Post by scallop on Sept 21, 2024 12:56:11 GMT
It had been one of those days. These days were getting more and more common for the average Brockton Bay 24 hours.Constant noise, constant moving, ain't no time to take a moment, you feel like your head is getting thrust through a window again, again and again. of course, only the finest of the criminal class could find a way to wind down in this run down dump of a place. And what finer criminal could one ask for, than the notorious Shocker.
Herman gently strolled into the Rogues bar, the smell of his cheat day cigarette hanging on his clothes, which right now consisted of the Shocker Armour, minus the helmet, which was currently tucked under his shoulder, a face much more famous than his own mug. A deep exhale escaped the man, as his eyes fell down upon their little hideout. It was nice, little slice they could call home, little slice the Cabal did't have their grubby little hands on. Almost like they were kings of their own kingdom.
Hell, he knew if he was a bit brighter, he could write a poem or something about this.
But words, deliberation, analysis, weren't really his wheelhouse. he was more suited for his placement in the world. He slid behind the bar, poured himself a high ball and mixed it gently as he looked around. He wasn't mad at his lot in life, least he had one. And after all, as they grew, the folks upstairs were starting to fear the Shocker.
"Anyone know if Snart's kicking about? I got a hell of a headache and need some ice for it"
