"Plans tonight?"

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Characters: Earth 2's Huntress and Daredevil
Summary: Just your average rooftop meeting, in an attempt to fight and prevent crime.

Wayne Scott may not have been aware of it, but he was in big trouble. The man who had more than once provided an alibi for various gangsters in the City had finally grown a conscience and attempted to quit the business.

However, most who were on mobster payrolls were smart enough to know that it was one job that you couldn't quit. Ever. There was a lifetime contract that involved not only yourself, but everyone you'd ever cared for as well.

Huntress quickly leapt the space between two rooftops without looking down, dropping to a crouch as she surveyed the streets below. The black towncar had disappeared from view in the time she had taken to cross the rooftops.

Briefly she thought of how much easier this would be if she had remembered to bring the commlink that Barbara had supplied her with on arrival in the City.

But she'd been avoiding Barbara for months now. It had just become too painful to work with the people who had made up her family in another world, and not be remembered, or known. Not to mention the fact that Barbara herself seemed to have, in a way, held Helena's place in their world. It was clear how fond Bruce was of her. The daughter he never had.

She sighed to herself. Not that she begrudged Barbara anything. Nor did she begrudge this version of her father a daughter.

Nonetheless, it was painful. Being around the City's Bruce Wayne only served to remind her of what she had turned her back on. Of what had been lost due to her own carelessness and deceit.

A shrill scream penetrated her thoughts, clearing her mind as her body sprang into action, using a zipline to lower herself to a nearby balcony, readying a batarang as she landed, watching the action, and waiting for her cue to jump in.

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"What—"

Babs held up a hand, silencing the younger man behind her. She needed to gain her bearings in her own house, and while she knew Kyle was as shocked as she was she needed him to be as quiet as she was. She needed to concentrate.

Her eyes ran over the bottom floor of her home critically. Silence except for small footfalls coming from the second floor. Jake. Then that was where all the action had taken place. Babs kept her hand up, and kept looking. They were the only three in the house and upon figuring that out she let out a sigh of relief.

"Go find Batman." Babs looked back at him out of the corner of her eye. He'd been with her for the afternoon as she worked. He'd flown over Arkham for her, reporting back on the little he'd been able to see. Kyle knew what she expected. "Go. Tell him what's happened here. And then patrol. It's going to be all night."

"And you?"

She looked up at the ceiling. "Jake is upstairs." Meaning she would be too. Her fingers gripped the staff under the armrest of her chair.

Kyle simply nodded, suiting up as he did so. Very easy for him, Babs watched approvingly and when he took off, flying out of the open door, she frowned slightly. There was so much to do, so many out in the field tonight, and here she was at home. Because of Jack.

So fun to deal with break-ins when there was real work to be done. Babs sighed, and headed over to the elevator.

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House stood in the former lobby of the Arkam Asylum. It shared more in common with barn now than it did a lobby. It was obvious that the prisoners were running the prison or something of that affair. None of that was his business. Unless they touched his cane. Then they might have a problem. He took down the drawing for him. It had a quasi-map scribbled on it as well as a doodle of himself.

He didn’t have that many wrinkles did he?

In the right pocket of his coat was a former pill-container turned transporter. It held Experiment 1. A sticky sludge with opposite components to what he’d deciphered from The Joker’s writing. Sadly, there wasn’t a hobo melted into it. There may have been horse. Horse found itself in so many strange products whether they be medical or not.

Cane made thuds along the trail the drawing had indicated for him to meet. He was pretty sure there was a man licking the wall to the left of him. He decided it was best not to look. If he did, he may lose the day and end up watching for hours. The City continued to interest him more and more.

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Characters: Jennie, anyone else who would like to join in
Setting: Starbucks
Summary: She was gone, now she's back. The City certainly does some wacky things...



Cynthia's cafe had been one of Jennie's favorite places in New York. She'd found it on one particularly blustery morning while trudging home from her classes. And no matter how hard she tried, she hadn't been able to find it during her time in the City.

It had been odd. One morning, two months ago, she'd been on her way to work in the City, and had turned down a street, only to find herself in front of Cynthia's.

She'd assumed it meant that the City had finally sucked in her favorite place to sip lattes, but on returning home to her apartment... As in *her* apartment, and not just the one she had found in the City, she had found her Kyle.

Actually, oddly enough, her Kyle hadn't been sick with worry, and even more, hadn't been still waiting in bed after a wonderful first date.

No, instead, her Kyle seemed to have taken up residence in her apartment. In fact, quite frequently, he'd referred to it as 'our' apartment.

Knowing better than to let on that there was anything odd about this, Jennie had resigned herself to yet another changing reality. It had surprised her how easily she had melted into cohabitation. How much she had missed the way Kyle looked at her-the way he knew her better than anyone. The way that he could tell, with just a glance, what she was thinking and how she was feeling.

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Snow herself, had not slept after Bigby had been forcibly expelled from her bedroom. She'd been much to worked up to think about getting any rest, or closing her eyes or anything. She didn't trust this Bigby enough not to do what she said, since he'd clearly couldn't understand the simple concept that she was not nor had never been pregnant by him.

Around five in the morning, she'd pulled herself out of bed, and had drawn herself a hot, steamy bath, in one of the over-the-top spas that this apartment seemed to have coming out of its ears. For another hour or so she relaxed in the bath, occasionally playing with the bubbles that had come out of no where, but mostly just brooding.

By six, she'd pulled herself from the bath, and had climbed into the clothes she'd been wearing when she'd driven into this god-forsaken city. With cane in hand, she pulled all of the cash from Charming's wallet (Alimony, she justified it as in her head) and pushed it into a pocket. She had some shopping to do. Clothes, both functional day clothes, the usual underwear and pyjamas, and maybe one nice dress. You never knew when you might need a nice dress.

By seven, she was eating a nice breakfast in a nice cafe, with a good strong cup of coffee nursed between her hands. She dearly hoped that Bigby had decided that tailing after her and watching her would not be a smart move today. Snow really needed a little me time, and since she had a wad of cash in her pocket, retail therapy seemed the best way to go.

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Prince Charming sat in the foyer of the buidling-not-called-the-Woodlands, and rubbed his temple gently. He did not sleep well last night; some people obviously had never shared an apartment with others, and therefore unaware of the common coutesies of coinhabiting- yelling loudly was very out.

His two roommate obviously had unresolved issues. He was not going to stick around, just in case there was a big heart to heart and everyone had to participate.

Kristy the front desk girl waved at him. He waved back.

The thought occurred to him that perhaps he ought to go for a walk- maybe get some breakfast- but he didn't budge from the comfortable spot on the sofa. Because it was comfortable, and he was too tired to make any sort of effort to move.
Tags: prince charming, maxine gibbons

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She hadn't really wanted to head into The City Commons, spaces like it made her nervous and the fact that little bits of Central Park had seemed to have found there way here? Well it made her break out into a cold sweat. She comforted herself with the fact that it was light out, this was not New York, and she would be prepared now if anything should happen.

The Kate Bishop who had been attacked in New York's Central Park hadn't been a Young Avenger, and she hadn't been … well whatever Kate was now. She was going to have to mention to Max that they needed a name (especially if they where bringing this Jake on board).

Names could be worried about later, because Kate had come here on a mission, she needed to practice her aim. She had been all right in the dust up with those robbers, but she needed more practice, and she wanted to practice outside where there was wind, and noise and other distractions.

So here she was, in an out of the way section of the City Commons and taking aim at a tree she had sketched out a target on. In retrospect she wished she had invited Max along for this session the other girl could have helped her carry some real targets.

Sure, she figured she might look strange, but this City was full of the weird and odd. Kate figured next to some of the things she had seen (like that guy in the cloak with the glowing eyes on her first day here) a teenager girl playing Robin Hood would seem downright normal.

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She was running through a forest. It was thick and dark, and the air was cold and moist as she breathed heavily, panting and puffing as she tried to get as much air into her lungs as possible. She ducked under low-hanging vines, and leaped over logs that lay across the path. Occasionally, she'd frantically glance behind her, where she saw flashes of something menacing. It was chasing her, and she knew the minute that she stopped running, whatever it was would waste no time in devouring her whole.

One shoe-less foot landed in a shallow puddle, and the slime and goop squished between her toes disgustingly. She powered on, though, ignoring the discomfort, until her slippery foot landed on a strangely smooth rock. Between the rock and her wet toes, she lost her balance, and flipped head over heels, landing on her stomach, face planted in the thick mouldy leaf-litter of the forest floor. Whatever it was that was chasing her was only a few seconds away from her, but when she tried to push herself off the ground, she found her legs weak and unresponsive, barely able to move by themselves.

It was like a horrible flashback to her rehabilitation. The disgusting amount of effort it took her to do the simplest things, like walking, or even rotating her ankles, had returned, and she was just as crippled as she'd been before. Her hands moved wildly, trying to press herself up into a crawling position, but by then the monster was looming over her. Sharp wolf teeth glistened inches from her eyes, before the huge mouth opened wide and took her head off with one bite.

Snow thrashed out frantically, kicking out through the tangled bed sheets, and hitting something particularly solid, snapping her out of the dream instantly. Her eyes opened wide, and she looked around disorientated-- she was lying on her stomach, in the room Charming had provided her with...

And she wasn't alone.

She let out a quick shriek.

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Jake had taken Barbara's warnings seriously. He may have been only eleven, but he was far from stupid. Only a fool would have ignored the fear and the concern in Bab's mind.

His first order of business, after making sure the doors were locked and the alarms set, was to venture up to the attic and retrieve his guns. The first was in a shoulder holster - what Roland (and subsequently, Jake) referred to as a docker's clutch. It felt comfortable there. The weight was familiar, soothing. Like an old friend that had been waiting to give aid and comfort.

The second gun was slung low on his hip. He wasn't expecting anyone else to come home until Babs did, so walking around with the guns strapped on. If Roland wandered back this way, Jake knew the gunslinger would only approve of the weapons.

He locked up the elevator once he was back downstairs and went to the kitchen to find something good and edible -- something that wasn't ice cream -- for himself and Oy. Of course he knew ice cream wasn't dinner. But ice cream certainly was dessert.

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The helicopter landed just as Lex had promised, and Jack climbed inside with two large boxes of flyers. The door was left open because of what he had to do, and he just didn't want to try to fuck with it when they were up in the air. His luck, he'd fall out somehow.

When they were well over the city, smack dab in the center of it, Jack opened first one box and then the other. He dumped them both out.

Fluttering over the people below were hundreds, thousands of flyers. All with the same thing on them. Going in every direction the wind carried them.

Jack smiled.


From: i_playhard Date: 07/26/2006 12:45:06

Harley had been walking along (okay more like skipping) when something fell down in front of her path. She nearly stepped on it but something compelled her to pick it up instead. Reading it slowly, to take in what it said, she began to jump around clapping her hands.

"MISTAH J!" she chanted skipping around.

This called for a visit back to Arkham.

It was when she returned home, for what was supposed to be a short break to grab some supplies, that she finally got a camera to work. One camera in the entire building, which was outfitted with over thirty, but it was still a major accomplishment and Babs wasn't going to complain. She got the thing to face away from one of the dirty toilets first off. She was tired of staring at the things, but had been for a good few hours now as she tried to fix her connections in Arkham. She wanted her video back, she wanted her camera mobility back, and she wanted sound.

She'd finally stopped trying to get sound right before lunch, but she was determined to be able to move the damned cameras. Maybe it was something about her hacking abilities from her home computer or maybe Jack was just having a little fun. Either way, Babs was glad for it

She wrote down each thing she'd done before the camera had started working, hoping to be able to repeat it when she got back to the manor. There were quite a few steps to the process, some which Babs wasn't even sure had effected it at all, but she was willing to write them down anyway. She didn't mind the wracking of her brain, it just took staying focused. A task which was harder than it seemed when she was concentrating on the view her one camera afforded her as well.

Babs was an attentive person, and her eyes kept flicking up to the screen, hoping to see something of note. Perhaps a guard left alive whose frequency she could hack into to contact. A group of the remaining prisoners so that she could get an approximate body count for Bruce. A note of some sort left lying around, and sort of clue.

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It had been only a week since she'd lost Donna, which was only a short time after she'd lost her mother, and Diana was definitely feeling the pain. Usually stoic, shrugging emotions off like punches, this turn of events had her feeling like Superman had a training session with her heart. Knowing she couldn't allow herself to wallow, Diana threw herself into work and life. Today she was going to have lunch with a publisher in Central City to discuss the plans for the book she was laying out.

Attention from the masses was the last thing she wanted right now, so she left the tiara and gauntlets at home, and just wore jeans and a light tee shirt to blend, though flat shoes still left her towering over most people she walked past. Diana's mind wandered a moment to Cassie, hoping she was sticking to the regimen she'd set of her, and not doing anything foolish to get herself in trouble.

In a blink, Diana was back to her senses, but she was sure they were fooling her. It was dark now, the streets were wet and less crowded, and she felt a significant amount of air touching her skin. Her dark hair, which had been set firmly in a bun, had fallen over her shoulder, held out of her face by the tiara she knew she'd left at home. Just as she'd left the boots, gauntlets and breastplate she was now wearing, at home, in her drawers. Had someone created an illusion strong enough to fool her? If so, who was it, and how could she shut them down?

She continued walking down the street, narrowing her eyes as she felt people staring. It looked like Gotham, it was too good to be an illusion. The smells were too strong, and the reaction on peoples faces to her presence was too real. But the building she was in front of. There was no building like this in Gotham. Not in the Gotham she knew, at least. Was this some odd uncharted area of Man's world? Were the Gods just pissed at her? "Goddess guide me," she said quietly to herself as she continued through the street. Someone had to know what this place was.

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It was just another business day.

Bodies drifted in and out of the government building like tears in turpentine. A blue school bus parked in a handicap zone. Teachers shepherded kids with sunglasses as crowns back into the bus. Each carrying a novelty The City pamphlet with bookmarkers as tongues, most of them torn with a frown.

The glass that ripped into the bodies of the children wasn’t deliberate. Billy’s eyes hadn’t been the target as shards embedded and made them their new home. As the mayor’s wing commenced violently (pillars suddenly cracking, doors slamming open), this had little to do with calculation and everything to do with origination.

Olvikan didn’t survive in this ‘verse. That had meant all the power that was Olvikan was up for the harvesting. It was there without being overridden. It was there without sacrificing one’s self. It was there with still being Richard Wilkins. It hadn’t been easy because the means weren’t present. It had been much dirtier than he’d liked. It had been much harder to keep his rapport subsistent.

Marble floor cracked dramatically from the epicenter. A sign stating Mayor’s Office crashed into the crack and eventually fell as it steadily separated. It wasn’t the invoking summon that destroyed his desk. Instead, it was the scaled spiked-tail that lashed out from him.

Darkness overtook the building. Clouds swarmed like wasps above. Fresh blood twinkled into The City’s hungry drains like red comets. Suits climbed out of the rumble just as the sprinkler system showered on each and every one of them. It hadn’t been too bad a hit. It all seemed isolated to the mayor’s wing.

Alarm systems usually have annoying patterns of sirens that deaf ears. No alarm went off to ruin this art. Lightening created a web above the building and began to dissolve. It didn’t need an alarm to alert the citizens.

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George hit the sleep button on her alarm clock, only to notice it was covered in post-its. Four of them. George groaned heavily. Was Didi doing this? Couldn't she just knock or maybe have a daily meeting spot like Dur Waffle House like all the normal reapers? George was going to have to talk to her new(ish) boss about this.

Making a swipe for the post-its, the reaper squinted at them with sleep goobers still in her eyes. It wasn't until she noticed the addresses that George fully woke with a start.

"No way!!"

All four post-its were were addressed to this building. George quickly looked to see if Oz was listed as one of the four, but breathed a sigh of relief when he was not. Maybe he would be gone for the day and would miss this entire business. (Somehow George doubted that.) How would she explain her close vicinity to four dead bodies?

Oh well. Reapers weren't supposed to have living friends, anyway. At least that's what Rube had pounded into her head time and time again. George took her shower, brushed her teeth, put on her bravest pair of red undies to prepare her for a crappy day and waited.

And waited.

As 9:13 started to get closer and closer (and also appeared to be near the same time that the sun set), George stepped out of her apartment and into the hallway, carefully listening for the first signs of an oncoming disaster.

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Above-ground, the sun was sinking below the horizon. It was nearly time. After spending all afternoon at his computer with Barbara, Bruce finally stood up.

"I'm going to get Dick," Bruce said to Barbara, before stepping into the elevator. There was little hope that Robin -- no, Nightwing -- was in the manor, but it felt right to Bruce to go to look, himself. What had happened that sent Dick out on his own? The cold analysis in his mind suggested that he himself was probably the cause. There was much he did not know about the Dick Grayson in the City with him. But there were some things - core things - that Bruce knew were still there. He didn't hesitate to call on Dick for this outing to Arkham.

When Bruce started upstairs, however, a shadow cast on the floor from the library caught his attention. He stopped on the third step and narrowed his eyes. That was not a familiar silhouette. Silently, he stalked back down the stairs and across the room. Paused against the wall. Listened.

And then stepped into the room, blank expression plastered over his face. Under his skin, however, his muscles were coiled, ready for a fight. Who had come to the manor without his knowledge? And how much would it take to get them out again?

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There had been no reason to visit his business this afternoon - things were running well enough these days - and it was possible that he'd been taking too much of an interest in it in any event. There was still the playboy facade to maintain, and sometimes playboys laid in bed until 1 in the afternoon.

Idleness, however, was something that Bruce did not understand, and could never truly accomplish. He even thought of idleness in terms of accomplishment, as if it were some grand ideal he should strive towards. Ridiculous.

He was currently glaring at the screen in front of him, the screen that piped in articles of bad news after bad news. Harvey Dent, scarred from Jack Napier's acid attack. (True, it was different from what Bruce Wayne remembered, but enough to make him more than concerned.) Arkham Asylum and the trouble there. The spikes of crime at the docks, nearly constant now. Bruce frowned deeply.

There was a time to be alone in this type of work. And then there was a time for assistance. He picked up his phone.

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OOC: You can always trust a Michael Jackson television special to deliver chock full of cracky and RP inspirational moments.

Max was lying flopped out on her bed when Babs came in. She watched her enter, upside down and let out a very audible groan.

"Don't. Want. To. Talk. About. It," Max said very clearly. That had been the whole point of coming up to her room. She didn't want to talk about Jesse or her mood or the trial or anything else Babs could come up with. She felt confused and horrible enough as it was without talking about the damn thing.

It all bothered her. It was something like a weight sitting on her chest that just kept having things piled on top of it. First the trial, then the verdict, then she'd been fine until she and Jesse had had to go and get into this dumb argument. And to top it all off? Babs had come over to deliver the best news ever. Something was wrong at Arkham.

"Maxine, this is ridiculous. You haven't said a word since I got here.."

Shaking her head, Babs moved closer to Max, looking down at the girl. "I know what you're worried about. There's no point in trying to lock it up like this. You live in a house full of detectives... I don't doubt that we all know what you're worried about."

"So can I worry alone please? 'Sides, that's not all of it."

"Want to share the rest?."

"Babs."

"Maxine." Babs' voice was sterner now. "I thought we'd gotten over this? The whole sneaking around and hiding everything phase?"

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After returning from the corner grocery (Matt had gotten lucky this week - the City had planted a grocery down on the corner near his apartment.), Matt did his normal routine of checking for phone messages. His voice mail at the office also forwarded to his apartment telephone. There was a blinking red light on the front of the telephone, but, rather than look for the flash, Matt always listened for the click of the light going on and off.

A message was indeed waiting for him when he got back from the grocer's. Propping his cane up against the wall, bag of vegetables in the other hand, he pressed the button with his free hand before carrying the bag into the kitchen.

"You have TWO new messages."

"Hey, it's Karen. I can't find that case you said you left for me to type up. Give me a call when you get back." Matt shook his head when he heard the first message. Sounded like Karen just wanted someone to chat with on the phone.

""Mr. Murdock? This is Barbara Gordon, from the library. I've just finished watching the news, don't know if you've heard it. It's happened. Violent option number two. I have no doubt that every doctor inside that asylum is dead. …I just thought that you'd like to know."

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The small spots of blood were nearly impossible to see against the dark fabric of her Salem inspired coat. She'd been tricked. Although Willow had succeeded in ripping the skin from her still living victim's flesh, insuring an unimaginably painful death, the victory was sullied.

Warren had won even in his death.

The scream that followed would have made the ears of surrounding bystanders bleed if there had been any. It was a furies' cry and Willow only lacked talons and snakes for hair. The tantrum that followed made the ground quiver in unease while the air became frigid and sharp.

Wherever she'd been sent, it was claustrophobic. If she wasn't released soon...
Tags: stephen strange, willow rosenberg, baron mordo

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