enigmaestro: (Deft.)
[personal profile] enigmaestro
Obviously we're a breed with many opinions on the vaguely illegal act of vigilantism. I say "vaguely illegal" because, as it stands, so many of our kind in particular are given leeway in this system -- and many of us are used to similar systems. Why? Because we see, so often, exceptional individuals changing oh so much to maintain the general status quo. You know what I refer to, surely: a man in a mask prevents a bank robbery, with minimal casualties. One clerk who otherwise would have died is merely shot in the face and vows revenge, calling himself Bankrupt or some such. Bankrupt shoots up an orphanage -- lives saved, lives stolen. Status quo maintained. So then, what's the point? What's the real thesis?

Is this country not a land of laws, rather than of merely men? Or should the exceptional lead by example, in action as well as words?

[A theatrical beat follows, and when he speaks it's not without a subtle tone of glee.]

Perhaps we should pause to consider the implication of moral relativity. I know some of you are well versed in relative morals.
enigmaestro: (Questioning.)
[personal profile] enigmaestro
[Ramrod-straight marbled buildings. Iron wrought benches. Slabs of green grass between acres of concrete. By evidence of the streets and architecture, Eddie's at the Bowling Green in Lower Manhattan. The camera swerves to the pavement, following a trail of green graffiti question marks. Occasionally the screen will move to a lamppost or a tree or a bench to catch sight of a straying spray-painted question mark lurking.

He ends the brief tour at the foot of the Charging Bull, where green questions marks litter the floor around its bronze hooves.
]

How symbolic.

[A pause, and the camera slowly zooms in on one question mark.]

Imagine my surprise, while taking a walk, to find my symbol spread around. Imagine the meaning.

[He doesn't turn the camera on himself, while he speaks.]

But do you know what this is?

The child of echo:
A sound brother to stalk (although it doesn't),
Middled by the ending of the final ending
With two mirror images playing bookends to a Roman's to go.

Do you know what this is?
enigmaestro: (Wait!)
[personal profile] enigmaestro
[The communicator abruptly turns on. Though video is reeling, the only thing visible is the thick foot of a mahogany desk fitted over a patch of green carpet. The bolting shots of gunfire bullets over the audio. Three shots, a pause, then two. All patternless, erratic and emotional.]

Sonuva bitch! [A low baritone. Salty and slurred syllables.]

Apt, wouldn't you say? [Edward's voice, wholly recognizable and haggard with emotion. Another shot, the sound of wood splintering.] Or are we talking about mother?

[Low, heavy laughter -- distinct from anything Eddie's ever chuckled, and yet the sound has a similar sneer in it. An undeniable relation, a cold link.]

Pathetic. Always aimed for the nads when you couldn't hit the face. Ain't that right, Ed?

[Eddie empties the cartridge into (what sounds like) a bookcase. Hard, thudding wood, fluttering paper exploding into bits.]

You sad, little piece of shit.

Shut up, shut up, shut up!

[A crash, a crunch. The communicator whacks into the baseboard of a wall before turning off.]

ooc || replies will be icly delayed by half an hour, when eddie realizes his communicator has betrayed him!! because of auto replay!!
enigmaestro: (Ignore.)
[personal profile] enigmaestro
It's rather lucky, if you think about it -- [He begins abruptly, without his usual preamble.] How we haven't really been placed in the most obvious dilemma that this world -- or, I suppose, any world -- could offer: the dilemma between personal survival and the survival of one's [a quick beat] loved ones.

I know what many of you would say you'd choose, noble self-sacrifice and all that. But that's the tricky thing about such a dilemma, isn't it? There's only one way to honestly know. [Another beat.] Well, that's partially misleading. There are two ways to know, but you don't want to hear it coming from me. And frankly I don't want to so easily surrender it.

[It's probably the most open he's been about his power of falsehood detection ever, to a mass address on the Network. Unprecedented.]

It doesn't matter if we can return to life or not, once you have that dark element of yourself revealed there's no going back. There's always going to be one person you can't hide from, someone you can never quite escape. [A pause, and he steers away from this heavier, exposed topic to lightly conclude:] One thing, of many things, to consider. And maybe one of the more important of those many things, as you hardly want your enemy knowing yourself better than you do. Now do you?
enigmaestro: (Interested.)
[personal profile] enigmaestro
[Edward Nygma is in the mayor’s office, sitting in the mayor’s chair. Mitchell’s usual desk tag is conspicuously missing from the view of the camera. He broadcasts this breaking news to the Network first, and so far there has not been any media coverage coming from City Hall.

Eddie leans forward towards the camera just a touch.
]

Mitchell Hundred is missing. Contact was initially attempted sixty-eight minutes ago and has been consistent ever since. He has yet to respond to any attempt of communication. I don’t need to tell you, Network, how highly unorthodox such behavior is for Mayor Hundred, and logically we are treating this as an emergency. We’ve yet to acquire substantial, palpable evidence indicating a port-out or a kidnapping, but the fact that any effort to contact him has thus failed rather suggests harrowing possibilities. We must now resort to more dramatic maneuvers.

The available details are as follows: at four-twenty this afternoon, Mitchell had suffered from a minor concussion while overseeing reconstruction in Times Square. He was briefly hospitalized and then returned to Gracie Manor shortly after his release. His last contact was made at Gracie Manor. He is now physically missing from Gracie Manor.

[Eddie inclines his head slightly, his eyes never leaving the camera view. He draws back his shoulders.]

With a heavy heart, I must now resume the responsibility of acting Mayor until our efforts to retrieve Mitchell Hundred are fulfilled.

[And then he smirks.]

Mayor Nygma, signing off.

ooc || in reference to this plot.
enigmaestro: (Tangent.)
[personal profile] enigmaestro
Hello, City. This is your Deputy Mayor speaking. [Beat.] In case you've forgotten.

Question.

A word derived from madness, beside the mind.
Deranged rearranged: an aria op.
What is it?

Answer? Paranoia. It's quite clear that the best way to infuse paranoia into a selective population is to employ those somewhat rather predictable divide and conquer tactics. The aggressive party can then pick apart any hapless group, individual by individual, spreading through a system like a cancer. It's an effective technique and of course some know this technique better than others, so you may want to ask yourself: who benefits from paranoia? Who excels in such a setting? Moreover, who have you been talking to?

It's not impossible to find these Skrulls. Why would you ever think it impossible?
[identity profile] enigmaestro.livejournal.com
[The video's on, but the communicator is sitting on a desk. There's a collection of completed and recent crossword puzzles just in view. The answers are written in black ink, with personal notes written in green. Answers in black like DEPUTY, ENIGMA, COMPULSION, FAILURE and SABOTAGE litter each puzzle. His own green notes are indecipherable, written in personal script. His voice is heard, although he has yet to enter the camera shot.]

I don't believe in coincidence, not of a certain improbable magnitude anyway. I suppose I invest quite a lot in sentient agency, that indeed man is responsible for his own destiny. [A beat.] And sometimes the destinies of others. But the point stands: it is man, not predestined fate, that dominates.
[identity profile] enigmaestro.livejournal.com
I have need of a telepath. Or a bodily possessor, or a magician – any of the above would suit this purpose.

And before you lot so flippantly ignore this call for aid, I want you to consider this one tiny little detail: you’re not doing this for me. You’re be doing it for him.

[Camera scans to Katurian, sitting listlessly and looking at nothing in particular. He simply stares, seemingly catatonic. Motionless. Desireless.]

for ooc context )
[identity profile] enigmaestro.livejournal.com
Certain elements of Gotham really ought to remain in Gotham. [A passive-aggressive beat.] Don't you agree, Jonathan?

|
[What follows is the known presence of an encryption. This is an entirely easy encryption to break -- and he well knows it.]
BEWARE THE STOLEN OF: DECLARE. BANK ON THAT.

[Encrypted to: FELICIA HARDY]
Your possessions appear to be in my house. That's rather sudden.
[identity profile] enigmaestro.livejournal.com
Most of us perceive time as linear, wouldn't you agree? Even here. Even now. But really, events tend to possess a more circular pattern.

Read more... )
[identity profile] enigmaestro.livejournal.com
[Someone's outside. On the streets.]

Now, I’m not often a supporter of current societal systems. Granted, they have their functions, but all perform so imperfectly. I’m inclined to blame the inane clod of bureaucracy, in part. Take – say -- mental institutions; they’re so liable to commit individuals without appropriate evidence because of corruption or human error, and goodness, such a hypothetical mess can take weeks to clean up.

Six of them, to be precise.

But society has its archetypes, you know. The specific ones who spark change, the – [Pause.] Cogs of the ignition. The inventor, the politician. The anarchist. The martyr.

The martyr can be breathtakingly effective.

[Encrypted to Arthur.]

Two favors.
[identity profile] enigmaestro.livejournal.com
[His drawl is casual, idle even.]

Scenario: your daughter is a sadistic psychopath with a history of, oh I don't know, brutal homicide and savors a penchant for torturing people. She's ruined countless lives during her reign of terror, and finally the law has caught up with her. She's sentenced to a rather deserved death. But oh, your sickly significant other -- whom you love so deeply -- can't bear the idea of your only daughter dying. They concoct a plan that would ultimately kill them in order to preserve your progeny's life. This plan is fool-proof and will indeed work. You try to reason with them, to no avail. [His voice pitches higher:] It doesn't matter, they argue, I'd die within a few months anyway. This is my final wish, honor it if you love me.

There's the scenario.

So what do you do?

Do you -- Choice the first -- honor your loved one's dying plea and kill them in order to subject your psychotic daughter to a lifetime of hiding, and thus run the risk of her killing again.

Choice the second, you decline your lover's begging and sentence your daughter to her death, earning the hate of your lover in their final days.

Third choice, you agree to your significant other's wishes and only until after they die do you kill your daughter. This ensures she cannot murder again (because oh, you know she will) but it's also a silent betrayal.

Fourth option: do you remain loyal to your lover but, once they die, you wipe your hands clean of your responsibility and leave your daughter to her own devices? Perhaps she'll get caught again, and then you're under no obligation to protect her for her years to come.

You must choose one of the solutions above, because that's how this game is played.
[identity profile] enigmaestro.livejournal.com
The action, since spliced
A head lost and wandering
The body, returned.

I've always wanted to try riddles within haiku. It's a poetry in itself, riddling, but when measured so precisely, so delicately? Simply sublime.

But it seems I have my chance after all.

Hello.

ooc || Aw, look who's back. He's in NOHoPE now, and unable to accept private/encrypted material. If a character attempts, they will be met with the embarrassing standard message of YOUR PARTY IN QUESTION CURRENTLY CANNOT ACCEPT PRIVATE CONVERSATION.
[identity profile] enigmaestro.livejournal.com
Tragic, isn't it? The disappointment that haunts endeavors. Individuals. No matter how much faith you invest, no matter how much you care. No matter what guidance you offer.

This is why I never took on sidekicks.

When does a person no longer deserve a second chance? Is there even such a thing?

[Encrypted to Mitchell Hundred.]
I'm obligated to speak with you.
[identity profile] enigmaestro.livejournal.com
What is a gift of the past, held in the present, and aspiring towards the future?

[There's a casual beat. It's brief, he's not accepting any answers.]

Legacy. One's own, shall we say, collective narrative. Some might attribute their stories to that of fate, or any variable beyond their control. Others strive to forge their own legends using the crude inheritance they were born with, hoping to create something more immortal than dead deeds. And few might even seek to start anew, obliterating one thing in exchange for another.

We all have our legacies here, don't we? The environment gives easy rise to the occasion. The past week is, if anything, yet another dazzling example of why. Perhaps in ways subtler than the ideal.
[identity profile] enigmaestro.livejournal.com
A real curiosity, isn't it? A real delving question, how mythos -- how stories -- can so easily carve the details of humanity's failings. I cite Daedalus, a man who created puzzles to hide monsters. And his son, Icarus: a disappointment, a fluttering fireball. A boy whose greatest story was death.

Cringe-worthy, isn't it?

So -- how does that comment upon yourselves? Do you follow a story, a pattern, or do you create it? During these darker hours, full of death and loss and chaos, what narrative do you whisper to yourself?
[identity profile] enigmaestro.livejournal.com
[The camera awakens to an extremely close and likely illegal view of this painting. There's a slight zoom out, and a soft narration over audio.]

As you can see, Picasso's revolutionary Cubist technique expands the jovial Harlequin figure, bringing every aspect of dimension to a leveled glance. Picasso, quite fond of the connotation surrounding the Harlequin, often portrayed himself as said figure, capturing himself within his own work -- and, by extension, entrapping the occasional art connoisseur.

[Flash over to Eddie's face. He is greatly displeased.]

Literally. Entrapping. Them.

[The black background behind him quivers and brims with red. A group of something that look suspiciously like question marks flock to the corners of the screen.]
[identity profile] enigmaestro.livejournal.com
[Encrypted to NORMAN OSBORN]

Urgent. Unforeseen problem, ready your Avengers.

[Encrypted to ACTIVE THUNDERBOLTS]

All active and able Thunderbolts, report in. Now.

ooc || right before this scene.
acrossyourpath: (Default)
[personal profile] acrossyourpath
[ The video turns on and there's Felicia's face, domino mask on and bangs pulled back. She grins and winks at the monitor, setting it down on a table and pressing a finger to her lips. ]

Felicia! Have you seen my tie? -- The black and purple one, you know, the Italian silk?

[ The communicator is slowly turned to face a cake — a birthday cake, judging by the candles, numbers and a question mark, that proclaim an uncertain and facetious 350? There is a black stripe across the cake, highlighted with purple. Maybe it's icing? Maybe... ]

Felicia!

What!

[Rather rushed and masculine footsteps are heard in the background. The angle of the camera catches the torso of a detective very fond of green.]

Is... Is that what I think it is?

[ Mostly off screen. ] If you think it's a cake, then yes.

Give me back my tie!

[A scuffle of noise ensues.]

And I am not three-hundred and fifty! What are you, twelve?

[A gloved hand grabs the zero and flings it out of sight.]

Talk about gratitude. [ Sarcasm. Smirk in her voice, though. ] I think you'd be in trouble if I was.

[Shattering noise.]

You soiled my tie with cake. [Beat.] And I'm thirty-five, dammit!

[Transmission feed cuts.]
[identity profile] enigmaestro.livejournal.com
If we might all take a momentary break from the mundane melodrama afoot? I’m sure some of you would be engaged by this scintillating scientific discovery: astronomers have detected perhaps the most ancient thing in the universe up to date.

And no, I’m not speaking of Lust.

A galaxy estimated to be thirteen-point-one billion years old. Think of a birth about six hundred million years after the Big Bang. Breathtaking, isn’t it? Of course, people tend to cling to chronological order, when speaking of time. There are more angles to such a concept, but one is favored above all else. Why? Perhaps because, occasionally, something bad happens to us, something terrible, and it gets displaced on a linear time scale. You can’t quite pinpoint it again; it’s almost questionable if it happened at all. Repression, invoked amnesia -- the names for this are endless.

Perhaps we are not the architects of time, but its editors.

Or its cowards.

[ Encrypted to Norman Osborn. ]

Speaking of old, have we missed your special day?
[identity profile] enigmaestro.livejournal.com
I do hate when people go inexplicably quiet for long periods of time. It's so suspicious, isn't it? And naturally everyone simply has to make the same observation simultaneously about said suspicion, as if their remarks are particularly insightful or something equally absurd.

Really.


[ encrypted to Ghost, "Yelena", Moonstone and Takaya Sakaki; all on separate encrypted lines ]

Been awhile, hasn't it? Current status report, if you please. [Beat.] Yes darlings, we're on notice for a mission. A mission that is not obligatory, repeat, not obligatory.

Unless you like getting paid, of course, in which I highly recommend reporting in.

[ encrypted to Shiva ]

Why hello. I have a proposition for you.

[ encrypted to Dr. Angelica Einstürzen ]

You're about six months late for my coffee order, Angelica. I do hope you remembered the Splenda.

[ encrypted to Baron Helmut Zemo ]

Good morning, Mr. Zemo. I couldn't help but notice that you're a man of organization.
[identity profile] enigmaestro.livejournal.com
[Video switches on. The screen pans around a room belonging to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, in the Egyptian exhibit. There are momentary focuses on statuettes of Osiris and Iris. Eddie speaks behind the communicator, drawing his vowels out lazily, mimicking the documentary narrative voice.]

I’m hardly one for the infamous Ozymandias line—Percy Shelley was always a bit dramatic, wouldn’t you say?—but the general entropy of power draws my interest. Let’s take, for example, the largest power of the ancient world—the Achaemenid Persian empire—which reigned from 550 to 330 B.C. Throughout its history a pattern of power was established by the opportunistic and the pragmatic. Darius the Great is a prime example, having claimed relation to Achaemenes after the current king’s son died en route to Persia, and thus establishing status as the heir apparent through possibly unproven, or dare I say potentially forged? documents. Nevertheless, this was a significant political turning point that had sown the seeds of a genetic legacy. Curious thing, isn’t it? The world was changed because of a single moment seized. But then again, what empire hasn’t fallen on its knees before the opportunistic and pragmatic?

You’re welcome for this educational tidbit, by the way.

[He meanders, after stationing the communicator nearby, hands folded behind his back, before the collected ruins of the Mastaba Tomb of Perneb.]

Of course, the rival power to the Persian Empire was Egypt. Is it all making sense yet? The capital of Memphis fell in 525 B.C. following a ten-day siege. Five-Two-Five-Ten. Heh.

[On his left is the blue-tinted Sphinx of Amenhotep III. He halts, staring at it.]

Well. [Pause.] Hngh. That brings back memories.

[He looks at the sculpture a moment too long before walking back to cut video feed. All replies will be in voice, unless otherwise stated.]
[identity profile] enigmaestro.livejournal.com
Norman, I have to speak with you. Immediately. So if you would be so kind as to discourage any additional talk show cameos until we've chatted? Much obliged.
[identity profile] enigmaestro.livejournal.com
[There is absolutely no background noise; he's inside and alone.]

If it's not one thing in this City then it's another, isn't it? No rest for the wicked, I suppose--well, if that held true, we'd all be very bad people. Surely that's not the case? But then we've come to expect chaos. Perhaps we're just desensitized to unrelenting stream of action and trauma, perhaps we're cynical. Or perhaps we're addicted.

On another note, how does one celebrate a year spent here? Do you blissfully ignore it, or hope the night goes out with a bang?

[Encrypted to all Thunderbolts, individually.]

Thunderbolts, report. Time to shine.

[Private to Mitch Hundred.]

I'd like a word.
[identity profile] enigmaestro.livejournal.com
[Encrypted exclusively to Norman Osborn; unhackable]
I've been patient, Osborn, admirably so. But now I want answers. No one with a sufficient amount of active brain cells would believe that it was easy for a burglar to break into your property. I know who you have providing security, so let's not even play the innocence game. I'd like some discussion on the details, if you please, because like hell will I underestimate you as all the sheep seem to be doing. Don't ever think I'm one of them, do you understand me?

[Encrypted exclusively to Jonathan Crane; unhackable]
Jon. Any more progress yet? I want that report sooner rather than later.

[Encrypted exclusively to Yelena Belova's communicator, as provided by Norman Osborn; unhackable]
Miss Belova. I'm Edward Nygma. I think we need to talk.

[Encrypted exclusively to Slade Wilson; unhackable]
Why hello again. We hadn't finished our conversation, now had we?
[identity profile] enigmaestro.livejournal.com
[His eyes are peeking betwixt ungloved fingers, wide and wild. Edward does not blink throughout the entire transmission, but his pupils are consistently darting to and fro, darting about at a hummingbird’s pace. He looks disheveled, wretched and yet glowing with some intangible, nigh-golden force.]

I can—I have tried—over these past few hours—youhavetounderstanditisalotto—

[A pause. He seems captivated by something; he takes a deep, sensual breath.]

Cameron—who? Their safety—John and—and—Kyle and GLaDOS and who--? That can’t stop the cold. The lonely—that feeling won’t—look, I’m sorry—

[Grabs at the communicator, shaking it.]

Don’t. Don’t ignore this. The Porter—Don’t attack. I can see it, feel it, God it’s almost like being it, Alastair, don’t yield to that—It can’t end well—bloody hell, someone stop him! Someone stop it.

[A crack in his voice; the strain is apparent.]

Desire. Please. Stop it.

ooc || Eddie’s been hooked to the Threshold! That means he’ll be spewing desires from this permissions post throughout the span of comments here. If your desire wasn’t mentioned in the opening (didn’t want to bullet the material) fret not! Eddie will be sure to play the sibyl to someone.
[identity profile] enigmaestro.livejournal.com
[ encrypted to Norman Osborn ]

Well. That worked out nicely, I must say. Have you your speech prepared? You know, something a little more elaborate than what the news is showing. Considering all our hard work, you ought to damn well milk this.

How many stations do you want at the funeral? I have a contact at Channel Four who’s inclined to do business.

[ encrypted to Angelica ]

Whoops. It seems I will require your services this week after all. Report to me immediately.

[ encrypted to Ghost ]

Mission time.

ooc || in reference to this tragedy.
[identity profile] enigmaestro.livejournal.com
--You need to turn on your--- [Pause. The voice was distant, slightly muffled, and there’s some brushing rumbling sounds as a hand searches his pocket.] This isn’t---

Oh. Oh dear. No, no, no, don’t do this to me!

[He takes out the communicator and switches to video. There’s a cell phone in his free hand and an incredulous, somewhat furious expression on his face. No question marks on his suit! He was on a date, you know.]

I was on a date, you know. A date with quite a divine young woman and I wasn’t done. Whatever will Angela think? I’ll be entirely bored if I ever return to that moment now. Thanks a lot.

[Switches back to voice. Muttering.]

Unbelievable.

There really is no end.

So what have I missed?

[Encrypted to Norman Osborn]

You’ll have to excuse the theatrics, Osborn, I couldn’t have the whole City aware of my return immediately. I doubt anyone of significance will question, anyway. I took the liberty of utilizing my first few hours back to scan recent events. Apparently I’ve missed roughly a week.

And apparently our little plan concerning your boy is in motion. American Son, really? I detect a theme of yours. Of course, I’m able to detect a lot of things again.

[Encrypted to Tony Stark]

Goodness, Tony, we really need to chat. Long time no see, and so forth.

[Encrypted to GLaDOS]

Hello.
[identity profile] enigmaestro.livejournal.com
[Static, blurred static, and slowly a hazy video comes into focus. The communicator is on the ground, propped against a streetlight, and has full view of Edward Nygma. Civilians scatter before him, out of the way, as he staggers. He raises a hand, spreading his fingers, and zaps out an electric bolt. It strikes the third level of an apartment complex, which bursts into flames. His other hand is clenched, holding four unseen batteries. The buzzing and static overpowers the audio and he appears to be screaming something.

He turns, spying his dropped communicator, and runs to reclaim it, scooping it up.]

--bbztt----Terrible accident, I can't---bzzzznnnn!

[Lightning dances from his hands and strikes a streetlight and a mailbox. He turns the camera away from him, so none can see his smirk.]


ooc || Eddie has "misplaced" Pete's headset, so he can't control his electric powers and thus arguably cannot be held responsible for his actions. He'll be ported out by the end of this and return mid-week, keeping quiet until Sunday or Saturday.
[identity profile] enigmaestro.livejournal.com
[Dododo dododododododo dododo! CHANNEL FOUR NEWS flickers onto the screen for anyone whose communicator is on. The urgent harbinger of monosyllabic dos bring attention to a flustered and clearly unscheduled broadcast.

An attractive male, mid-thirties with a strained smile, sits before the screen. The perceptive will notice he’s clenching the papers in his hands just a little too tightly.]

This is Rath Danners reporting. We at Channel Four alert you to breaking news: in addition to the extremely violent outbreak of rioting in the downtown area, a record high of audacious looting and robberies has struck uptown, reigning terror upon that district. Twenty-four counts of murder and manslaughter have been recorded thus far. Disputes are amassing in greater numbers. There is no suspected gang activity—it appears—it appears that these larceny prone mobs are—accumulating at random. Local and notable psychiatrist Doctor Franklin Raud explains—blahblahblahblah.


LIVING BEYOND YOUR MEANS. )

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