Gotham Pride (IC)

[AvatarVecna]

March 28th, 2013

Click.

A hefty balding man perched before a large soundboard.

"--ayne Enterprises new corporate stra--"

Click.

A woman draped in ragged robes descends in front of a house, as the color is leeched from everything around her, accompanied by dark musical cues.

"Who's been mess--"

Click.

A lithe figure stands at the mayor's podium, flanked by well-armed, well-armored mercenaries. Fire flickers in the windows of City Hall, but is paid no mind. The camera is laser-focused on her as she speaks to the world.

"--and so things come full circle. If the United States is so willing to cede their duty to a lone unaccountable vigilante, then it is only just that he be tested. We shall take this city for our own, as he has done, and we will see if he can drive us out. Interference, foreign or domestic, will be met with swift retribution striking..."



Nobody is entirely sure where they came from. Seemingly overnight, an army was amassed within Gotham city - tanks rolling here and there, squads patrolling downtown, helicopters and drones watching the skies. Blimps and ships carried them in by the hundreds, even the thousands, and their base of operations as of yet remained unclear. They call themselves the Watchmen, lead by Copperhead of all people. It's been years since the assassin had come to Gotham and been defeated, but now she was...different. She looked different, talked different. She worked with others, she lead instead of following the money. She had grown harder, visibly.

The threats her Watchmen made were not idle, it seemed: a few attempts had been made by state police and the National Guard to oust her forces from Gotham, but not only were they rebuffed fairly easily, but not even a day afterwards, there were small-scale terror attacks on NG headquarters across the country, carried out by individuals with no seeming connection to Copperhead or Gotham or any terrorist or military organizations at all. With no signs as to the vector by which her next move could be made, all levels of government have taken a wait-and-see approach for the time being, gathering information before making another push. Even worse (well, worse for this particular reason), the Bat hasn't been seen in a couple weeks, nor any of his little helpers. The timing is too convenient to be an accident, and even if it is, the thought of them rolling Gotham unopposed rankles.

For now, her forces are recovering from that attack, and still working to gaina proper grip on Gotham. If there is action to be taken, it will have to come from within the city...and it's best to get the ball rolling now, instead of after they've had time to hunker down. You've kept an ear to the ground while contemplating what move to make, and it turns out there's some kind of gathering at the Monarch Theatre tonight - various crime lords and supervillains meeting up to discuss this new threat, under a temporary truce. You're not sure who all will even be in attendance, but you don't fancy your chances against this army on your own...and if some of your competitors shoulder some of the consequences instead of you, it'll be a leg up once everything's back to normal.

[Inspector Valin]

"Bat's to the left of me, Joker's to the right, here I am
Stuck in the middle with you..."

A purple-trimmed silhouette sings to herself as she slinks up the steps of the now lit Monarch Theater. Upstart pauses for just a second at the door, running a hand across her belt to check her equipment is in good order. She doesn't look down, familiar with each pouch by weight and order, just as she'd been taught. Finally, with a satisfied smile the young villain pulls up her hood and steps through into the midst of the festivities, such as they are.

She saunters into the foyer with a grin that soon fades into a frown. No sign of any other arrivals yet. Irritating - clearly this little get together is not going to be highly attended. Or perhaps I'm just that ahead of the curve Chuckling to herself, Upstart begins to progress deeper into the building, walking slowly up the stairs towards the projectionist booth. If she has the time, why not take a brief tour? Tonight might end up being a waste if no one shows, or those assembled aren't up to the task of taking down Copperhead and the Watchmen but it... would be refreshing to socialize with 'her own'. It always is, somehow. The thought is enough to keep her here for the moment.

[dreamking]

Martin Cobblepot was not pleased.

The crime lord sighed as he gripped his umbrella, looking out the window of his limosine. He'd been watching for this moment since before he had taken control of his Father's empire. The Bat was out of town. He had known that for weeks. His informants on the street, in Blackgate and even the GCPD had all confirmed that there had been zero Batman sightings for almost a month. It should have been like Christmas for Mac. Taking over the Cobblepot Criminal Empire had been shaky, and he had planned to use this time to strike out against the other crime gangs in Gotham. He could have been running this town completely by the time the Bat reared his pointy-eared head again.

And then it all went up in smoke. Because of Copperhead, of all people.

The young Cobblepot seethed as the limo pulled around the corner, stopping in front of the Monarch theater. That's what had bothered him the most. Copperhead was, as Dad always loved to say, 'small fish'. No ambition beyond the money she could earn by putting a knife in someone's back, suddenly the woman was bringing her own army in and declaring Gotham her own personal kingdom. It was a huge surprise, and Cobblepot didn't like surprises.

He stepped out of his limo as his driver opened the door for him, followed by two women in porcelain masks and geisha-style clothing: the Kabuki Twins. They were followed by his standard security: the standard set of loyal, dumb crooks who happened to be built like brick houses. Cobblepot himself removed his red-lensed sunglasses as he walked up the stairs into the Monarch. He stopped at the box office, letting his umbrella rest on his shoulder as he looked at an old poster for The Mark of Zorro hanging up on the wall.

"Girls?" Martin said to the Twins, not looking away from the poster. "Do me a favor and find yourselves a nice shadowy place to watch things from. I'd rather have you hidden in case things get.....dicey."

Both women, moving in an eerie harmony, gave Martin a bow before vanishing into the darkness. He then addressed his four thugs, removing his black dress coat as he spoke. "You know the drill gentlemen. Two of you on the door and two of you with me." He says, handing his coat to one of the men, who takes it without question. With a small smile, Mac looked over across the lobby and at the doorway to the actual theater.

"Well then,I suppose we should find our seats before the show starts."

[Genth]

The second car to pull up is smaller than the eager-to-show-off Cobblepot's, but just as elegant and expensive, the inside concealed from view by what seems at first glance to be black smoke. It pulls up just as Martin is entering the building, and its occupant lets out a small chuckle at the bodyguards he brings with him. "A nice display, Master Cobblepot, but we shall see if it matches the others..." Theo Black muses to himself as he gets out of the car. The man himself seems cloaked in shadows, black jacket, black trousers, black shirt, the darkness itself seeming to cling to him and even obscuring his features, though as soon as he enters the lobby he dismisses the illusion. A man who seems to be in his late fifties stands where the shadows were, still dressed in a black greatcoat and jacket, though his shirt is of a eggshell blue and his tie a navy, speckled with gold dots. He walks with a cane, though it would appear to be more an affectation than any serious need, though the weight and swing of it to a trained observer would show that it is primarily metal.

"Master Martin, a pleasure to see you here!" he calls out to Cobblepot, tipping his head politely to the gangster and approaches, offering a hand. "Theodore Black, you facillitated a transaction for me a month ago, a rather pretty dagger for a rather wealthy young woman." he says by way of re-introduction. Martin would remember him, of course, the trade in interesting artefacts was hardly the biggest trade within Gotham, but it was still a lucrative one.

[CardTrick]

Misting his way into and then down through the ventilation system of the Monarch Theater, Johnny suddenly realized he doesn't actually know the layout of the building, but he is thankfully undeterred in his progress once he hears voices coming from what he assumes is the lobby below.

Johnny had been more than a little bit surprised when some random thug, working for God only knows who, had approached him about this meeting, especially since he was masquerading as some dead old lady at the time. How exactly had the thug's boss tracked him down? And why? In earnest, Johnny didn't really care who claimed to run Gotham, and his universal absolutely-zero-****s-given stance was fairly well established in the city. But, on the other hand, these Watchmen jerks were making things in Gotham dreary... well drearier. Plus all their totalitarian antics had mucked things up enough that the local Midnight Cookies delivery service had basically shut down. Johnny hadn't been able to get his beloved Snickers-Topped Oreo Brownies in weeks... WEEKS. And THAT, well THAT just could not stand. So, it was probably at least worth seeing if anyone had any ideas about getting rid of the a-holes.

Reconstituting in a more solid form behind the concession counter, Johnny rummages through the area and fires up the popcorn popper, while getting himself a fountain drink as he waited for enough of it to finish to fill a bucket. After all, in his experience with the rank and file of the Gotham's baddies, the type of person who called these kinds of meetings together also tended to be the same type that just loved making super long, super BORING monologues. No way he was sitting through one of those without extra butter and a cherry slushy.

[BananaPhone]

https://pasteall.org/media/1/0/10d65dd84a89afc382b9bd93f281d733.jpg Shogun
_______________________


Things had been going well. At least initially.

The underworld was being mapped. The sedimentary layers of industrialists, politicians and bankers had also been explored. The orbiting socialites catalogued. The wild card of "super-villains" and the winged vigilante's that sought to stop them, had all been documented to varying degrees. The public reaction to criminal spectacle and political scandal had been measured and analysed for future predictive uses. The response time, competence (or lack there-of) of both public and private law enforcement had been tested and recorded.

The foundations were solid. The plan was embryonic, but taking form.

And then Copperhead came along and slammed her flag down upon Gotham and closed it off from the outside world. Troops and tanks roamed the street. Citizens were shut inside their homes with naught but subsistence-level food and the burning resentment of blatant tyranny to warm themselves against the frozen teeth of the cold nights. Powerful men, men Shogun had once sought t ensnare in a web of bribery, corruption and coercion, had all been arrested or shot, thus casting aside that branch of her grand design. The other avenue had fared no better, as criminals were rounded up and subjected to even harsher fates. Every segment of city society was compressed beneath a menace that had exploded onto the scene. Even the US military appeared helpless against the combination of Copperheads guns and the countless citizen-hostages she kept hunkered within their homes.

What a waste. What a blatant disgrace.

Shogun did not mind that Copperhead was naughty. But she hated that she was sloppy.

Having heard about the gathering through the grapvine of what was left of Gothams underworld, Shogun had decided to appear in person. It would mark her debut, so to speak, as the only interactions with the criminals of Gotham she had thus far had were all quite violent in nature. But tonight was the time for the spoken word, not the slashing sword.

Shogun sailed across Gothams skyline as a silent shadow, her form carried swiftly upon the frugal membranes of her in-built wingsuit. The goggles on her face protected her eyes from what would have been the rapid speed through the towers of the old city, as her body tilted this way an that to direct her towards the Monarch Theatre. A theatre of unknown historical significance.

Landing silently on the roof and sweeping for look-outs, Shogun slipped into the ventilation systems. A master of stealth, her metahuman body crept through the ducts and vents before emerging into the ornately decorated interior where she seemingly melted into the shadows. No one had seen her enter. No one knew she was there. But Shogun was watching.

[NineOfSpades]

Roulette
HP 1
Reroll: 4
Boss: 4

Much as her reputation said otherwise, Veronica didn't know everything that happened in Gotham, or even everything worth knowing. That had always been a fabrication, a useful fiction. By her own estimations, Veronica likely only had direct access to 15% of the non-public information that took place in the city. Everything beyond that was speculation, drawn from what she knew. And more often than not, Veronica was accurate in her assessments. Because the real secret was that 15% was more than enough. Under the chaos, the animal hunger, the traffic, and the noise of the city, Gotham had a unique balance to it. Every day would-be crime lords rose and fell. The individual players didn't matter, the big picture was static. Sometimes there would be a jolt, a sudden tectonic shift. But those were temporary, and never changed the underlying nature. Gotham was Gotham, always and forever. Throw a pair of dice, and they'll roll a 7 more often than any other number. Sometimes you get a 2, sometimes you get a 12. The individual moments were chaotic, but the patterns were predictable. Constant. Same with Gotham. Drop a gangbanger on 4th and Cherry, you might not know exactly how his night will play out, but more times than not he'll be dead or in police custody by morning. It was that balance on which she had built everything on top of, the bedrock.

An outside perspective looking at the Copperhead situation would say that it put a wrench into her estimations. But Veronica saw through that. Numbers didn't tell a lie. Maybe it would take a month, maybe more, but an invading private military had no chance to hold the city for long. Maybe there would be a military response, maybe a costumed one. The question wasn't if this would last, but when they would fail.

And that question? That was one Veronica was eager to see answered.

The meeting at the old theater was a calculation. Attendance might as well have been mandatory, if only because failing to show interest was tantamount to suicide. The House wasn't a cheap operation, and with the city at a near standstill, she was hemorrhaging money. Anyone who cared to pay attention would have been able to see that. So taking no action was a sign of weakness. The alternative was cheap. Show up for the evening, see who the players are, hear things out. If it goes well, fine. If not, there were 3 exit strategies in place.

Veronica's car pulled up to the street corner half a block from the theater. The car didn't have a driver, she'd opted for the automated system this evening. One less pair of eyes. Paranoia wasn't a trait she wanted to encourage, but with the turbulence of late, she also didn't want to risk a leak when it wasn't needed.

Stepping out, she closed the door behind her and set the car to circle the neighborhood. Close enough to be easy to call back, far enough to obfuscate her exact location. Strolling down the concrete blocks of the sidewalk, Roulette saw two of Cobblepots regulars outside. "Evening Jerry, Phil." she gave them a nod, proceeding inside.

As expected, she wasn't the first. A scan of the room showed an eclectic gathering of faces. Cobblepot as expected, and Black; welcome faces, both. She suspected that meant the twins were lurking somewhere in the building as well. Ivy's Apple was behind the snack counter, and the newest player at the table. Hardly a full house, admittedly, but she'd seen worse. The clown didn't appear to be in attendance, thank god for that.

Though her dress didn't appear to have any pockets, indeed it would be hard to imagine Veronica could hide much of anything on her person, as she stepped into the room, she produced her tinted glasses and placed them across her face. Rule 1 for dealing, keep your eyes covered. Makes it that much easier to lie. Roulette was in the building.

She approached the pair of gentlemen first "Good Evening, Martin, Theodore. A pleasure, as always." Two more of Cobblepots muscle were lurking close by. Near enough to do violence, far enough to avoid being in the way. "Anthony, Gregor, looking good.". Being kind to the help wasn't a tactic, which in turn made it into a very effective tactic, because everyone assumes that when you are courteous with other people's bruisers, that you are trying to pull something. She returned her attention to Cobblepot "Is Dominique not going to be joining us this evening?" Referring to another member of his crew "His broken leg must be healed by now".

[dreamking]

"Master Martin, a pleasure to see you here!" he calls out to Cobblepot, tipping his head politely to the gangster and approaches, offering a hand. "Theodore Black, you facillitated a transaction for me a month ago, a rather pretty dagger for a rather wealthy young woman." he says by way of re-introduction. Martin would remember him, of course, the trade in interesting artefacts was hardly the biggest trade within Gotham, but it was still a lucrative one.

"Yes, I recall. An Egyptian piece, Nineteenth Dynasty if I remember correctly." Martin said with a nod, "Quite an interesting night, actually. Gregor over there," He nods over at the door where he posted his guards, "Says that three of my men were killed by some kid and his housecat."




She approached the pair of gentlemen first "Good Evening, Martin, Theodore. A pleasure, as always." Two more of Cobblepots muscle were lurking close by. Near enough to do violence, far enough to avoid being in the way. "Anthony, Gregor, looking good.". Being kind to the help wasn't a tactic, which in turn made it into a very effective tactic, because everyone assumes that when you are courteous with other people's bruisers, that you are trying to pull something. She returned her attention to Cobblepot "Is Dominique not going to be joining us this evening?" Referring to another member of his crew "His broken leg must be healed by now".

"I gave him some extra time off," Martin replies, "The man broke his leg trying to cover my escape from the Bat and still came into work the next day. That's loyalty you need to reward." He walks over to the concession stand, reaching behind the counter and taking a candy bar.

[Genth]

Theodore chuckles at Cobblepot's anecdote. "Likely true, that particular brat is far too spoiled by his mother. Old Money. Very very old money." he says, tipping his head to Roulette as she appears. "Madame Roulette, likewise. I am glad you are here, both of you, to be honest. Part of me was worried that this meeting would be... far lower in tone." He gives a rather supercillious glance over their surroundings. "This situation is rather intolerable. Our toxic interloper is deeply unpleasent." A sigh, and the man taps his chin with the head of his walking stick. "Central City trash. She's almost as bad as those ridiculous Rogues of the Flash."

[CardTrick]

Taking a long sip of his cherry slushy as he listens to the crime boss talk shop, Appleseed reflexively chimes in, "Pretty sure the rogues in places like Central City and Metropolis consider our lot the real losers. Sure they fail all the time, but they're constantly up against a jackass moving at the speed of bull-crap or some dude who can pimp-slap a skyscraper with just his pinky. What's our excuse?", and then gestures towards the drink fountain, in case any of them wanted something.

[dreamking]

Taking a long sip of his cherry slushy as he listens to the crime boss talk shop, Appleseed reflexively chimes in, "Pretty sure the rogues in places like Central City and Metropolis consider our lot the real losers. Sure they fail all the time, but they're constantly up against a jackass moving at the speed of bull-crap or some dude who can pimp-slap a skyscraper with just his pinky. What's our excuse?", and then gestures towards the drink fountain, in case any of them wanted something.

Mac barks a short laugh that sounds more like a penguin squak than he cared to admit. "I'm sorry, the rogues in Metropolis think we are losers??" He turns to face Appleseed, leaning on the counter, "What rogues exactly are you referring to? The ones who are on Lex Luthor's payroll, or the ones who are too stupid to act when the Boy Scout and Baldy are in the middle of one of their pissing contests the news broadcasts across the nation?" He snaps his fingers, and his two bodyguards join Appleseed behind the counter, taking over concession duties for this criminal summit. "Gotham criminals are the real losers, bah!! I've killed better criminals than those morons Superman deals with!" With that, he takes the popcorn his bodyguard had prepared for him, tossing a kernel into his mouth.

[Genth]

"Add to that the fact that about 40% of lets say... specialist weaponry, including about three quarters of all kryptonite comes through Gotham, we do rather well. Though I must object to your insinuation. I am not a criminal." Theo replies, a very slight smile on his features. "I am a concerned member of the Gotham community, just one who has an appreciation for the more dimly-lit areas of our society."

[CardTrick]

Finishing the very last slurp of his slushie after having waited around for any sign or word from the person who invited everyone to the theater for what feels like almost a month, Appleseed finally gives up, tosses his emptied popcorn tub and cup into the waste bin, and leaves the same way he had come in.