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Post by Jonathan Crane on Jun 7, 2011 21:33:13 GMT -5
Crane Got Side tracked by himself on what Was supposed to be the way back to his apartment, But he found after Entering his apartment that Things were Well Very dull. He had nothing to Grade, no lectures to prepare. So his Feet Carried him to his bedroom as he changed out of his Suit and into a more appropriate set of clothes.
He Was standing in front of the Mirror in his apartment bathroom, as he finished wrapping his hands and the upper part of his torso with compression tape, This was merely a precaution seeing how most of the figures in gotham that found him were more than capable of breaking his Ribs which happened more than once a month on a regular basis.
He Looked up at his face. His Features were Gaunt, Pale, He looked like Death warmed over. He couldn't remember the Last time he ate any thing. He knew that He had a cup of coffee this morning at work. that seemed to be the only thing he had been having all week.
He was so Wrapped up in living two lives that his body Was beginning to shut down on him. not that he cared, He was always able to make it do what he wanted it to do.
Mind over the body, but this was no way to live and Jonathan knew that.
He pulled his new mask over his head, It was more than likely going to work out for him. The burlap felt coarse against his skin. Crane had become accustomed to it over the past weeks of wearing it to snatch unsuspecting civilians from the street to use as a sorta trial an error for his marvelous toxin.
The Scarecrow pulled his brown leather pointed hat up on his head. The brim hid the top part of his mask in dark shadow, only his dark brown eyes pierced through the darkness it created. He moved out of the Apartment Window and Begin his run to the abandoned building he called his own.
Once he Arrived he flipped the panels in the basement labs flooding the room with an Erie orange glow. The thin figure of the Scarecrow Moved easily across the dingy tile of the floor. he had work to or That what he had told himself, but there was really nothing to do, the toxin was finished and more than enough for a good few months, if nothing was wrong with it.
The Pumpkins Were Still just Tiny things, they had time to grow.
"well this is unexpected" he said to the incoherent subject on the table, as he scratched his temple through the material of his mask. " its going to be a slow night".
Crane grabbed the subject by the throat to hold his face still as he picked up a needle from the table behind him and stabbed the man Straight in the cornea of his eye. "Are we going to wake up now?" He asked in a hoarse tone.
There was a lack of response from the man,
"Apparently not.."
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Post by Pamela Isley on Jun 17, 2011 1:54:23 GMT -5
Pamela Isley is unhappy with her life. Though it's hard is for her to figure out why. She's managed to get everything she could want: the attention of any man she wants, her parents permanently out of her life, their money to spend as she pleases, an easy job to keep that money coming, a degree with high honors in her chosen field. She doesn't even have to be concerned with her health anymore. But there's something missing. She's restless.
Stewing about this, she finds herself leaving her lab and deciding to go for a drive. Maybe she'll go shopping. Only she doesn't ended up doing that - instead she drives her red convertible around aimlessly for awhile, not paying any particular attention to where she's going. But after awhile, simply driving isn't enough. She pulls over, not caring where she's ended up, simply getting out, locking her car, and switching to walking aimlessly instead.
That proves to be an improvement, as the extra effort of moving her feet at least gives her the feeling of movement and she has to pay more attention to her surroundings. And being out in the open air feels more satisfying than being cooped up in her lab or her car. Not that the air in Gotham is anything to speak positively about. Does any company follow EPA regulations around here? Not that those are nearly strict enough, but that would be a start.
This time she does pay some attention to where she's going, but mostly so that she'll be able to find her way back to her car. This isn't a part of Gotham that she's very familiar with, given the circles she frequents. But she doesn't let her surroundings bother her much - since waking up from the hospital she's had a certain sense of self-confidence that extends even to walking the sidewalks of Gotham alone at this hour. Of course, what she carries in her purse probably helps.
She doesn't pay any particular attention to the abandoned warehouse coming up to one side of the sidewalk that she's now following, lost in thought.
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Post by Jonathan Crane on Jun 18, 2011 13:12:21 GMT -5
Crane was every ounce of aggravated with the results of this experiment. It was a possibility that several things were flawed. The toxin may have been too high of a dosage, or something with its chemical make up just wasn't right. Something may not have bonded at the right point in time in its creation process. He leaned over an waved a hand in front of the face of the unresponsive test subject.
Nothing.
No response, no pupil dilation at the sudden change in the light, the eye did not track the movement of the hand as it crossed before it. Crane watched the subject for a moment, he was still very much alive. Maybe it just needed time to disperse through the blood stream, Maybe the toxin had been too strong for the dosage. It was all trial an error this early on in the game.
Jonathan would give it time, not only that but he was severely frustrated at this point of the effects. It had possibly rendered the mind into a catatonic state, maybe it was temporary.
The Scarecrow mused all of these thoughts an more as he walked from the room he had set up as his lab an towards the back exit, maybe he just needed some air.
He took the hat from his head, soon to be followed by the mask an dropped them both on top of a large wooden crate that was against the wall by the door. Crane ran his long fingers through his slightly sweat dampened hair before he opened the door. The smog heavy air was a slight improvement from the stagnate air in the warehouse.
He closed the door behind him as he sat down on the stone that was the step up into the back of the seemingly abandoned building. Crane leaned back against it to watch the Gotham skyline. The tops of the building an the clouds swirl overhead like smoke. Maybe it was smoke, one could never tell in this city.
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Post by Pamela Isley on Jun 18, 2011 15:35:41 GMT -5
The sound of someone moving around catches Pamela's attention as she nears the warehouse, and she pauses in her steps when she spots a man exiting the building. Normally, she'd just keep walking, but there's something about him that rings familiar. Not that she's ever laid eyes on him in her life, she's sure, but she's met the likes of him before and that is noted on an unconscious level at least. Which means that she already doesn't like him very much. But then, that could also be simply because he's a man.
But then, she certainly hasn't let the recent advent of her dislike for men stop her from doing much of anything. On a whim, she turns and starts walking toward him, commenting, "This is a strange place for anyone to be." Like she's one to talk; from her stilettos to her long dress coat to her jewelry, anyone who recognizes brands could tell you that she'd have to be rich to afford what she's wearing. And anyone who doesn't would still say that she'd look more in place on a runway than here. But Pamela's quickly become accustomed to dress in such a way to intentionally outshine any woman who merely pretends to have money - any single young socialite who can does.
But, then again, she never was an ordinary socialite. At first it was because she was so horribly withdrawn. And now... now there's probably nothing ordinary about her beyond what she pretends to be. Even she doesn't know what 'normal' means for her anymore. It certainly isn't the life she's currently leading - if it were she wouldn't be so dissatisfied with it that she'd end up wandering the streets of Gotham. For all she knows talking to strangers under these circumstances is normal for her now. Unlikely, but for the moment she sees no reason to not follow the odd impulse.
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Post by Jonathan Crane on Jun 18, 2011 23:33:13 GMT -5
Jonathan Looked over at her, she surely didn't look like anyone that belonged on this side of the tracks sorta speak. He blinked away the spots left from staring at the sky. He knew that he had never laid eyes on her before. Nor cared of her apparent need for status approval, or so he gathered from her appearance.
If anything he could lower any if all suspecting of his reasons for being in such a place. not to say that his attire wasn't much of the common as well. "Like wise" Why was she even speaking to a stranger. Was she like him an just out to clear her head? He folded his arms over the the jacket he wore.
Black in color but the center around the length of the zipper was white an had four buckles that ran across the front. Crane wore the sleeves folded up to just above his elbows.
It was just as out of place as her dress an heels.
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Post by Pamela Isley on Jun 19, 2011 2:40:51 GMT -5
Slowing to a stop while she's still several yards away, Pamela smirks at his reply as her eyes drift first over him and then over the rest of the area. "Well, I'm a strange person," she says offhandedly when her attention drifts back, that ready smirk still on her face. She certainly can't claim to be normal now - not when drinking poison is actually somewhat good for her.
And especially not now that she's made pheromones a natural part of her - not that they work at this distance. But they and her appearance are not a plea for approval but attention - something even a man like Jonathan can't help but give her anymore. She's always had attractive features, but now instead of hiding them she's happy to put them on display simply because of that look men get on their face when she comes into view. Being beautiful is like having a superpower.
"And perhaps the best place to rethink your life is as far away from the old one as possible," she adds as she spares another glance around herself. And winding up somewhere like this really is about as away as she could get. The old her would never have come here; it would have required her to leave the comfort of familiar surroundings, her parents would have objected, and she would have opted for a nicer-looking place to pull over. If she'd felt that uncomfortable feeling of an incomplete life she would have ignored it and found some goal to keep her occupied instead of wandering through Gotham.
And the woman she was before Dr. Woodrue's experiments would be jumping at shadows and noises if she were here right now. And certainly wouldn't approach, let alone talk to, a stranger. But the Pamela Isley standing here now is not the same one she used to be - in several different ways. And that change has made her practically fearless when compared to who she was before. Not that she's unaware of what risks there are to be found in a situation like this one, but because she's fully confident - to the point of arrogance - in her ability to handle whatever may come her way.
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Post by Jonathan Crane on Jun 19, 2011 19:47:15 GMT -5
"Normality an strangeness are just in the eye of the beholder" Crane commented philosophically tapping the side of his head with the tip of his finger. His attention was turned back to the sky line, he wasn't like most men an attracted just by a pretty face. It had already fooled him before, an he paid the price for it.
His work, his obsession was all that he had after that. Revenge by humiliation, humiliation by fear. Because controlling fear meant controlling the masses, it gave him power over his tormentors, taking their power.
Jonathan nodded agreeing with her next statement, he was all too terribly haunted by his past. In his dreams, his nightmares, whenever he closed his eyes. So many nights did he wake in a fit of Terror an immediately start working on his theories. It was a bit ironic that what had once controlled him was now his own means of taking revenge.
An then the fascination of it set in. It was no longer a want but a need to cause it. An now it was the thing responsible for the frustrations that was plaguing his mind. It was a crutch now, His wants, his needs, his failures, his headaches.
[tag Shade}
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Post by Richard Swift on Jun 20, 2011 21:26:31 GMT -5
Upon meeting Hawkgirl and The Geen Lateran, Richard Swift knew that he had need for allies. He observed the news reports and media, taking notes of all the so called 'Heroes' world wide. The Shade examined the reports of their abilities and heroic actions. He was preparing for a 'joust' of mass proportions. He excepted people to die and darkness to increased in the world. This however didn't bother him at all. The outcome and desired results where his only concern. He wanted to push this world into a new age.
The first step was to bring together a group of allies, a secret society of sorts. He traveled the world and watched eligible candidates while completely hidden in the shadows. While in Gotham, he became aware of Johnathan Crane. On a whim he monitored the man's actions, and became aware of the man's experiments and double life. His first two observations of the man were covert operations, and went completely unnoticed. After thinking about the potential and research of Crane, he made his decision.
With the use of teleportation, The Shade managed to arrive at Gotham in seconds by entering into the dark zone and then coming back out at his destination. He arrived at an old warehouse for the recruitment of Johnathan Crane. The psychology PhD was there, underneath a brown mask, experimenting on a live subject. Richard only observed from the shadows as the man's experimentation didn't go as wanted. Even with the failure, Richard still saw the potential he desired.
As Crane exited the building, The Shade followed. He was about to approached the man, however he fell back into the shadows as a red haired women showed up and engaged Crane in conversation. Upon seeing a opening, The Shade came forth from the shadows. He tried to make it seem as if he was walking from the opposite direction that the red-haired women had come from. Dressed in an all black Hugo Boss suit, he approached the two and turned to face the Gotham skyline.
“I must say, I love Gotham at night. The darkness is unrivaled. Most people despises the darkness, but personally I adore it.” He paused for a movement as he moved in closer to Crane and the red-haired women. His eyes stayed locked on the skyline. “Yes, normality and strangeness are truly in the eyes of the beholder.”
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Post by Pamela Isley on Jun 20, 2011 22:32:33 GMT -5
Pamela is not terribly haunted by her own past, one very terrible and recent experience aside, but she's still resolutely walking away from it. She feels no need to lash out at anyone, but she does feel the need to change her life as fully and completely on the outside as it was on the inside. The only question she has is what, exactly that means. And it's the unconscious mulling over of that which brings her here.
Out of the corner of her eye, Pamela catches a hint of movement only to turn and see a man approaching seemingly from out of nowhere. Strange, wouldn't she have seen him before that? Nah, her mind must be playing tricks on her. Still, it seems that two seemingly out-of-place people have now become three. She smirks, wondering idly to herself whether she should do this more often. They're already less annoying than the millionaire bachelors she spends so much time with, even if they are men. Then again, millionaire bachelors do have their uses - it's so easy to convince them to part with their money in her behalf - whereas these men... well, she's sure they're useful somehow but that's not readily apparent.
Hearing the newcomer's words, a smile crosses her face and she comments, "The only people who despise the darkness are those who fear it." And Pamela doesn't, not anymore. "Those who adore it are the ones they fear," she adds, giving the new arrival a knowing smile. Anyone prone to being distracted by her beauty tends to assume that Pamela is proportionally unintelligent. That's simply not the case. The first man is here because for whatever reason he means to be here. She's here more or less at random. But this newcomer is here on purpose, and she recognizes that instantly.
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Post by Jonathan Crane on Jun 20, 2011 23:18:10 GMT -5
Jonathan wasn't exactly sure what to make of the new comer, of course every one had a purpose for being somewhere. Wither it was to get away from something or not it still gave it purpose. Random to Crane was a myth like the happily ever after ending to a fairy tale which only happened after a more modern society got hold of them.
Ruining a good thing yet again.
"I must say I seem under dressed for this occasion now." He stated a bit of blunt sarcasm after realizing that he was indeed the odd man out like always. "the lady is right, It all comes back to fearing the unknown an in darkness that is endless. A curled finger beckoning the Brave or the curious. causing others to flee in fright." the Scarecrow said almost reveling in the true nature of it all. It always came back to fear with him, at least this time he didn't bring it up.
Such company of any kind was a strange occurrence for Crane. He was ever use to being such a solitary thing of his own free will or at the will of others. Though he felt almost at ease with the two other figures in the pervading darkness.
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Post by Richard Swift on Jun 21, 2011 5:41:20 GMT -5
Richard was amazed by the elegance of the woman's words. Slowly he turned his attention towards her with a smirk on his face. He may of came to Gotham for Crane, however the woman had stolen his attention. The amazing dress, the confidence, the elegance, and most importantly the intelligence. Richard was a man of class, and he could recognize a person of intelligence from their speech. To top this off, she was out alone at night in a obviously dangerous part of town, her bravery was also noticed by Richard.
As he analyzed Crane's words, he only nodded. He had become accustomed to the man's way of thinking. Richard had befriended many men of intelligence in his lifetime, and Crane reminded Richard of many old friends, now dead and buried. He knew there was a mastermind waiting to explode from within. If Richard had it his way, he would help the true Crane come forth.
As both parties had finished speaking, The Shade took his eyes off of the skyline and onto them. With poise he moved in closer to the duo. While inches away from Crane he spoke “I believe that soon enough attire and money will be worries of the past for you, Mr.Crane.” He only said the name loud enough for Johnathan to hear.
Richard then shifted his attention to the woman and continued “How rude of me to not introduce myself to the two of you. I'm Black, James Black.” He gave a partial bow to the woman as the words rolled off of his tongue. Slowly he moved closer to the woman and said “I know who the gentleman is, whether he realizes it or not. But you, I am not familiar with. Something is telling me that is my lose and not yours. May I ask your name madam?”
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Post by Pamela Isley on Jun 21, 2011 7:26:30 GMT -5
Pamela gives the first man a glance when he speaks, her smile fading slightly. Didn't she just say that? And much more eloquently? But she's easily distracted from that small annoyance by the other man. At least he's giving her more than a small amount of the attention she craves and so obviously deserves.
And his words seem to confirm what she suspected and then some: this is a man who believes himself powerful. How much of that is truth and how much of it is ego is something she's yet to see, but until she does she'll assume that he has a healthy amount of both. And as uncertain as she is about her life at the moment, she's sure of one thing: she likes power. It's the force behind her need for attention. Why she likes it and what to do with it are questions that she's still trying to answer. But she already knows how to get it.
Politely extending her hand as he comes closer to her, her smile returns to full strength and she's obviously pleased by his flattering words. Though a part of the smile is because she wonders just how much more of his interest she'll get when he breaches the invisible limit of the pheromones that surround her at about arm's length. "You may ask, but I might not say. You may call me Poison Ivy," she answers, her voice gently teasing, "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Black."
She doesn't give her real name for two reasons: first, as hinted by the way she says it, she's testing him. If he's really worth her attention and the amount of trouble she assumes he represents, he'll be able to discover her real name himself now that he's aware of her existence and he'll be willing go to the trouble of doing so. If he's lacking in either skill or drive, then it's better if he doesn't know who she is.
The second reason she doesn't give her name is because the other man is still more of an unknown to her and he's within earshot. He too doesn't get a free pass into looking her up; it's only sensible when you have an untarnished reputation in high society to maintain to avoid handing out your name to people you meet behind abandoned warehouses like it's candy.
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Post by Jonathan Crane on Jun 21, 2011 15:46:28 GMT -5
Like he had thought before, Crane knew this was possibly more than a social call to a stranger just on a whim. He knew very little about either of them, but with each word volumes were spoken. It was a bit of a second nature for him to analyze the people around him.
However his thought process was slightly derailed when the man who had introduced himself as a one James Black, Knew his name. Crane had not given it. How had this man possibly known his name? Had he been following him? It wasn't remotely possible. Crane was ever so careful not to leave a trail. He had not been tailed he had he? Part of him wanted to at least retrieve the possibly botched batch of toxin in the warehouse. The other half decided differently though.
So this sent a bit of a red flag up for him, but there was no need to act suspicious yet. He would once more conclusive evidence had prevented itself. Though if only such promises of money were guaranteed an solved as easily as words were spoken.
Jonathan stood, feeling only the slightest bit venerable sitting on the step to the door. He continued to watch the interaction between the other two, the lady now revealing a clear pseudonym of 'Poison Ivy' more than likely implying that she was capable or thought she was capable of the deadly beauty so common in plant life.
He could only agree with part of that assumption though, She was beautiful. Jonathan was not sure If he should even give a name be it false or true at this point. If the other had given one as well then what was the logical point of saying it?
Crane would remain silent for now.
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