Villain
Posts: 1
Gender: Male
Alignment: Evil
Age: unknown
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Post by The Joker on Oct 10, 2017 23:14:48 GMT -5
Why should I apologize For being the monster I've become, when no one apologizes for making me this way. 
The Joker had ascended in the ranks of the criminal underworld, every ounce of his chaotic energy and cunning intelligence had been focused on thriving as a villain. However,once he had conquered the criminal underworld and earned the alias "King of Gotham" from mob bosses and the like. His unstable mind found the achievement dreary and once again craved a challenge. Without Harley Quinn to occupy his attentions, the Joker's mind drifted towards a new task. Which was Taking over the entirety of Gotham and turning it into a chaotic utopia for unstable minds like his own. Ruling the crime sector of Gotham no longer satisfied the psychotic clown, he wanted to deconstruct the entire city and rebuild it in his own image. While this may have seemed impossible to a sane man, The Joker saw only two obstacles that would object to him achieving such a goal.
The first of these obstacles was the Bat family, over the years the clown king of crime had grown sick of the Bat family insignia. The flying rodents those "heroes" boasted on their chests would haunt the Joker's dreams for an eternity. The second obstacle was the Gotham City Police department. Now clearly the former obstacle would be more fun, so it only made sense to leave the best for last. The Joker had decided to take on the latter obstacle first. In the Joker's mind, Taking down the GCPD seemed like a new level of a video game he was already well versed in. All it would take was a little manipulation, money and blood. To the Joker, these were the only three ingredients you needed to cook up unlimited power over others. At first he spent weeks corrupting a few police officers and adding them to his payroll. This yielded many benefits like inside information, schematics and additional man power.
Once the Joker had gathered up enough information and did all of the tedious planning required. The fun part came along, he had gathered up a team of about 15 men and six black armored trucks. The men were equipped with military grade weapons and body armor. The Joker on the other hand was equipped with a few lightweight weapons such as knives, pistols,poison gas canisters, smoke grenades and frag grenades. He wore a well tailored dark purple suit that contrasted his pale skin perfectly and with a single command the six armored trucks sped toward GCPD headquarters. The Joker lazily followed behind in his purple lamborghini.
The Joker had instructed 2 of the 11 police officers on his payroll to cut all communication the police station had with the outside world. That meant no pesky 911 calls could be made or received and no patrol cars could be called for backup. Then as if orchestrated by devine clockwork, mere moments before the six armored trucks and their insane leader parked outside of the police station, all 11 of the police on the Joker's payroll made one excuse or another to step outside to await for their unstable employer. These 11 cops added onto the 15 men the Joker had already acquired, once they all stood before the police station 3 large cannon-like guns were drawn from the back of the armored trucks. These large weapons manned by three of the Joker's employees launched canisters filled to the brim with a poisonous gas through the windows of the police station. Upon entering the station, the canisters immediately released their deadly contents, the poison quickly became airborne and in a matter of moments the inhabitants of the police station began violently coughing and looking for exits to preserve their fragile lives.
The rest of the Joker's men covered all entrances and stood ready to fire at any police officers or civilians that tried to escape the poisonous gas buy exiting the police station. it didn't matter if they wore uniform or not, anyone that exited the police station would be met with a flurry of bullets.
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Neutral
Posts: 15
Alignment: Neutral
Age: 22
Offline
Oh, my goodness gracious! I've been bamboozled!
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Post by Jason Todd on Oct 11, 2017 2:05:54 GMT -5
I don't bring forgiveness. I don't bring peace.
Red Hood
I've come to slay you. Come to kill the beast. death is coming To purge this town i hunt for you with bloodied feet across the hallowed ground "Have you ever been abused by someone so brutal that it chills your soul? Have you ever been afraid of your own ghost?"
Jason Todd stood before his armory bench, field stripping and cleaning gun after gun after gun. Each movement was precise and methodical. There was a distinct tightness in the draw of his broad shoulders. Each wipe of the rag, pull of the pipe, was too precise, too methodical. It served to illustrate the anxiousness creeping through his veins. No matter how he tried to strangle the demons down, they clawed their way back up. He could feel it in each cell and breath, taste it like ash on his tongue. They howled, demanding satisfaction in the form of flesh and blood. But he couldn't give in to their brutal demands. It wasn't time. Not yet, but it was inching ever closer.
The Joker was out. He knew that very well. His men posted around the city alerted him that something was going down. Exactly what, he didn't know. The clown knew how to cover his tracks, that was for certain. But like Laelaps of myth, Jason always got his prey. This madman would be no different. If he had to break and hurt himself to watch that monster drown in his own blood, then so be it. Jason would get his retribution. For every ounce of pain he was forced to endure, he'd pay it back tenfold until the heavens themselves wept at the brutality he inflicted. It would be oh so sweet.
His jaw clenched as that damned laugh echoed in his brain. It was always there, in his sleep and when the Pit Madness was just too strong. He would rip those vocal chords from Joker's throat with his bare hands just so he'd never have to hear that godawful cacophony again. Deep breath in. He picked up an empty clip and started sliding in bullets. Deep breath out. Titanium composite hollow point bullets with a C4 kicker. Fastest, most explosive ammo in the world. Handmade for this moment.
Every bullet that fell into place, he dedicated to someone who suffered under that painted bastard. Barbara. Click. Jim. Click. Sheila. Click. All the families buried six feet under. Click. That little boy he'd been. Click. The innocence he lost. Click. Each bullet would serve as a little bit of vengeance. He slipped the extra clip into a holster on his belt and started filling another. There were plenty of bullets to dedicate, after all.
Sometimes, he would dream he was still in his grave, pounding and pounding against the lid and running out of air. The taste of dirt choking him as he clawed his way out of his own casket was something he'd never, ever forget, even if he'd been clinically brain dead at that point. It was such a primal terror, it stuck with him through the haze of his resurrection and brain trauma. For a moment, he had contemplated on burying Joker alive and letting him suffer as Jason did but he wouldn't give the criminal a chance to escape again.
He did it once, placing his bet that Batman would actually pull the trigger, and he lost his chance. That damned clown lived because Bruce just couldn't see past his own self-righteous morality. All those people that creature was responsible for killing, the graveyards he filled, and Batman still let him walk. It was absolutely sickening. But Jason would do what his mentor wouldn't. He'd put that scum in the dirt where he belonged. Better yet, he'd burn his body until nothing but ashes remained, then he'd scatter those ashes among the landfill where they belonged.
As he sharpened the dagger he received from the League of Assassins, his burner phone rang. Like a livewire coming to life beneath his skin, he jolted and grabbed the cell. The exchange was short, but just what he wanted to hear. That signature purple lamborghini was spotted on the move with armored trucks just ahead. So Joker was finally making his move? Jason swiftly reassembled his weapons and slipped them into their holsters. He triple checked his inventory, making sure to carry his antitoxin and antivenom doses, his explosive and smoke pellets, grenades hidden beneath his weighted, armored jacket, throwing stars and knives, and his various small tools used to pick locks and get past security. It was time.
Jason made no attempt to call in the Bat brigade. They would just try and lock the Joker up and that was something Jason didn't intend on letting happen. There would be no six month body cast, no solitary confinement. On his way out of his hideout, he grabbed a duffle bag containing a large iron crowbar. The thing still gave him nightmares like no other. Red Hood couldn't wait to hear the Joker's bones snap with each swing. He didn't expect the insane villain to scream or cry. He was too far gone in the head to react as such. In fact, he'd probably enjoy it to some degree. That didn't mean Jason wouldn't get immense pleasure in beating him. Watching the blood flow until he was more red than bleach white was something he'd dreamt about.
As it turns out, Joker was hitting the GCPD. Getting the cops out of the way would bring him one step closer to making Gotham his playground. Well, the Red Hood would just have to do something about that, wouldn't he? He observed the mayhem from a rooftop across the street. Heavily armored units were trapping people in the building with toxin flooding the place. Joker must be having a riot right now. It made his blood boil. He marked at least two dozen people on Joker's side. Now this was a party. Nothing like a warm up to get him in the game.
He jumped from the building, free falling for a moment, before he grappled to the roof of the GCPD. The batsignal reminded dark despite the horrors occurring just beneath its position. Jason strolled almost leisurely toward the rooftop access point. No doubt it'd be guarded in an attempt to keep Bats out and victims in. Thermal imaging coming in from his helmet only confirmed his theory. He whistled almost casually as he twirled a gun, the picture of ease. It was such a contrast to the maelstrom of hatred and violence brewing beneath his skin.
Getting in was simple. A small timed sticky on the lock and well placed shots to the guards let him right in. He could see the sickly haze of Joker's toxin lingering in the air, and not for the first time he was glad he switched to using a helmet with built in filters. A criminal rounded the corner and let out a strangled yell at seeing Red Hood at the ready. 'BANG' The body was thrown back from the force of the round at point blank range. Jason didn't even wait for the body to hit the ground before he continued moving in search of the object of his hatred.
Each shot, each throw of a knife and bang of an explosive was just his way of trying to draw the Joker to him. He called out loud, not even attempting to mask his advance. "Knock knock, Joker. Hope you don't mind me crashing your little party here. I didn't even get an invite, how rude. Really, I'm offended." His words were light and almost joking, though the sharp, sharp edge to them was unmistakable.
Words: 1,236 || Tagged: The Joker || Notes: LET THE GAMES BEGIN! |
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