DC Earth 2: Jokes On You (Warden, James, Dooms)
<h1 id="title">Elliquiy Role Playing Forums</h1>
		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Exotic Solos =&gt; Topic started by: JamesSureWould on 08-12-2015, 07:02:37</h2>
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				Title: <strong>DC Earth 2: Jokes On You (Warden, James, Dooms)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>JamesSureWould</strong> on <strong>08-12-2015, 07:02:37</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft">(http://40.media.tumblr.com/5f1df120007898710b6b00dab4bcd0a7/tumblr_ny4p03ZR7b1r69ioco1_500.png)</div><hr><strong>Name:</strong> Richard ‘Dick’ Grayson<br><strong>Nom de Guerre:</strong> Nightwing<br><strong>Affiliation:</strong> The Bat Family<br><strong>Time:</strong> July 17th 2015. 2330 hours<br><strong>Location:</strong> The Bowery<br><strong>Tagging:</strong> Harley Quinn, Jason Todd<br><hr><hr><strong>Summary: </strong> Dick feels conflicted about Harley Quinn getting out of Arkham, decides to investigate her apartment. <br><hr><hr><br>Harley Quinn was back in town. That simple phrase was enough to send shivers down Dick Grayson’s spine. The Joker’s lieutenant had been declared sane by the board at Arkham, and they’d seen fit to unleash her onto the public. And in commemoration… nothing happened. There were no explosions, no sudden cases of Joker Toxin poisoning, nothing. All of his worst fears had been left unfulfilled. Was his paranoia unfounded? Or was she playing a longer game?<br><br>He’d managed to talk to Quinn’s therapist, the one who had cleared her and said that she was no longer a threat to herself or to others. And listening to him talk, Quinn did seem like she had turned a new leaf. But Dick found that he couldn't accept it at face value. He wanted to to believe that someone like Harley could be redeemed, because then it meant that Jason hadn’t been right when he’d said that killing the villains would make life in Gotham better. It meant that he and Bruce had been doing the right thing, because there was a chance that the people they fought could get rehabilitation. It meant that his actions were making a difference in the lives of the villains he fought and not just the people that he saved. And that would make it all worth it, every broken bone, every bruise, every cut, every gunshot wound.<br><br>But, much as he wanted to believe, it was hard to shake the feeling that something was still wrong with Quinn. It was hard to forget everything that she’d done, all the things she’d done at the Joker’s request. Could someone who seemed to love someone that evil really be able to come back? He needed to check. To prove to himself that she was normal. Which was how he came to her Apartment building in The Bowery, jumping from the building across the street so that he could land on the window sill of her apartment.&nbsp; <br><br>Clinging to the side of her window, Dick pressed his ear against the class and listened carefully for any noises that would let him figure out if she was out on the town somewhere. Thankfully it didn't sound like anyone was home. There was some water running, but that could have just as easily been someone running a shower in the apartment across the hall.&nbsp; An old crappy building like this meant thin walls. Which meant he'd have a hell of a time trying to isolate what sounds were coming from Quinn’s apartment and which were coming from the others. Bruce would have had him hold back for minutes longer and try to figure out exactly what noises were coming from from what apartments. But Grayson always found it hard to worry about things like that. <br><br><em>‘eh, if something comes up I'll improvise.’ </em>He thought to himself as he slowly and silently pushed the window up and slid into her living room. It was his motto for being a hero if he was being honest with himself. All the training, all the planning, and yet Dick still enjoyed the rush of thinking on his feet. Bruce planned everything to a ridiculous degree, accounting for things that could never happen in a million years. There was an intense control and concentration when he did anything that had always reminded Dick of Classical music. But as Nightwing, Dick got t make a few changes to how he operated. He trained constantly, making sure his body was in absolutely top shape. He planned almost as obsessively as Bruce, accounting for every variable he could see. But when it came time for action, well, Dick liked to think of himself as closer to Jazz. There was a rhythm, and it was based on rules, but no one wasn’t actually aware of how he worked could see the rules, the plans, the hours of practise that it took to make his actions seem utterly effortless and off the cuff. <br><br><em>‘Thank god most people don’t lock their window.’</em>&nbsp; His mind wandered as he scanned the first room, looking for any signs of something suspicious. But the apartment seemed normal enough. Barebones, only the most essential furniture, but that made sense given that Harley had just gotten out of Arkham two days before. She probably didn’t have many job offers lined up thanks to her history as Joker’s old sidekick. <br><br>Honestly, he felt bad for Harley. He’d been in her shoes before, the eager to please assistant to someone more skilled, more driven, and more insane they could ever be. His mentor hadn’t killed people and tried to drive the world mad, but it was a fine line. If Batman had been just slightly more unhinged, maybe the training that bordered on child abuse would have resembled the abusive relationship that Harley had shared with the Joker. Maybe Batman’s methods would have been more brutal and his one rule, no killing, wouldn’t have existed. And then what would he have been? Some dark twisted mirror of himself, something like what Harley Quinn had been when she’d been with the Joker? <br><br>Empathy aside though, his suspicions still held true. She’d done so much that he couldn’t just forget. Before the paranoia would fade he needed proof one way or another. Could he trust the Crown Princess of Crime?
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				Title: <strong>Re: DC Earth 2: Jokes On You (Warden, James, Dooms)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Doomsday</strong> on <strong>09-12-2015, 02:56:21</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft">(http://i.imgur.com/NLAJf2w.png)</div><hr><strong>Name:</strong> Jason Todd<br><strong>Nom de Guerre:</strong> The Red Hood<br><strong>Affiliation:</strong> The Bat Family<br><strong>Time:</strong> Friday, July 17th, 2015, 11:30 P.M.<br><strong>Location:</strong> The Bowery, downtown &nbsp;(http://www.pictureshack.us/images/10161_gotham_map-GCS.PNG)Gotham<br><strong>Tagging:</strong> Dick Grayson | Nightwing, Harleen Quinzel | Harley Quinn<br><hr><hr><strong>Summary:</strong> Jason Todd is laying low at a bar two blocks away, keeping surveillance up on Harley's apartment from a watch tucked into his jacket sleeve. As soon as he sees her enter through the front door and come within decent proximity of her stove, he's going to blow her entire apartment up. Jason's been monitoring the situation for 24 hours, and knows that neither of her neighbors would be around, in case the explosion affected their homes as well.<hr><hr><br>Jason kept a lot of tabs on the more notorious prisoners in Arkham and Blackgate. It was something that had been drilled into him by Batman, more than eight years ago now. The stinking wound that was those two prisons occasionally became swollen with pus until it drained into the city around it, releasing a sickness of criminals who could repeat their crimes and add to the decay of the city. This phenomenon of repeat criminality had always rankled Jason when he was younger. His father, a forgettable thug in Two-Face's employ had been in and out of the clink while he had been growing up. When he wasn't behind bars, he was at home, sapping away at his mother's self respect, hitting his son until he stopped being a 'pussy'. Back then, Jason had blamed him for everything; His mother's addiction, the lack of food on the table, the draft of the unheated 'castle' he had afforded for them in Crime Alley, his mother's miscarriage, her eventual overdose... When he had been a boy, a chair propped up under his bedroom door handle so that the sound of his father throwing his mother down the stairs could stay as far away as possible, he wondered why the cops didn't just kill Willis Todd. Things would have been so much easier for Jason and Catherine. Maybe he could have lived a normal life if not for him.<br><br>That inkling, deep-seated hatred of criminals had inspired him to put on the Robin costume after he had lucked into Wayne's estate, and the desire to clean the streets, to prevent Arkham and Blackgate from overflowing almost annually by not giving those same criminals a chance to even see jailtime... It had lead to a lot of friction between him and Batman. His first kill had actually been while he still had worn the Robin uniform, a pimp who controlled underage women had 'somehow' found himself falling down twenty flights. Bruce had came too late, and Jason told him unconvincingly that the man had tripped. <br><br>After his death, his rebirth, his training with the League and the All-caste, Jason's wishes to purge the criminals of Gotham had only been redoubled and was now being reinforced by his rich and sadistic benefactors. He had returned to Gotham and declared war against the organized crime elements, reining in those that could be controlled, and butchering the rest. Even now, six years after those events, and five years after the death of his true father had softened his evil heart, Jason still had no doubts about it: Harley Quinn would die by his hand once she hit the streets again.<br><br>She had been the Joker's goon for too long, and even though she had eventually bit the hand that fed her and killed Joker- He still couldn't believe that it wasn't a cover-up- She was still a rabid dog that was better off dead. He had her parole date marked on his calendar, and had been stalking her movements ever since. What would she have thought if she knew that the former Robin was listening in electronically as she hastily signed lease forms to the first apartment building that would take her? She might have been playing sane for the microphones, but Jason knew that her heart and soul were still dog-shit. He cased her apartment before she had even received her keys, surveying, deciding the best way he could kill her without hurting the others in her apartment building. To the left of her door was an older Puerto Rican woman raising three grandchildren by herself; To the right of Harley's door was a young couple new to Gotham. None of those six had done anything wrong, but if they lived next door to Harley Quinn for too long, she'd kill them all. Jason knew this in his once-still heart as fact.<br><br>The bomb had been rigged beneath her oven; If she dropped a penny and laid down on her tummy to retrieve it from beneath the stove, she wouldn't have even seen it. Jason had worked with explosives before his death, a hobby Bruce had instilled with him, as the dynamic duo found themselves in a bomb situation far too often for their tastes. Now, instead of defusing bombs, Jason could make them, and he as good at it. He'd make it look like an accident. The next time she went to burn a grilled <em>goddamned</em> cheese, she'd be blown out of the building in a pillar of fire. Of course, this could only happen when Ms. Nuñez and kids were visiting her junkie son across town, and when Gretchen and Doug were out doing whatever normal 20-somethings did. So Jason had been staking out Harley's apartment the entire time, aided by a rig of surveillance equipment set up in and around her building.<br><br>Todd was lurking only two blocks away, sitting inside of a biker bar, monitoring Quinn's place from a special watch that he kept tucked inside of the wrist of his jacket. <strong>"I'll take another Labatt,"</strong> he grunted to the girl at the bar, shoving another five dollar bill forward. Tonight would be the night... If the bitch ever came home. Unfortunately for Jason, his equipment wasn't set to detect someone entering from the window; He kept swilling his Canadian beer as Dick Grayson investigated Harley's new home.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: DC Earth 2: Jokes On You (Warden, James, Dooms)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Diesel Heart</strong> on <strong>09-12-2015, 04:54:41</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft">(http://orig09.deviantart.net/2bf4/f/2015/208/8/0/harley_suicide_squad_by_abraaolucas-d933ife.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>&nbsp; Harleen Francis Quinzel&nbsp; |&nbsp; <strong>Moniker:</strong>&nbsp; Harley Quinn<br><strong>Affiliation:</strong>&nbsp; Unaffiliated&nbsp; |&nbsp; Formerly Suicide Squad<br><strong>Location:</strong>&nbsp; Harley's Apartment, Gotham;&nbsp; Bowery of Downtown<br><strong>Time:</strong>&nbsp; July 17th, 2015;&nbsp; 2230 Hours<br><strong>Speaking To:</strong>&nbsp; Nightwing<br><strong>Mentioning:</strong>&nbsp; <br><strong>Scene Music:</strong>&nbsp; Boy Epic - Scars (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RCRXobvs9_I)<br><hr><hr><strong>Summary:</strong>&nbsp; Harley was none the wiser to Nightwing's invasion or Red Hood's planted explosive, enjoying some relaxing time in a shower after a long day of harassment and visitation.&nbsp; Stepping out in nothing but a towel to find some intruder, she mistakes him for another assailant and immediately goes on the offensive, brandishing a baseball bat aiming to crack a skull.<br><hr><br>&nbsp; <span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size"><strong>T</strong></span>wo days after released from Arkham, Harley managed to secure a place in a derelict apartment building tucked somewhere in the Bowery.&nbsp; The owner was some nondescript, average-joe who developed some false sense of importance because he knows a guy who knows a guy.&nbsp; A leech sucking off the repudiated land of someone bigger, blinded by arrogance that easily becomes the sniveling coward when it bites him in the ass.&nbsp; Unlike her, everyone else in the building was a sob story of misfortune and pointed blame to everyone but themselves.&nbsp; Still, despite its faults and the copious amount of drug trafficking out of the building, it was home.&nbsp; Home, for now at least.&nbsp; There was no way in hell she'd be here forever.&nbsp; Not a woman of her skillset.&nbsp; Whispers traveled like reverberating echoes across Gotham and everything that was waiting on this moment began to initiate.&nbsp; Everyone in Gotham that paid attention or had the mental development to recognize the world around them knew who she was.&nbsp; The Crown Princess of Crime.&nbsp; The lieutenant of one of the most feared gangs to ever taint the streets.&nbsp; The tale of one of Arkham's youngest and brightest employees that specialized in criminal psychology ending up Joker's cocksleeve was one that spread like wildfire.&nbsp; Naturally, when she hit the streets a free woman, <em>everyone</em> took notice.<br><br>Five years have passed since the death of Batman;&nbsp; six years since the death of Joker.&nbsp; Yet, even through all that time, things just didn't change.&nbsp; Gotham was a creature of habit and tradition.&nbsp; Its streets were paved in crimson and its buildings sat on the foundation of political subterfuge.&nbsp; Things also happen very quickly because it doesn't sleep and it waits for no man.&nbsp; In less than twenty four hours,&nbsp; Harley had so many opportunists show up to her apartment that had one motive or the next.&nbsp; Some attacked her, believing themselves worthy of some score to settle using her as a proxy.&nbsp; They were quick to realize the mistake they made.&nbsp; Then there were others who attempted to convince her of being owed by the Joker.&nbsp; They were quick to be ignored and shoved out the door.&nbsp; One of them though?&nbsp; One of them stuck out, delivered by the hand of a small child that didn't speak.&nbsp; It promised a fortune that would get Harley on her feet and beyond.&nbsp; She only hesitated because it wasn't the lifestyle she wanted to go back to.&nbsp; Killing <em>Mistah J</em> was the mark of transition, doubled by willing submission to the probing minds of fellow psychologists that were honestly sub-par.&nbsp; A theory of why criminals resorted to the activity they did was based on their living conditions.&nbsp; Here Harley was, placed in a run-down building infested with rats with bare minimum living comforts facing the steepest incline of obstacles one could imagine before scoring any opportunity of employment.&nbsp; It was so very tempting.<br><br>For now though, she had another day behind her.&nbsp; Rather than prolong the longevity of woe, Harley pushed it aside and turned to enjoying a midnight shower while a portable radio rest on the sink tuned into local radio.&nbsp; The liberating feel of warm water gliding down the skin and passing through blonde hair washed away the worry.&nbsp; She was none the wiser to an intruder sneaking his way into her apartment via window.&nbsp; &nbsp;By the time he was fully inside, Harley turned the water off and began to dry off.&nbsp; As she wrapped the towel around her tautly conditioned physique, the reflection in the mirror was studied passively.&nbsp; Long ago had the discolored blotches of ghostly pale cosmetics faded, letting fair and healthy skin reveal itself in contrast to vivid blue eyes.&nbsp; <em>'Lookin' good, Doctor Q,'</em> she thought, finding something else to smile about in light of the situation.&nbsp; Mid-thirties, still possessing a body most girls younger couldn't achieve and not one sign of age in sight.&nbsp; Truly,&nbsp; Harley was a blessed specimen of feminine appeal and shapely curve.<br><br>It came time to turn in for the night though, introducing another promising day in Gotham.&nbsp; Thus, Harley turned the stained, chromatic knob to the bathroom room and stepped through the opened portal into the apartment's foyer.&nbsp; The last thing she expected to see was a young man with short, ebony hair dressed in skin-tight spandex that left little to the imagination.&nbsp; Harley's facial expression shifted upon discovery,&nbsp; eyes widening in incredulous surprise with lifted brow and faintly agape mouth offering a teasing peek at pearly-whites.&nbsp; There was no blush hinting at embarassment to being discovered with moistened skin with but a towel guarding full-frontal nudity.&nbsp; It was bottom of priorities in this situation, honestly.&nbsp; Another intruder looking to settle a score, perhaps?&nbsp; Maybe.&nbsp; Even so, an intruder was an intruder and Harley shook off her dumbfounded stare.&nbsp; Her pose and stance quickly abandoned a flat-footed poise, braced and ready to react.<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<em>"Whoever ya' are, you picked the wrong broad's house to break into.&nbsp; Allow me to introduce ya' to my friend, Good Night!"</em> she shouted, pushing off her leading foot's toes in order to break into a sprint.<br><br>During the rushing approach, Harley's left hand wrapped around the ergonomic-grip of a baseball bat, quickly lifting it up over the right shoulder.&nbsp; Harley was more agile than the average person, granted by a still unknown factor that happened somewhere during her life.&nbsp; It made her deftly close the distance between her and this intruder.&nbsp; Right as she entered striking range, her body twisted to gain momentum and velocity into the impending swing of a baseball bat that was heavier than one would suspect.&nbsp; Then came the swing aimed at the intruder's head looking for a quick and simple concussion to leave him out cold.
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				Title: <strong>Re: DC Earth 2: Jokes On You (Warden, James, Dooms)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>JamesSureWould</strong> on <strong>11-12-2015, 06:13:20</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft">(http://40.media.tumblr.com/5f1df120007898710b6b00dab4bcd0a7/tumblr_ny4p03ZR7b1r69ioco1_500.png)</div><hr><strong>Name:</strong> Richard ‘Dick’ Grayson<br><strong>Nom de Guerre:</strong> Nightwing<br><strong>Affiliation:</strong> The Bat Family<br><strong>Time:</strong> July 17th 2015. 2330 hours<br><strong>Location:</strong> The Bowery<br><strong>Tagging:</strong> Harley Quinn, Jason Todd<br><hr><hr><strong>Summary: </strong> Dick barley dodges Harley's swing. Some flirting, some bantering, and a few strikes with his fighting sticks to get Harley exactly where he wants her and then to disarm her.<br><hr><hr><br>Dick managed to turn his head and pull it back just enough to feel the wind of the bat brush against his nose. ‘If that had hit me, I would be out cold right now’ Dick thought to himself, still in a slight amount of shock. Even after years of fighting her while Batman was busy with the Joker Dick was constantly astounded by just how strong she was. And her agility was nothing to sneeze at either. Not many people could cross the room quite that fast, or get the twist in the hips necessary for a swing like that in an instant.<em><br><br>‘Oh that’s just not fair. I have to work day and night to swing my escrima that fast. One vat of acid, and suddenly she can swing around that hunk of wood like it’s made of nothing’ </em>He silently vented while trying to put as much distance between himself and Harley as he could, cartwheeling his way across the room and back towards the window he’d come in through. As he moved, Dick had to purposefully avoid a few spot on the floor that looked like they’d collapse in if he put even a hair too much pressure on them.&nbsp; <br><br>As he came up from the tumbling and cartwheeling, a grin spread across Dick’s face though. He was falling back into the rhythm of things. It had been ingrained into him years before, the way that all of the old villains and their top lieutenants fought. Batman had drilled him on their various fighting styles for hours, and then seeing them in the field over and over again just worked to cement it in his memory. Once the memories started to come back and his muscle memory started to kick in, Dick felt the grin grow into a full smile. Now that the situation was no longer life and death, Dick could start to analyze the situation and think about what exactly his next move would be.<br><br>His attempt to analyze came apart slightly when he actually got a good look at Harley though. Somewhere between charging at him and taking her swing with the bat, the towel that had been wrapped around her still wet body had fallen to the floor. <br><br>Dick could only give a slow whistle of appreciation. Harley Quinn had alway looked good but now she seemed to be on another level. Her body had matured with age, giving her slightly more defined curves. He knew models that would have killed to get her hourglass figure, her slightly pouting breasts, or the beautiful curve of her hips. Some part of Dick almost wanted to ask her to turn around for him so that he could see her ass, but that seemed an inappropriate request to someone who had just tried to take his head off.<br><br>And the incredible paleness brought about thanks to a potent combination of toxic chemicals, second degree Joker Toxin, and an unhealthy amount of make up had gone the way of the dodo. While her skin was still paler than some goth kids he’d seen at the mall, it was healthier tone. He wasn’t concerned that she might be slowly dying of some poison like he had the last time he’d seen her. <br><br>Though, what really stuck Dick where her vibrant blue eyes. There was something in them that he couldn’t place his finger on. Maybe that’s what someone’s eyes looked like when they weren’t insane anymore? It was alluring if nothing else, and complimented every other facet of her gorgeous form.<br><em><br>‘I’m not gonna flirt with the villain, I’m not gonna flirt with the villain’ </em>Dick thought to himself over and over again, trying his best to stay in a professional mind set. If he wanted to take over for the big man, he’d have to start acting like it. Batman wouldn’t have commented on Harley’s state of undress, and he wasn’t going to either.<br><br>It wasn’t until he sprang forward from the corner of the room, Esrima drawn and ready to try and disarm Quinn so he could get some answers, that he reminded himself exactly who he was. He wasn’t Batman, or Batwoman, who would be all professional and stoic even though their libido would be doing back flips. He wasn’t Red Hood who would channel every emotion, even lust, into anger and rage. He wasn’t Spoiler, so inexperienced she’d stop and gawk at the naked woman. No, he was Nightwing. He was the performer of the family, the one to crack jokes and dance around. And he was also the one reviled in banter and flirting.<br><br>“Harley, I’m gonna be honest with you. You’re looking great.” He said as the first Escrima, the one he held in his left hand, swung through the air, crackling with electricity and coming for her stomach. It was a wide swing, and entirely telegraphed. A feint, designed to have her dodge out of the way and driver her towards a more desirable position.<br><br>“I mean, you’ve always looked good but now? Well knockout seems abit on the nose with the bat coming at my head, but it certainly applies” While he flirted, the Escrima in his right hand came swinging down towards the crook of her neck. It was a harder swing, and less telegraphed. If he remembered Harley's motions and her reaction times, then she’d probably use the bat to block his second swing and leave herself open.<br><br>“You do pilates? Hot Yoga? What is it?”<br><br>“Tell ya what, you tell me your secret, and I’ll let you know how I got an ass this nice.” And with that he brought the escrima in his left hand slashing towards her hand holding the bat. If he could only disarm her, maybe they could talk and he could get to the bottom of what exactly was happening with Harley Quinn.
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				Title: <strong>Re: DC Earth 2: Jokes On You (Warden, James, Dooms)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Diesel Heart</strong> on <strong>11-12-2015, 14:28:50</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft">(http://orig09.deviantart.net/2bf4/f/2015/208/8/0/harley_suicide_squad_by_abraaolucas-d933ife.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>&nbsp; Harleen Francis Quinzel&nbsp; |&nbsp; <strong>Moniker:</strong>&nbsp; Harley Quinn<br><strong>Affiliation:</strong>&nbsp; Unaffiliated&nbsp; |&nbsp; Formerly Suicide Squad<br><strong>Location:</strong>&nbsp; Harley's Apartment, Gotham;&nbsp; Bowery of Downtown<br><strong>Time:</strong>&nbsp; July 17th, 2015;&nbsp; 2230 Hours<br><strong>Speaking To:</strong>&nbsp; Nightwing<br><strong>Mentioning:</strong>&nbsp; <br><strong>Scene Music:</strong>&nbsp; Boy Epic - Scars (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RCRXobvs9_I)<br><hr><hr><strong>Summary:</strong>&nbsp; Harley analyzed Nightwing's assault without a care in the world about her full-frontal nudity.&nbsp; She demonstrates a heightened sense of tactical acumen compared to previous encounters but still comes up short when clumsiness loses her the fight.<br><hr><hr><br>&nbsp; <span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size"><strong>I</strong></span>n the mind's eye,&nbsp; Harley watched her baseball bat connect to the intruder's skull, delivering a satisfying noise.&nbsp; However, reality was much harsher as always.&nbsp; Instead of making impact, the bat swung freely and cut through the air with a near miss followed by its target cartwheeling backwards.&nbsp; It seemed this guy was a cut above those that came before as he was the first to dodge the swung bat.&nbsp; While it complicated things, she hoped the attack gave the intruder enough incentive to abandon the prospect.&nbsp; A hope that died quickly when Harley noted the grin and sprint forward.<br><br>It would have been nice to know the towel keeping modesty intact had fallen off already.&nbsp; Not for the sake of integrity but for using an advantage.&nbsp; Even Batman was a victim to appeal of women if her relationship with Selina said anything.&nbsp; There was no doubt in Harley's mind this seemingly younger guy was less mentally fortified so it would be an easier trap to use.&nbsp; Confirmation came from complimentary statements.&nbsp; The guy definition took notice which brought attention to the lost towel, lying in a heap behind her.&nbsp; It was unfortunately time however, since the telegraphed attacks removed the window of opportunity to utilize it properly.&nbsp; If Harley had such an opportunity, Nightwing's wish may be granted when she turned to retrieve the towel, bending over slowly with locked knees.&nbsp; Oh well.<br><br>Escrima Stick Uno, Shocky, emitted an electrical current while swinging for the lower abdomen.&nbsp; With Escrima Stick Dos, WhamBam, in the other hand, it was obvious this intruder would utilize them properly.&nbsp; It was only rational to suspect a chain of attacks, each properly placed to tear away at her defenses and gain an opening.&nbsp; With such an enclosed space being a factor too, being on the defensive was ill-advised.&nbsp; Like the others before him, this intruder was in for a rude awakening.&nbsp; None of them knew the assimilated tactics, knowledge and martial skill Harley developed during her time with the Squad.&nbsp; True enough, she was no veteran or savvy enough to contend with others.&nbsp; Against thugs and would-be assassins though?&nbsp; Easy pickings.<br><br>Staving off Shocky first, Harley released the baseball bat with the left hand and parried with the right.&nbsp; It was much easier to deflect with an wooden object since the&nbsp; material insulated electricity, thus removing the threat of being shocked.&nbsp; Part of her wanted to comment on the use of electricity with a pun but time was scarce.&nbsp; WhamBam was lifted above their heads and started its quick descent towards her upper body.&nbsp; She suspected it would hit a clavicle and bruise easily, mitigating some efficiency in lifting the bat properly.&nbsp; With the baseball bat used to parry Shocky, a second parry wasn't possible.&nbsp; Not with a weapon as heavy as Good Night! was.&nbsp; Her options were quickly reduced to dodge and thus she did.<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<em>"How 'bout ya' just leave and stop worrying about women too old for ya'!"</em> Harley replied, leaping back to avoid WhamBam's strike.&nbsp; <em>"WHA-...!?"</em><br><br>Of course.&nbsp; Nearly six years in a psychiatric prison was a guaranteed way to crumble down fighting skill and easily forget some of the basics.&nbsp; In this case, it was environmental awareness.&nbsp; When Harley lept back, her foot landed atop the towel and quickly slid forward, taking her balance and equilibrium with it.&nbsp; Gravity did it's job and ensured Harley hit the floor flat on her back with the baseball bat gently rolling away into the kitchen.<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<em>"Ow..."</em>
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				Title: <strong>Re: DC Earth 2: Jokes On You (Warden, James, Dooms)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Doomsday</strong> on <strong>15-12-2015, 02:15:56</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft">(http://i.imgur.com/NLAJf2w.png)</div><hr><strong>Name:</strong> Jason Todd<br><strong>Nom de Guerre:</strong> The Red Hood<br><strong>Affiliation:</strong> The Bat Family<br><strong>Time:</strong> Friday, July 17th, 2015, 11:30 P.M.<br><strong>Location:</strong> The Bowery, downtown &nbsp;(http://www.pictureshack.us/images/10161_gotham_map-GCS.PNG)Gotham<br><strong>Tagging:</strong> Dick Grayson | Nightwing, Harleen Quinzel | Harley Quinn<br><hr><hr><strong>Summary:</strong> Jason sees the action on his wristwatch, and spills a beer as he makes a hasty exit from the bar, departing on his motorcycle to Harley's apartment. Standing on the sidewalk outside, he is prepared to kill any who come out of her window, as he announces in a disguised voice to Harley's apartment that it would explode in ten seconds' time. <hr><hr><br>He knew Harley had been home; Monitoring her modest apartment from a device on his arm, Jason could hear her shower running. For a while there, he was suffering from a moral dilemma, to spy on the bathing madwoman or not. On one hand, who knew what she might have been up to? She was smart, and might have wizened up to the tiny cameras planted in her lights and appliances. But on the other hand, he would feel like scum for creeping on her. Jason considered himself a good, righteous person, and he kept telling himself that Bruce would at least leave Harley her modesty. <br><br>As soon as her neighbors were gone for the night, she'd have her modesty, a few less limbs, and a lot of porcelain shrapnel inside of her. The grandmother and her legal charges were out, and he could hear the other couple bickering about plans. Jason had put speakers into each of the apartments, just as small as the rest of his equipment, but they would be loud enough to be heard. He'd been considering trying to spook them off, or maybe even a dose of honesty would work, too. <em>Hey, you live next to a former mass murderer. If you don't beat it, don't be surprised when your walls slightly explode.</em> It wouldn't destroy the apartments on either side, but the chances of a casualty were too high for his conscience. <br><br>He'd been wrapped up in his thoughts that at first, he didn't notice a slinky, spandex-clad predator sneak in through Harley Quinn's window. It actually wasn't until he heard Harley growling at an apparent intruder that Jason's dull gaze was torn away from the bottles of booze lined up behind the bar. The sudden jerk of his arm caused his bottle of beer to spill. <strong>"God damnit. I'm sorry,"</strong> he apologized to the bartender, who gave him a disapproving look as she reached for a clean rag from under the bar. Jason Pulled a $50 out of his pocket and tossed it onto the pile of fizzing alcohol, a generous courtesy and a subtle <em>fuck you</em> all in one, as he walked out of the bar, eyes glued to his wrist as he approached his motorcycle that was lined up in a row with the rest of them, looking as beefy as the other Harley's without the skulls and American flags adorning the gas tanks.<br><br>Jason retrieved the signature Red Hood helmet from a saddle bag and put it on as he fired up the engine, and began down the block, able to better assess the situation from his HUD rather than his wristwatch. <strong>"Jesus, Dick, you're gonna ruin everything!"</strong> He cursed, his voice lost under the thunder of his engine. His words were not yet projected to the speakers in Harley Quinn's apartment, but soon, they would be.<br><br>Being so close to her building, Jason was only on the road for a minute, sitting impatiently at one light before coming to a stop on the opposite side of her street from the place. Jason knew which window he was looking for, glancing on high, wondering whether Dick had climbed up from the fire escape, or if he had came down from the roof. Or possibly, he had grapnel-hooked from across the way, and landed silent as a cat right outside of her window. Catching himself having a fond memory of Dick Grayson, Jay shook his head angrily, reminding himself that his 'brother' was spoiling his plot.<br><br>A second later, a voice rang out in Harley's apartment, a minimal echo buzzing from three separate speakers. <strong>"Attention, Nightwing. You have ten seconds to leave the building before it goes sky-high,"</strong> Red Hood announced in a heavily modulated, unrecognizable voice. He was fibbing, of course, but he wanted to put the fear of god into Dick, force him to make a tough decision between rescuing Harley and getting out with his own hide intact. If Harley came out that window with him... Jason would shoot to kill, regardless of if it left Nightwing in the crossfire.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: DC Earth 2: Jokes On You (Warden, James, Dooms)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>JamesSureWould</strong> on <strong>07-01-2016, 05:09:44</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://40.media.tumblr.com/5f1df120007898710b6b00dab4bcd0a7/tumblr_ny4p03ZR7b1r69ioco1_500.png)</div><hr><strong>Name:</strong> Richard ‘Dick’ Grayson<br><strong>Nom de Guerre:</strong> Nightwing<br><strong>Affiliation:</strong> The Bat Family<br><strong>Time:</strong> July 17th 2015. 2330 hours<br><strong>Location:</strong> The Bowery<br><strong>Tagging:</strong> Harley Quinn, Jason Todd<br><hr><hr><strong>Summary: </strong> Dick mentally compliments Harley's combat skills before she falls on her ass. He get her bat, banters abit and tries to remind her that he was Robin years back, before helping her back up and telling her why he came. <br>Dick figures out where the bomb is planted thanks to a gadget. He figures out that Red Hood probably planted the bomb thanks to deductive reasoning. Dick calls ups Hood to get an explanation, maybe some help. <br><hr><hr><br><em>‘Quinn went and got some skills’</em> Dick thought to himself when Harley blocked his first strike with the wooden bat. It wasn’t the move he’d expected her to make, and the fact that it was a wooden bat meant that she wouldn’t have to worry about and jolts of electricity zapping her. His momentary praise of her new-found combat abilities fell to the wayside when she jumped back to dodge his follow up strike, only to trip herself up on the cast aside towel and fall on her back. The fight seemignly over, and the comedic way that it had finished, seemed to defuse the adrenaline that had been pumping through him when Haryley swung her bat at his head. Hopefully it would do the same for Harley, let her see that he meant her no harm and that she shouldn't try to do him any harm.<br><br>“Too old for me? Harley, I’m honestly offended you don’t remember me. I know it’s been a while, and I’ve definitely grown up alot since the last time we tussled, but still. I like to think I’m a memorable person.” The former boy wonder said with a wide smile, walking into the kitchen to grab Harley’s baseball bat. <br><br>Walking back to her, Dick couldn’t help but refresh Harley’s memories of him as a young crime fighter. It would be a dark day for Dick Grayson-Wayne when someone admitted that they'd forgotten him. <br><br>“I’ll give you a hint; I was wearing red, green and yellow tights. I had a little cape on and some pixie boots. You tied me up all the time. Which, now that I’m thinking about it, was probably a formative experience for me” &nbsp;<br><br>Once he’d made it back to the former clown princess of crime, Nightwing offered her a hand back to her feet if she hadn’t already made it back up. <br><br>“Not that I mind the view, but you might want to put some clothes on. I’ve got some questions for you. I just want to see how you're holding up after getting out of Arkham, and get an idea how you're adjusting back to normal life.” He had just handed the bat back to her, a sign that he didn’t mean her any harm and just wanted to talk, when a booming voice seemed to come from all around the apartment and warned him that he had only a few seconds before the apartment would ‘go sky high’.<br><br>“Great, one more thing to deal with.” Dick muttered under his breath as his mind went overdrive trying to scan the area for any hint of an explosive device and figure out anything he could from the nondescript message that the bomber had given. It wasn’t the first time that he’d been threatened with an explosive, and he wouldn’t be living right if it was the last time, but that didn’t mean it was any less serious to Dick. He just felt more annoyed than terrified at this point. <br><br>A tap of his gauntlet, and an overlay sprung up onto the lenses of his domino mask. Suddenly the thermal reading for the entire room was laid bare before him. It wasn’t the most powerful thermal scanner that he could get, but he was still impressed it was as good as it was given how small he’d had to get it to make it fit in his mask. It wasn’t like he had all the space of Bruce’s cowl after all.<br><br>And besides, while it might not have been powerful enough to tell him how many warms bodies were in the apartment two rooms down, it was sensitive enough to see the things that really counted. Like the small heat signature underneath Harley’s stove signifying a bomb. It was smart; the gas line of the stove could give the bomb fuel and a possible ignition. And the source of the detonation would make an examiner think that it was just a faulty stove that caused the explosion. They’d label it a tragic accident. <br><br>The venn diagram of people who wanted Harley Quinn dead, were willing to give Nightwing a chance to live instead of viewing it as a ‘two for one special’, and knew enough about demolitions to set up something like this was surprisingly small. Less than a dozen people in fact; and if he factored in how many were likely in Gotham, were still alive, and had the patience to set up the trap, it was a list of exactly one person. And it just so happened to be someone who he had a direct radio contact too. <br><br>“Hey Hood, I think I found one of your toys. It’s under the stove of one our mutual acquaintances. Now how could it have ever gotten there?” Dick said as nonchalantly as if he had found one of Jason’s roller skates, and not a bomb capable of taking Harley and he to an incendiary final resting spot. It didn’t hurt that he knew the bomb wasn’t attached to a timer; it was a detonator. As long as Red Hood kept his finger off the trigger, he and Harley were safe. And, much as he might pretend otherwise, Red Hood had moved past the ‘trying to kill other heroes’ section of his career. 
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		</dl>
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