suchaprince: Batman and Robin (Black Dawn)
[personal profile] suchaprince
Apparently, I've been here before. [Can you hear the joy in his voice? No? Oops.] Before you ask, no, I don't remember it. In fact, I'd suggest that you forget anything "I" said to you last time, because whoever was here claiming to be me was likely an imposter. If you had business with him, I suppose you may bring it up with me, but I can't guarantee that I'll take responsibility for my imposter's actions.

[Ah yes that is clearly the most mature way to handle all of this, good job, Damian.]

Information regarding this imposter would be appreciated, however. You'll be rewarded for your cooperation. [...] Eventually.
xuffasch: (вaтмan and roвιn ιι) ↪ ραтяιcк gℓεαsση (pic#5841195)
[personal profile] xuffasch
( The first video is from DAMIAN WAYNE's communicator, sent at about 3 am this morning. He's sitting on the couch in his refurbished firehouse home, his large black dog stretched out across his lap. He's wearing wearing the closest he ever comes to pajamas--loose black pants and a shirt that would be equally suited for late-night training--and there are dark circles under his eyes. It's apparent that he's just been woken up by something. )

You know, we all waste a lot of time wondering about what the natives here think of us. Whether the heroes have done enough good to weigh out the villains. But no matter what, they always fear us, don't they?

Which is stupid. The only thing they should be scared of is our incompetence. But even if there was an uptick in "popular opinion" ( the quotes are audible, there ) underneath it they're really scared of us.

Imagine, having nightmares of imPorts coming to get you. Pathetic.

( He snorts, derisively. But there's an echo, there. Nightmares... He grows impatient and cuts off the feed. )

---

( Three hours later, in the early morning light, ROBIN makes a post from his own communicator. He's on the docks--or, more correctly, above them, hanging out on a rooftop and watching the sunrise. His smile is sharp under his masked eyes. )

I think I'm insulted that the Porter didn't take all of us to that new world. It would've been nice to have a challenge, for once.

( It seems accidental, his arm drops a bit to show the gang of thugs strung up by their ankles, hanging semi-conscious from a light-pole. A moment later, the camera shifts back to him. )

I want a challenge. Something worthwhile. What do you want?

► 038.

Dec. 6th, 2012 11:58 pm
culver: snapples_apples @ lj (all i ask of you)
[personal profile] culver
[See Nill. See Nill and Damian. See Nill and Damian sitting at a picnic table somewhere in Central Park. They’re bundled up for the winter, and Damian has what appears to be a map spread out before them. He’s pointing things out, muttering and then looking up every so often to glance at Nill.]

Are you getting this?

[And as often as he is glancing up, she is nodding, actually paying great attention to the map and everything he’s mumbling. She has one hand on his arm, and is presumably responding to what he’s saying. Except since, you know, nobody but Damian can hear it, the scene probably looks mildly hilarious to anyone else.

After a particularly elaborate series of gestures, Damian scrunches his face and then throws up his hands in frustration.]


Tt. This isn’t working. I was right—we’re going to need a live demonstration.

[Nill rolls her eyes in response, though she can’t hide her smile. The eye-roll is just for show. But she nods in agreement anyway.

Damian leans over his communicator—since Nill’s is the one currently on—and begins to type rapidly. After a moment he holds it up to Nill for her approval.

She inspects what he’s typed, and reaches out to poke out a few fixes. But then he gets the Nill Nod of Approval and she leans back, looking confident.]


You are hereby challenged invited to participate in a war mock war, this coming Friday. The games shall last until there is a winner. (Or until we decide to stop.) The weapons will be anything you care to bring snow. Like snowballs.

The purpose of this is to prepare should the City ever fall under siege again. (We hope that does not happen.) It will probably happen soon.

We shall meet at the central court of the park, at dawn ten am. Further rules will follow this post. (But it is really just for fun.)

Be prepared.
xuffasch: (вαтgιяℓ)  ↪ ℓεε gαявεтт (pic#3674469)
[personal profile] xuffasch
( Damian doesn’t post immediately after returning to the City. That’s clear enough, because he when he does eventually make this post it’s from his Damian communicator, and he’s not in his Robin costume. He’s in a coat and sweater-vest, sitting on a park bench under a leafless tree. His hair is slicked back and neat, his expression blank and his blue eyes rather cold. )

I’ve been told since I first arrived here that death wasn’t death, precisely. I’ve seen it happen, when people lose their lives and then come back, just as before. It doesn’t matter what the cause, the robot toys with us in that just as she does with everything else.

It doesn’t count, if it’s not permanent. The only reason we even care about death is because there’s no undoing it. So if there is, it’s not the same thing.

It hardly matters at all.

( encrypted | NIGHTWING )

You have exactly thirty seconds to explain why you’re going by that name. I know you think you’re funny, but you’re not. This is ridiculous.
xuffasch: (вaтмan and roвιn) ↪ ғяαηк qυιтεℓү (pic#3673682)
[personal profile] xuffasch
( encrypted | individually to: BATWOMAN, CATWOMAN, BATGIRL, BATMAN II, BATWOMAN II, MISFIT, HUNTRESS, & RED HOOD )

Batman was ported out of the City ten days ago. I assume by now his protocols have been activated, but I'm announcing it for the benefit of the stupid amongst us. I don't care what you do with this information, but know that as long as you are affiliated with us, with the symbol, anything you do to disgrace it will be punished. Even if he's not here.

Except for you, Red Hood. I really don't give a damn what you do.

( / encryption )

( the public part of the message comes from damian's communicator, not robin's, and several hours later. there's a lot of scuffling in the background, and the distinct sound of power tools! someone is building in the garage, though he has the sense to turn off the electric screwdriver when he starts speaking. )

Many of us seem to cling to the lie they fed us when we arrived here. That we are "heroes," and being needed makes our abduction, while still unpleasant, somehow necessary. But given how things have been going, you really can't even cling to that last shred of hope, can you?

Why even bother trying to save people who don't want you?
xuffasch: (dc нalloween ѕpecιal)  ↪ ∂υsтιη ηgυүεη (pic#3674607)
[personal profile] xuffasch
( robin is sitting on the ledge of a building, one that overlooks the met. his legs are dangling off the side of the roof, and his cape blows back lightly in the wind. he looks a little tired, behind the mask, and his cheeks are puffed out in irritation. )

Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.

As if we needed more proof that Lachesis is out of her artificial mind.

( robin throws his weight forward and then flips himself back onto his feet, still overlooking the museum. just before he throws out a jumpline and swings off, he gives a feed a long, hard look.

it's as close as he'll come to saying "i'm back." )
xuffasch: (вaтмan and roвιn ιι) ↪ ραтяιcк gℓεαsση (Default)
[personal profile] xuffasch
( queue damian, sitting at his ancient-looking and imposing blackwood desk. seriously, without that adjustable swivel chair, it’s unlikely he’d be able to see over it. the desk itself is covered with books—the collected works of shakespeare, various greek tragedies and arthurian legends, even the tale of genji. there are also more modern books, from young adult novels to children’s books, but those are pushed to the side, so they barely make the screen. damian shrugs once at the camera before he speaks. )

Apparently, there are only seven plotlines in the world. So all of this ( he gestures at the various piles ) is just the same few stories, being told over and over again with increasing dramatics and very little purpose.

And yet, people are obsessed with stories, aren’t they? It’s part of human nature. ( he says the world “human” like it’s a derogatory term. )

I, for one, prefer facts to illusions. But I suppose you should be impressed, by the people who lie so well that we keep venerating them for it, centuries later.

( another shrug, and he drums his fingers against the desk for a moment before they land on one of the books—a paperback copy of king lear. )

So—which is your favorite? Don’t pretend you don’t have one—everyone does.
xuffasch: (вaтмan and roвιn ιι) ↪ ραтяιcк gℓεαsση (Default)
[personal profile] xuffasch
I think we’ve all seen how poorly the inhabitants of the City react under pressure. At each other’s throats with suspicion and violence? How barbaric.

( there is a very deliberate pause, a derisive huff. )

But, more importantly, I have a question. I’m sure there are some aliens among us who would quake at the thought, but what would you do if you caught one? If you do away with them, is it murder? And if you don’t, are you putting yourself and others at risk?

If you can answer that, then by all means, go about your witch hunt.
xuffasch: (вaтмan and roвιn ιι) ↪ ραтяιcк gℓεαsση (Default)
[personal profile] xuffasch
( the post is made from damian's robin-communicator, and the sound cuts in and out, a vague scuffle occurring in the background. there's a man's yell, which is cut off, and then a grunt and the sound of punches being thrown and someone falling back against a wall. finally, there's a soft intake of breath, a huffy sigh. and then the voice comes in. )

It doesn't matter what the city--Gotham, Metropolis, or this place--they're all full of people who don't know how to take care of themselves and others who'd take advantage of that. Really, it's a wonder any of you survive without me.

Apparently our idiotic hostess is up to the same repetitive tricks--am I supposed to be happy I remember this place, this time? Tt.

( there's a muffled groan from a bit further away; the man robin had incapacitated earlier seems to be stirring. however, he's quickly silenced by another audible punch. )

I take it everything will be as I left it.

x ✘ text

Oct. 1st, 2011 07:58 am
xuffasch: (вaтмan and roвιn ιι) ↪ ραтяιcк gℓεαsση (Default)
[personal profile] xuffasch
( this post is sent from a pretty scrambled signal, not traceable to either of Damian’s standard communicators. )

If you are under the age of eighteen and have found yourself trapped by the hideous system that is the social norms of this City, then you may wish to take a minute away from your busy schedule of doing meaningless addition problems and reading Jane Eyre and read the following.

There is an organization in place known as Child Protective Services, otherwise known as the CPS because they believe you too moronic to remember three words, and also because referring to something by an acronym makes it more mysterious and therefore intimidating, in their opinions. Make no mistake; they do not wish to protect you, nor to provide you with anything remotely resembling a service. Their aim is to control you and indoctrinate you.

The way they do this? A combination of webs known as the public and private schooling systems. They draw you in with promises of the companionship of your peers and the ability to gain knowledge in a protected environment. This, however, is a lie. What they really wish to do is keep an eye on you, to huddle everyone who may rise up against them into several institutions that can be easily monitored, and then fill your minds with so much useless information and facts about William the Bastard’s conquest of England that you have little time to think and energy for yourself.

Eventually, after what can be as many as twenty-two to thirty years in such places, you will eventually be shuffled to an occupation somewhere in which you can be equally supervised, controlled, and harvested for slave labor. Forever.

How to avoid such a bleak and moronic fate? I’m glad you have asked. + )
xuffasch: (вaтмan and roвιn ιι) ↪ ραтяιcк gℓεαsση (Default)
[personal profile] xuffasch
( encrypted | [livejournal.com profile] brevipennate )

Hey. Do you have a minute?
xuffasch: (вaтмan and roвιn ιι) ↪ ραтяιcк gℓεαsση (Default)
[personal profile] xuffasch
( guess who’s dad left? and guess who is probably never going to get closure on the whole parental issues thing? yup—this kid. )

You are given an option. You can summon one person to the City to be here with you, and prevent one person from coming here forever. Who do you pick for each, and why?

If you are concerned about your identities or privacy or something else tiresome, you need only describe and not identify the individuals.


( and, about fifteen minutes later: )

It has come to my attention that Batwoman is in the City. If you insist on wearing that symbol, I would speak with you.
xuffasch: (вaтмan and roвιn ιι) ↪ ραтяιcк gℓεαsση (Default)
[personal profile] xuffasch
( See Damian. See Damian in the doorway of his and Dick’s apartment. See Damian in the doorway of his and Dick’s suspiciously clean apartment. And not just clean, empty—everything is gone, and Damian’s holding a box holding his meager possessions. Someone’s moving out. )

Tt. In case any of you were planning on pestering us at this place anytime soon, don’t. We’re leaving. Grayson found us a new place, and it is mildly more acceptable than this one.

So don’t bother us.
( his expression is suddenly fierce. )

Damian, where did you put the- hey, you didn’t tell me it was face time.

( There’s a disembodied hand to match the new voice. A disembodied hand making an affectionate – verging on tousley - grab for Damian’s hair. Damian just edges away and grimaces. )

Imagine that. Apologies in advance for the mess, but uh- ( the comm’s being lifted up – and presumably dragged right out Damian’s hands – to provide a nice panning shot of the empty room. Hello, boxes. )

We’re hot footing it out of this dump. Which means we’re gonna need a couple of days to get our… four a half whole boxes of crap settled in the new place. But say, Friday-ish we’re gonna want to make up for lost time and celebrate, so consider this an open invitation to grab a dish and come on over. Or if you can’t cook, that’s fine, we’ll have something. Maybe Italian.

I’m not making anything--

( the comm shifts a little again to show Damian. He rolls his eyes in an exaggerated manner and then just cuts the feed. )


( filtered from known villains, red is Damian and blue is Dick, etc. etc. )

vi ✘ text

Jul. 9th, 2011 04:47 pm
xuffasch: (вaтмan and roвιn ιι) ↪ ραтяιcк gℓεαsση (Default)
[personal profile] xuffasch
Do you know what is entirely more complicated than it should be?

Travel by air.

It is overly complicated, messy, and full of useless bureaucratization.

There are roughly 61,000 people in the airspace over this country at any given moment.

Millions and millions of dollars are poured into the business of airline cuisine, and yet most airlines don’t offer any refreshments on domestic flights.

The average person has to wait nearly half an hour in security lines before even boarding their flight.

And yet none of this is as insulting or demeaning as the concept of “unaccompanied minors.”

Who are they to say who is fit to travel by themselves or not? There are hoardes of people over the age of fourteen who should not be trusted in the air on their own. And yet they can buy airplane tickets without having a guardian sign off on this.

It’s really a wonder that anyone choses to go through legal channels.

I need a private jet.
xuffasch: (вaтмan and roвιn ιι) ↪ ραтяιcк gℓεαsση (Default)
[personal profile] xuffasch
( What is it with this kid and trying to do a million things at once? Today, he’s turning on the video feed while also trying to hold onto a pretty large canvas—it’s a painting of the seaside, and while he didn’t paint it himself, it’s pretty skillfully done. After a moment of fumbling with it and the communicator, he lets it drop to the floor with a clatter as he his temper breaks and he slams a fist into the nearby wall. The feed crackles out for a moment, and when it returns it is only Robin’s voice. )

Where is she—I’m looking for a girl. Mid-teens, on the small side, blonde. She has wings, and she doesn’t speak. If anyone’s done anything to her I will—

( He cuts himself off, and lets out an impatient tut. )

Just…let me know if you’ve heard from her. Immediately.

( The feed cuts out to the sound of his muttering, something about “just here a few days ago,” and “stupid not to check sooner.” )

( ooc | he’s looking for nill, who will unfortunately not be found for various plot reasons. also this is forward-dated to the late tonight, and encrypted against known villains. )

[Video]

Jun. 7th, 2011 12:53 am
[identity profile] tinytechhead.livejournal.com
[The feed opens on Damian and Pym, sitting side by side in what looks to be a small car. The scenery is whizzing by behind them pretty fast, but it’s green enough that it becomes evident that they’re in the park. Pym’s at the wheel, but Damian’s the one holding the communicator, looking incredibly pleased with himself.]

See, I told you it would work.

Of course it works! We built it and we’re the best go-kart builders ever! There’s no way Tony would have let me drive something like this back home.

Here, let me show you how it’s done.

[Damian tries to grab the wheel, which doesn’t go incredibly well considering the way they’re situated.]

Hey! Not yet, it’s still my turn! [Pym attempts to push Damian’s hands away, the kart veering noticeably.

They tussle over it for a bit, before one of them yanks it too far to the side. The feed goes fuzzy for a moment, but there is a resounding crash and then the sound of running water.

When the video comes back, the two boys are sitting in a fountain in central park, their go-kart on its side next to it. The impact was strong enough to knock the cherub statue onto one side.]

Oh great, you probably broke it! [Pym scrambles over to the kart and looks it over.] See, look?! It’s busted now! You know what that means? [He pauses, then grins widely.] We’ll just have to make it even better! Let’s put a rocket on the back so it goes way super fast!

[Pym then finally notices the state of the statue.]

... Uh. Whoops? You don’t think that was important, do you?
xuffasch: (вaтмan and roвιn ιι) ↪ ραтяιcк gℓεαsση (Default)
[personal profile] xuffasch
( As the feed begins, a rather alarmed and frightened-looking Damian. He’s fumbling with the communicator a bit, and keeps looking back over his shoulder. )

Ah, hello? I’m sorry to bother everyone, but I’m having a bit of an emergency, and it would be great if—

There you are, you little—!

( The words are cut short as a second Robin drops down from a nearby tree, knocking the first down. The communicator rolls away in the scuffle, but the camera is still facing the two boys as they tussle. The second Robin—the scowling one—manages to pin the other, who looks increasingly frightened. )

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, whatever I did, I’m sorry! Please don’t hurt me!

Stop it! Stop saying things like that in my voice! It’s disgusting.

( Though the first, more timid Damian isn’t fighting back much, he is surprisingly agile and manages to leap away just as the other is grabbing a rope to bind him. He continues running and snatches up the communicator. )

Is anyone there? Batman, I could really use some help here! …Mama? Anyone…?

Get back here! Get back in your stupid box and shut up!

No! I’m nice, not stupid.

( Here there is another—rather vicious—tussle, with the timid Damian letting out a few yelps until finally the feed statics out.

So, Damian found an Ethicator and may have played with the good toggle a bit too much. Any responses will be delayed icly for random intervals—ten minutes, half an hour, etc. You may specify if you’d like to speak to good!Damian or regular!Damian or both as they fight over the communicator. Both are in Robin costume for the purposes of this post. And in case it wasn’t obvious, normal type is good!Damian and italics are regular!Damian. )
xuffasch: (вaтмan and roвιn ιι) ↪ ραтяιcк gℓεαsση (Default)
[personal profile] xuffasch
If there's anything this all proved, it's all that all of you were infinitely more annoying when you were young than you claim I am. Also more idiotic. So that argument about age and what's appropriate is officially invalid.

( His voice pauses for a moment, and he lets out a huff before speaking again. )

There is likely a shortage of ice cream in the city at the moment. Though you'd think the demand for it would have subsided. There's still enough coffee. So it's not a total loss.

( Another sigh, and the feed goes private. )

( encrypted | [livejournal.com profile] knights_wing )

You're out of food. Good luck with that.

( encrypted | [livejournal.com profile] brevipennate )

I might be...staying at the church for a few days.
xuffasch: (вaтмan and roвιn ιι) ↪ ραтяιcк gℓεαsση (Default)
[personal profile] xuffasch
( The feed opens very briefly on Robin’s face as he fumbles with the communicator; from the looks of him, he’s been having more than one skirmish with the rats and pigeons. More importantly, however, is the reason he’s having trouble maneuvering—his hands are full of small, black kitten; he’s attempting to hold on to it while trying to text. Finally, he manages it, and the feed cuts off, replaced by a single message. )

What do cats eat.
xuffasch: (вaтмan and roвιn ιι) ↪ ραтяιcк gℓεαsση (Default)
[personal profile] xuffasch
( Initially, Damian wasn’t planning on using this thing at all—which is why he’s been skulking around the city for about a day and a half, not using it. However, there’s only so much one can learn that way, and he’s more curious than he lets on. So now we have Robin scowling at the network. )

You know, if I was going to grab a bunch of people away from the important things they were doing, I’d find something better to leave them with than a communication device. “Here, go talk to people who have no way out of this either and most probably no good suggestions.”

Yeah. Thanks a lot.

Tch. If anyone has anything useful to say that isn’t glaringly obvious, I suppose you should share it.
[identity profile] lilcreep.livejournal.com
[The feed shows an old familiar masked face peering into the camera, looking grumpy. Grumpier than usual, that is.]

Tt. My stuff better be left untouched.
[identity profile] lilcreep.livejournal.com
Looks like I missed all the fun. [He means the opportunity to kick your ass, Tim. But this could be taken any way.]


[PRIVATE TO NILL]
Nill, where are you?
[identity profile] lilcreep.livejournal.com
[Hello City, someone sounds very annoyed. Like usual. Bet you missed this voice.]

Horrible timing as always, you retarded machine. [Because insulting the Porter is the best way to go about things, obviously.]

Right, so I'm back.

What have you people been whining about this time?
[identity profile] lilcreep.livejournal.com
[Here's another person who sounds really angry and slightly pained, but mostly angry. You'd be too if your precious motorcycle crashed.]

Will you people stop whining and start doing something useful. Like how about figuring out what the hell just happened already.

Fuck.
[identity profile] lilcreep.livejournal.com
Beware Samuel Sullivan and his carnival.

Something big is going to happen soon that involves this entire city. Be ready.


((Pretend this is late 26th, gd timezones.))
[identity profile] lilcreep.livejournal.com
I'm leaving the City for a while.

[A beat.]

Drake, I need your database.
[identity profile] lilcreep.livejournal.com
[A certain Batbrat just woke up and he sounds groggy but most of all, really pissed off.]

Where'd the psychotic clown go?
[identity profile] lilcreep.livejournal.com
[The video shows Damian on the top of a random rooftop. He's bleeding, has duct tape on his mouth and is not moving.

Joker!Dick speaks up from off-screen, his voice higher-pitched than usual, obviously doing a bad imitation of Damian's voice.]


Ooooops, looks like I'm dead.

[The video keeps rolling...]
[identity profile] lilcreep.livejournal.com
[Backdated to early Tuesday morning after this. Also, someone is using their leet voice imitation skills to impersonate daddy Bats for this post.]

Joker.

This isn't over.
[identity profile] lilcreep.livejournal.com
[The video feed turns on to show Robin, or more like a Robin, who doesn't look too well but more pissed off than anything else.] This isn't Gotham, I don't know how I was brought here but I demand an explanation. Now. I don't have time for this, I've got a monster to find back home.

And Batman, where the hell are you?

[A beat.]

While we're at it, someone explain to me who this imposter is. [He moves the communicator to show he's perched on someone. That someone being the other Robin in town who's currently unconscious and bound.]

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