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Post by purplepinay on Sept 22, 2024 17:24:26 GMT
Over the past months, reports of kidnappings have skyrocketed. children all over Gotham city have gone missing, and even more suspiciously, the children that have gone missing were teenagers who otherwise haven't had any record of delinquency. They were all model teenagers, top grades, best athletes, children who had their lives looking up for them. There was no rhyme or reason for these kidnappings to have even occurred or would have thought to have been connected in the slightest if it wasn't for the fact that, when the parent had discovered the teen removed from the room, they all found a piece of cloth. black, red, red and black. solid, checkered, striped. caught in the windowsill, found under the pillowcase, caught in the dresser, other similarly odd places. diagnostics ran on these pieces of cloth would show that they all came from the same fabric. as if it was a calling card, taunting whoever would be doing the detective work behind these crimes as aside from these fabrics, there was no other evidence left behind and the fabrics themselves would be free from any type of DNA that could tie them to anyone in particular. What anyone wanted to do with these seemingly average kids was a mystery, or where they might be bringing them, to begin with. all that was known was that these kids needed to be found, and found fast before whatever nefarious force that had gotten them did whatever it was that they were planning on doing with them.
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Post by lvsphinx on Sept 27, 2024 1:06:13 GMT
Gotham City, both an end and a beginning. The city was an end because this was where Jacqueline Ducard's, a missing metahuman vigilante, trail went cold. Therefore, Gotham would be the beginning of certain scientist's investigations.
Here enters Terry Ducard, age 28, husband of the missing vigilante Jacqueline Ducard, now on his fifth week of sabbatical from his workplace, the Institute. Even though Terry had taken a vacation because of his wife's disappearance in order to grieve, he was still not the same at work after he returned, and after only two months of working, he asked to go on a year-long sabbatical, a request his superior reluctantly granted.
Terry simply couldn't accept that his wife just disappeared and was perhaps dead, without putting up any resistance. He didn't know where she had gone, the woman having vanished without leaving so much as a clue, but Terry did know what his wife was looking into before she disappeared: the criminal underworld of Gotham. He didn't know why, but since Jacqueline was the type to follow her work, Terry figured Gotham would be a good place to start.
Terry rented out a cheap motel room on the outskirts of the city, to keep him away from the hustle, bustle, and overall negative atmosphere of Gotham itself. Inside, a large pinboard was on the wall where the TV used to be, set up by the room's current resident. On the pinboard were article clippings of news reports organized under pictures of different people, all of them recognizable as villains who had terrorized the city before. There was one unorganized clipping of the report of missing minors all throughout Gotham, unorganized because it wasn't certain which villain was behind these disappearances, though the calling card cloths gave Terry a few guesses.
Tonight, however, Terry wasn't in his motel room musing over the news and speculating over mere reports. Instead, he was in downtown Gotham doing his own investigations, standing in a nondescript alley, waiting for a drug dealer to appear. Terry had made an arrangement earlier, with a contact he made on the dark web, to meet and purchase a dose of the very rare but infamous Joker Venom, a Gotham specialty. He pulled his coat tighter around him as the wind whipped up while he waited, shivering slightly in the cold, a light drizzle sprinkling down from the dark sky above.
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Post by purplepinay on Oct 31, 2024 0:54:11 GMT
Within the shadows, following the scientist seemingly every move was... a being of a sort. It would be hard to make out, if he noticed her at all, stalking him like prey in her city. She studied his every movement, traced his every step. she was there from the beginning of his venture into the city.
It would have been an eerie essence, a feeling that he was being watched like a hawk. She didn't keep tabs on every one who purchased her venom but this one was peculiar. not her typical customer. it made her wonder, what kind of stressors did this particular customer experience? what was his motive behind the purchase? It was intriguing, he seemed to avoid the worst parts of the city but here he was, mingling with quite possibly the worst of the worst.
then again, it was a commodity that only she had a handle on. the drug dealer that he had contacted would seemingly take his time meeting up with him and by then, any feeling that he was being watched would disappear, and any trace that anyone was following him would be gone. the transaction itself would be quick, barely a word of exchange between him and the dealer. the money was received, counted and then the product was dispersed and then, in a poof of smoke, he disappeared. possibly slithered into the shadows. it didn't matter, the product was his now and all he had left to do was enjoy it if that were his intention.
either way, as he made his way back into his room, he would find his work slightly disturbed, window open which was strange. as it was certain to have been left closed before. other than that, though nothing else seemed to be out of place but that feeling... it would return. but, no one was there. no one but him and his own thoughts just like how he left the room to begin with. at least, that would be the logical conclusion one would come to.
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Post by lvsphinx on Nov 7, 2024 22:56:35 GMT
Terry had spent a month in Gotham by now, and had gotten used to the unsettling and unusual feeling of being watched. At this point, his hypothesis was that it was something in the water or air that was responsible for this low-level constant paranoia. At least, he hoped it was just paranoia. He had no hard evidence that he was being watched, only a feeling, yet the feeling alone was enough to keep him up late at night.
Terry had been steeling himself for the moment of the meeting with the dealer, unsure what to expect but certain in what he wanted to do. Terry made the transaction efficiently with little small talk, yet after he pocketed the Joker Venom and turned to capture the dealer in a bubble, the dealer had already vanished in a poof of smoke, a moment before Terry would've conjured the bubble.
An animating sense of irritation hit Terry in that moment. The plan was to capture the dealer and interrogate him, find out more about the supply chain and move up the line until he could speak to someone who gave orders. But the dealer's vanishing act prevented that, leaving Terry with an expensive but useless vial of Joker Venom. What he would do with it, he had no earthly idea. He didn't even see the dealer drive off, if he drove at all, preventing Terry from tailing him back to wherever.
When he returned to his motel room, he was hit with paranoia again, immediately noticing any disturbances to his intricate layout of connections, news reports, and clues, even if it was just an article shifted out of place. He was certain that he had left the windows closed, and his door locked. Expecting any would-be intruder to have left behind more clues of their entry, Terry immediately started searching his room thoroughly for anything that might've not been there before, like a surveillance bug or calling card.
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