black mask

Know that the mask destroys one identity while creating another. Know that the mask recreates its wearer. Know that... inhibitions die and the nature of the wearer is altered--so that deeper drives and more primitive instincts rise to the surface.

[romcnsionis-aftermatha]

Roman didn’t really like kids.  In his (admittedly limited) experience, they tended to be more astute than their grown-up counterparts, even if they weren’t quite experienced enough to put together the pieces of what the things they noticed meant.  

This little girl had been staring at him, and his false FBI agents milling about their van, for the last ten minutes, and Roman had had enough of it.  Time to get her out of here--his men were insisting that they weren’t doing anything with some little kid as a witness.  

Fine.  He’d deal with it.

“You need somethin’, kid?”  

@littleredscarlethood​

[romcnsionis-aftermatha]

Starter Call

Capping when I feel like it.  Probably 5 but who knows. 0/5

[romcnsionis-aftermatha]

deadbxrd‌:

         Ahh, that was refreshing. Not necessarily seeing him, he could live his second life never seeing Roman ever again, but the Gotham way of address. Street garbage knew street garbage, and Jason couldn’t say he may have smiled a little too nicely under the hood. That would inflate the boss’ already massive ego, couldn’t have that. “The Bat could care less if I lived or died.” Half true. “My whole career doesn’t rely on the old man, y’know. I have to look out for myself.”

         Making it about business was purely a social barrier. If they got any more friendly with their negotiations, well… he might become a sidekick again. Gross. Contracts were easier, much faster to fulfill than being some asshole’s errand boy. “I’m not here to play around much, Sionis,” The altered voice huffed, advancing closer with the drawn weapon. “You need me as much as I need you, so hand over your marks and we can forget our little altercation happened, yeah?” Jason would be surprised if he got off that easy. It wasn’t like most Gotham criminals to hand over anything without some kind of quid pro quo, and the mob was a business first and foremost. Even if they were Arkham bound, you had to play everything like you were making a deal.

“Sionis?  Oh, don’t tell me you went and got sour on me, princess,” Roman said, voice deceptively light as he thumbed the hammer of his SIG.  “You don’t think I’m gonna let one little fight get in the way of our relationship, do you?  Ye of little faith.”  It was always like this, with the Hood, business in the language of pleasure because they just couldn’t resist the game.  

But he had to say--he was still more than a little bit pissed off about their last little showdown in Gotham.  So as soon as Hood is in range, he has his own gun pressed to the man’s hip, just beneath where any bullet-proof vest should be ending.  He’s watched the man fight, watched him bleed before.  The returning press of the kid’s pistols to himself is expected.  Neither of them are gonna pull the trigger.  

It’s the choreography.  A show for the audience. And, Roman’s pretty damned sure, for Hood himself.

“I have missed havin’ you swingin’ around, keepin’ my boys on their toes.  ‘S good for keeping the general level of professionalism up, I gotta say.  But if I start givin’ you jobs again, princess, you can’t come blowing up my warehouses again.  This only works, doll, ‘s long as it’s mutually beneficial, y’see.  And you blowin’ up my warehouses back in Gotham wasn’t real beneficial.  I don’t mind you playing a bit rough, but if you fuck with business again, you might have to go the way of the little baby-Bats that came knockin’ around my organization.”  Stephanie had been oh-so-fun to toy with.  

“You play halfway nice, and I’ll give you all the blood you want.  Think you can manage that?”

[romcnsionis-aftermatha]

adarkknightrises‌:

Bruce had to hand it to whoever had done the work on ‘Richard’s’ face, you could barely even see the barely contained rage bubbling beneath the surface. He shouldn’t allow personal feelings the interfere in his work like this, but somewhere in his hollow, bat-shaped heart Bruce always found Black Mask’s outbursts and temper tantrums rather amusing”

“Aha, a I had a feeling you enjoyed using cliches just as much as I do, eh? Besides, I’ve never really identified with cats. Too….. anti-social, you know?”

Bruce stroked his chin, a smile that was only skin deep plastered across his face. “That’s pretty cool, it’s nice that even with your…… obvious life experience you’re still up for learning more.” He chuckled “Me personally, the only subject I have any passion for now that I’ve left school is biology.” He winked in a manner in-keeping with the personality of douchebag playboy he liked to present while in public.

“Me? I was hoping to run into an old family friend. We grew up in Gotham, but I heard he was living here now. Thought it would be cool to see him while I’m in town for business.” He met ‘Richard’s’ gaze. His mouth was smiling, but his eyes were not. “Hey, here’s a fun fact. He has the same initials as you. Weird coincidence, huh?”

Shooting Bruce Wayne in the face in the middle of New York City would undoubtedly get him arrested and thrown into the most secure prison law enforcement could find.  

He still considered whether it would be worth it for a long few seconds.

How he’d ever been jealous of this man as a child was beyond him--Wayne was the embodiment of the most grating features of all those faceless people his parents had spent their lives schmoozing.  The people who looked down their noses because he had never quite understood the way someone of his ‘station’ was supposed to talk, was supposed to act, was supposed to look.

It was no small pleasure to make a mockery of it all now, to slide into upper class gatherings with a fine suit and false niceties on his lips before he had everyone just where he needed them to be to drop that mask, to turn to the coarse Gotham drawl that so set everyone on edge.  

“’S’ is one of the most common last initials in the States, can’t be all that rare,” he shrugged, lifting his chin a bit, challenging Bruce to come out and say the accusation lurking under the surface if he wants to play ball.  “There’s a reason they use John Smith on all the example forms.  But, ya know, there’s something I think is just great about the 21st century, Mr. Wayne--we’ve all got these great little things called cell phones.  Maybe you should give your friend a call instead of trying to ‘run into him’ in the biggest city this side of the planet.”  He finally sat back in his seat, flexed his hand as he realized the muscles had grown sore from his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel.  

“It’s been great, but I really do have to run.  Good luck tracking down your friend, Mr. Wayne.”  

[romcnsionis-aftermatha]

kdxnvers‌:

Kara knew how to read a situation. She did, despite what some people might think. It wasn’t about any inability to tell when she shouldn’t stick her nose into something, but rather that she did it anyway. Perhaps it came with being made of steel. She so rarely had to think about the actual consequences, but…

There were definitely times when she should think about the consequences. All pretenses seemed to drop as she found herself flanked. Honestly flanked, may end up in some random guy’s van flanked. He wasn’t even trying to smile, and he pulled off the classic villain look well with features that didn’t quite fit and a haze of cigarette smoke drifting out of the window. She shifted on her feet and tried for nervous; a normal person would be nervous in a situation like this. It wasn’t too far of a reach.

“Oh! You have friends, yeah–” She stepped back as one stepped forward to lean against the car, smile silk hiding steel. One hand fumbled with the arm of her glasses, and maybe the game was up but she wasn’t about to give herself away quite that easily. “It’s Linda, actually. Environmental Sciences major, studying the benefits of green roofs. Not doll. And what do I call you?”

The girl was brave, he had to give her that--stupid, but brave.  The quick flicker of her eyes between him and his men, the small little half-step back, the sudden tightness to her smile:  all showed that she realized the danger of her situation.  She was outnumbered, flanked in against a van, between men who had been dancing around unfriendliness from the get-go.  

And yet she didn’t run.  Didn’t plead.  She corrected him and demanded his own name, and never let it be said that Roman couldn’t appreciate someone with a bit of fire.  

That didn’t mean she was going home.

“You don’t call me anything, yet,” Roman answered, deliberately twisting the question to evade an answer.  He flicked the end of his cigarette out the window, smiled. “Tell you what, Linda the environmental science major, why don’t you hop in, hm?  I’d love to hear more about green roofs.  I’ll drive you the rest of the way to wherever you were going--I insist.”

[romcnsionis-aftermatha]

mxrrormatch‌:

         “I look a bit young for everything.” Oh, here it went. “I was raised in opposition to my genetic counterpart, my growth process was slowed rather than sped up.” The fully matured mind sitting in a child’s body. It certainly didn’t get him much of anywhere. Just another blockade to force him to demand respect, he was nearly a god, after all. It’s why he shouldn’t bother himself with these petty humans, non-metas, besides throwing them into the ring…. Unless~

        “I happen to run a little get-together of powered and non-powered individuals~” He chuckled, looking back into the dark street from where he came. “I’ve read the files of this failed system your Earth’s Government has forced on those they deem ‘villainous’, and I thought I could come and help… ease some of that pent up aggression. I’m always looking for participants… or sponsors to help with the payments~” It was hard to skirt around the subject without overtly explaining anything. Who knew? Anyone could be part of the cherries n’ berries, people in the past were surprisingly good at faking things.

Roman doesn’t know what the hell went off the rails between now and a thousand years from now that convinced scientists that slowing down aging was a benefit for cloning as opposed to one of the most profitable potential business ventures on the planet, but if the kid--man, apparently--knows anything about the process, he can see him being very useful indeed.

And that’s without the business the boy is so carefully phrasing the ins and outs of.  “How generous of you,” he chuckled, turning over the possibilities in his mind.  “I think the two of us might be able to help each other, as it turns out.  I’m happy to get in on your gambling books.  But should you need it, I’m also very good at getting my hands on people who might otherwise be a bit tricky to snag, if you’re running short on competitors.”   

[ohivys-blog]

@romcnsionis​

It didn’t matter how bustling a city was, how overcrowded and packed in the daytime. There were always rows of innocent looking streets that found themselves deserted when the sun went down, corners and alleys and broken sidewalks where people lurked in the shadows. Places the police had all but abandoned, and only the most fearless (or crazy) heroes frequented. New York was like Gotham in that way. 

So Ivy didn’t think twice, once she made up her mind. She’d had a lousy, rotten week. And now, while she was out doing ARGUS’ dirty work for them, half a dozen heroes breathing down her back at every turn, some insignificant little man had thought to attack her. She’d gotten the information she needed from him, and now she was going to discard of him her way, and she was going to enjoy it, and she wasn’t going to ever go back. 

“I’m sorry, what was that?” she taunted, watching the wannabe thief turn an impressive shade of purple. My, how she’d missed this, the vines erupting from the asphalt and wrapping around her prey, squeezing and squeezing. Why had she ever stopped? “I can’t quite understand y-” 

She felt a shift in the air before she turned around. Her heart sunk but she kept her expression smooth. 

“Oh, don’t mind me,” she said, aloof. With a lazy wave of her hand, the vines dropped and the man went gasping to the ground. “I was just wrapping up.” 

[romcnsionis-aftermatha]

C.A.M.P. had sounded like a load of shit from the beginning, as far as Roman was concerned. He'd gotten an offer to be part of the program while he'd been in Arkham, had considered it for less than 6 hours before telling them to fuck off. The way he saw it, C.A.M.P. was worse than prison--you still had people controlling what you could and could not do, but this time, they weren't the easy-to-bribe idiots that served as guards but instead incorruptible heroes breathing down your neck at every move. Probably offering rousing speeches about the benefits of social responsibility. 

 No, thanks. 

 And it'd worked out, for him, hadn't it? Sure, he didn't have a clean slate, but that wasn't something of particular importance when he fully intended to keep doing exactly what he'd been doing under the radar. He'd gotten free eventually, that was the important bit. He'd heard that Ivy had snapped up the offer when it'd come her way, though, which was why he couldn't resist stopping to watch as he recognized that shock of red hair and familiar voice when he saw her strangling someone with her vines. Didn't seem much like C.A.M.P. protocol to him. "I see that." His gaze flicked between the man on the ground and back to Ivy, a smile playing at his lips. "Clearly not tight enough. He's going to go telling all his friends about this if you don't finish, so by all means, Ivy, don't stop on my account. I'm not in a rush."

[deadbxrd]

          No Gotham criminals going silent in his own turf had Jason so worried so much as that of Roman Sionis. It was less of a worry about what he was doing, it was more… lost contracts that he could totally pick up. Besides, how do you take down criminal undergrounds better than infiltration of rank? It was nice to get paid doing it too, even if he had a few watchful bat eyes judging his every move. He’d heard about the boss’ possible whereabouts from an anonymous tip, meaning he listened in on a few idiot hires who were speaking out loud about their jobs, and got to work searching for this semi-secret hidey-hole. He knew better than to start kicking over trash cans and shooting street signs, that would cause unwanted attentionp>

           Instead he severely concussed the two dudes hanging outside of the location he’d been given, barging in with a smirk under his titular helm.

          “Romaaaaaan, Daddy’s home!” Called the slightly modified voice. “Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving, honey-buns??”

                                                                                                                    [ @romcnsionis​ ] 

[romcnsionis-aftermatha]

Much as Batman and his little army of birds were terrifying pains in the ass, Roman had something of a fondness for the Hood. As Robin, he'd been an irritating little shit. As Red Hood, he was still an irritating little shit, but a much more business-minded one. And therefore much more useful-- and more fun.

Of course, the young man's unfortunate tendency to leave Roman's own men in various states of physical injury in the course of filling the contracts he tossed the man's way was a mild inconvenience, but Roman viewed it as a small price to pay for the brutal efficiency and creativity the men on his regular payroll frequently lacked.  Both qualities that he was beginning to miss--he’d been in New York for less than two weeks, now, and already he was dealing with the incompetence that so got on his nerves.  He couldn’t even kill the idiots yet, not while he was still establishing a foothold. 

The familiar voice ringing out through his warehouse earned a pleased chuckle--and a drawn gun to accompany it.  Roman turned to face the intruder, pistol held at his side but ready, should it be necessary.  “I knew you’d come lookin’, sweetheart.  You just can’t stay away.  And I’d say I’m happy to see you, but funny enough, I’ve heard some rumours that it ain’t just you who’s in town.  Don’t tell me you came hopping across the water to try and impress Bats and not for little old me.”

[adarkknightrises-blog]

romcnsionis‌:

The last thing he wanted to do was shake Wayne’s hand, but he took it for a brief shake anyway, smiling frostily.  “Richard Salvatore.”  The name came easy, familiar on his tongue from months in use.  Also familiar was the faint wave of disgust that rolled through him any time he used his father’s name.

There weren’t many people who Roman hated more than Bruce Wayne, but Richard Sionis could have given the man a run for his money.  Wayne was irritating because of the slathered-on charm that seemed to come so naturally to him.  Richard had been… not charming.

“I would think, Bruce, that the ladies love anywhere you take them.  As you can see, though, that’s not really something I’m worried about at the moment.”  There had been a time where he would have done just about anything to impress Circe, but those days were long behind him.  

All of the loathing that ‘Richard’ had for Bruce was conveyed in that brief, reluctant handshake. That suited Bruce fine: he hardly had a great deal of fondness for the man formerly known as Roman Sionis himself.

“Richard, huh?” Bruce held his gaze for a moment, before plastering a large smile across his face. “It’s a good name. My son’s name, actually. So I have a lot of good will attached to it.”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “What can I say, I guess I just make for charming company. And who can resist these baby blues, huh?” He gestured to his eyes. He leaned in closer, propping himself up on an elbow on the window’s frame. “Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. Though I can’t really make any assumptions based on the brief time our beautiful friendship has flourished, but a parked car outside a federal building isn’t exactly the ideal spot to meet the fairer sex. Or for doing much else, come to think of it.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Which piques my interest. You’ll have to forgive me if this is intrusive, but I’m a naturally curious person. What’s so interesting about this building?”  

[romcnsionis-aftermatha]

Christ above, if it didn’t grate every single one of his nerves to hear the man’s arrogance, his smooth confidence and faintly condescending tone, the comfort with which he leaned against the car.  The urge to introduce Wayne’s face to the business end of the SIG strapped to his side was nearly overpowering, but he managed to keep up the thin smile and occupy his hands by drumming his fingers against the steering wheel.  

"You know, they say curiosity killed the cat."

He fell back on the rehearsed lie, tone just barely above frigid. “I’m doing comparative architecture uptown at NYU.  Just needed to snap a couple of photos of bureaucratic buildings for the presentation.  This one was on my way. What are you doing in this area of town? Wouldn't think Bruce Wayne would bother leaving the business district.”  

[romcnsionis-aftermatha]

give ‘em hell, kid — what are your biggest fears?

Fear.  One of the few instinctual emotions--non-socialized, one of the handful of emotions that even psychopaths are capable of feeling on a bad day.  His favorite one to exploit, to draw out, to hear on the tongues of other people and see streaming down their face, cracking in their voice.  

Not one he experiences often himself.  One he’s made a point to experience as infrequently as possible since he was a child.  

He’d been afraid of his parents, for a long time, afraid of their critical stares, their beatings, their constant reminders of all the ways that he was inadequate--too ugly to represent their cosmetics business, too stupid.  Killing them had eliminated the stares, eliminated the threat, but the criticisms lingered.  

Thousands of dollars of plastic surgery hadn’t fixed it.  That clusterfuck with the cosmetics line certainly hadn’t helped.  Only the mask had shown him how absurd those fears of social judgement had been.  He was liberated.  They were trapped.  It was everyone else who needed to be freed.  

And he would do it.  Assuming that his body didn’t betray him first.  Batman--who he definitely isn’t scared of, no sir--had already made no bones about being willing to use his pacemaker against him if need be.  

“ My biggest fears?  I don’t have any.  I use others’ against them.”

[romcnsionis-aftermatha]

kdxnvers‌:

His smile shifted from pleasant to different in a moment. The situation seemed to shift right along with it. This wasn’t quite easy banter, it never really had been. He was a man hunched in a car with a camera, taking pictures of an official government building, and she was the girl blatantly calling him out on it. Kara had been under the assumption it was something petty, something easy, but she had a nagging feeling she’d stumbled upon something a little bigger.

Her hands twitched at her sides. Small, easy movements, and she reminded herself to keep smiling, don’t let the discomfort show. She’d learned some things, working for questionable government agencies: keep a straight face, footwork is just as important as flying, and don’t let them know when you’re off balance. They were important to remember. People tended to forget Kara was still Supergirl, underneath her glasses. She was still steel. Her own smile shifted, just slightly, something a little less like a hapless tourist.

“Right, silly me. Just know projects are usually helped by a closer look.” She tapped her temple, but her voice had lost some of the levity it had before. Her instincts were torn between getting out before anyone got hurt, and not leaving without getting something. There was more to the situation, and she needed something to come back to. “You know I don’t really go by sweetheart. I have a name.”

The girl’s expression shifted to match as his voice became slightly less friendly, becoming something cooler.  Something steely hidden under the sweet exterior.  

He’d always loved playing with the tough ones.  

He laid his arm across the car door, leaning in a bit closer to the girl.  The smile dropped entirely, camera forgotten in the passenger seat.  “Do you really?” he drawls, tone turning almost mocking.  “Mm, let me take a guess.  Is it Rumpelstiltskin?”  

Two of his men had made it onto this block, by now, and Roman sat back and pulled a cigarette from his jacket pocket, pressing it into the lighter in his car as they approached.  One leaned against the side of the van, the other circling to the girl’s other side, leaning down a bit to glance in at Roman.  “Everything alright?”

“Oh, yeah.  We were just having a friendly chat, weren’t we, doll?” he said, glancing at Kara.  “She was just about to tell me her name.”  

[romcnsionis-aftermatha]

mxrrormatch‌:

          Looking good wasn’t shit when you had a reputation to keep up. It was tradition to work in the opposite of what your rival was… he thought. Regardless, he was much more about function than fashion. Some freezer trying to get a rise out of him and make fun of his hyper-streamlined suit wasn’t going to cut it. “If you really have that many qualms with it, you can take it up with the United Planets. Oh wait!” Heavy sarcasm cut through the air, a dangerously soft smirk backing it up. 

          Glowing gold eyes looked down at the dark brown splotches, raising one hand to pick at the flakes. “Trying to run a business,” Thad sighed. “Some people just don’t understand what I’m offering.” Mostly those goody-two-shoes types that reminded him of too many familiar foes. Another absentminded slurp before he continued. “Some people don’t take my offers seriously, try to get a hit in.” And boy, didn’t that start something fun. 

Sarcastic little fucker.  Roman had half a mind to teach the kid something about respecting his elders.  Fortunately, he hadn’t gotten to where he was by simply caving to first instincts, and the blood-stained uniform, the uneven laugh, the sharp edge of the kid’s smile was enough to make him decide that the moment’s satisfaction was probably not worth it.  

Even so, that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy the mental image. 

"Business, huh?  Look a bit young to be running any sort of business,” Roman commented, sucking another breath full of smoke into his lungs.  “Gotta say, it makes me curious--just what sorta offers are you talking about?  One might say I’m looking to... ha.  Expand my horizons.”  Far too polite a phrase for the sorts of business Roman had his hands in.  

[romcnsionis-aftermatha]

evolvingeve‌:

Eve leaned forward eagerly. She did not understand the picture – a man walking into the building across the street through a side door did not strike her as immediately artistic or photogenic. But she was still struggling to understand Organic subjectivity when it came to matters such as this. She was good at gathering data, she was designed to process information. There were four Cadillacs on this street, she could count them, memorize their unique details, and then pull up the statistical analysis of such an anomalous event in seconds, but she could not interpret what it meant. Likely it meant nothing at all, and yet she had a feeling that an Organic would have seen wonder in the event that she could not quite grasp. 

“I suppose it does draw my eye to the man,” she noted, furrowing her brow in imitation of an Organic deep in thought. She even attempted to squint at the picture the way she had seen Organics do, but it did not help. “Yet, I do not quite understand why you would take a picture in this way.” She tilted her head at his last comments. The glare did not seem so bad to her, and yet, he was correct. He clearly saw something in the photograph that she did not, and perhaps that was a matter of perspective. 

“May I step into your car, or would that be rude?” she asked. Organics could be very sensitive about their belongings and dwellings, they put a great deal of importance on privacy. She could not deny the desire within her to understand, however. She wanted one day to take great pictures that would be pleasing to her friends, and this man with such an advanced camera surely had important insight to offer. “I only wish to understand the picture better, however, I do not wish to impose upon you. You have been very kind in showing me your photographs,” she said, smiling gently at him. “I am Eve Lavenza. What is your name?”

...What the actual fuck?

Christ above.  The girl was oblivious, utterly oblivious.  Absurdly so.  It was one thing to go up to him and ask a couple questions--that wasn’t the smartest, but it wasn’t out of the realm of reason, even in Gotham.  There would always be those rare few souls that didn’t seem to care much about toeing the line of danger.  

That wasn’t what this was.  This was her apparently being wholly unaware of any sense of danger at all, and not just being coaxed reluctantly, but asking to get into a stranger’s car.  He’d anticipated at least needing to give her a little nudge, but no.  

And, well, who was he to look a gift horse in the mouth?

“...Sure you can, doll.  Come around to other side, yeah?” he suggested as he unlocked the doors to the car.  “I’d be happy to teach you a thing or two.”  

[romcnsionis-aftermatha]

adarkknightrises‌:

Bruce held his up his hands apologetically, an easy smile thrown across his face.

“What can I say, I’m a big believer in ‘if it ain’t broke don’t fix it.” He leaned closer,  tapping his nose conspiratorially. “And between you and me, the ladies love it when you bring them up there.” 

With all the ways that the world was changing these days, it was almost comforting that the crime boss formerly known as Black Mask could still compete with Doomsday in terms of affable personality. He could change his face all he liked, but there was no surgery for being a miserable son of a bitch. And he’d clearly recognised Bruce.

“Please, call me Bruce.” He offered a hand, accompanied by a practiced grin. “But you have me at a disadvantage. What name does our friendly tourist go by?”

The last thing he wanted to do was shake Wayne’s hand, but he took it for a brief shake anyway, smiling frostily.  “Richard Salvatore.”  The name came easy, familiar on his tongue from months in use.  Also familiar was the faint wave of disgust that rolled through him any time he used his father’s name.

There weren’t many people who Roman hated more than Bruce Wayne, but Richard Sionis could have given the man a run for his money.  Wayne was irritating because of the slathered-on charm that seemed to come so naturally to him.  Richard had been... not charming.

“I would think, Bruce, that the ladies love anywhere you take them.  As you can see, though, that’s not really something I’m worried about at the moment.”  There had been a time where he would have done just about anything to impress Circe, but those days were long behind him.  

[romcnsionis-aftermatha]

mxrrormatch‌:

         A grunt came out of the dark speedster’s nose, rolling his eyes. Someone didn’t know how time travel worked. “Sure, you can say that.” He’d rather not have his guts fall out of his mouth from attempting to digest the solid food of this retro time, but how was he going to explain the whole literal test tube thing to someone who didn’t seem to care about the whole time traveling evil clone thing?

          … Though, that last thing made him laugh. It was boisterous, the ever-gentle touch of malevolence weaving into its tone. “Oh, that’s a name I haven’t heard in years! Or maybe… Maybe ever.” Fashion was dead, at least where he was from. Who had the time to waste money on designer clothes when they had no use besides aesthetic? “Ah, I never understood President Thawne’s obsession with old suits, but I suppose I have a reference now!”/p>

Old suits.  Yeah, if the kid wasn’t delusional, then the suit would be old, but still.  Rude.  “Yeah, from the looks of things, I’m guessing your designers ain’t too worried about looking good.” 

That’s a freaky fucking laugh to go with the whole look, too.  Light but cutting, unstable.  Definitely doesn’t sound like it should be coming out of someone who looks like they could still be in high school, ridiculous costume aside--in fact, it’s almost reminiscent of the clown back home.

Course, the Joker hadn’t scared him, and he damn well wasn’t afraid of some evil clone kid in neon drinking a goddamned slushie. Even if he was apparently not ill-inclined to violence.  Roman sucked in another lungful of smoke as he glanced up the alley before flicking his gaze back to the bloodstains on the kid’s suit.  “Picked a good spot to pull that number.  That what you’re doing all the way back in the good old third millenium, eh?  Keep someone from being born, or you just burnin’ off steam?”

[romcnsionis-aftermatha]

kdxnvers‌:

Kara may have believed him. The lie was smooth enough, the space between a solid answer and his cover story covering only as much time as it took him to snap three more photos. It was honestly a shame, because she would have loved to learn more about New York City’s buildings from someone who was passionate about them; books could only entertain her for so long. But she didn’t believe him at all.

She squinted at the building again, before looking back with a smile, rocking back on her heels. He’d lowered the camera, and his smile was charming enough. She could still play at curious, if she was careful enough.

“You think so?” It could, she had to agree. But the best cover stories made sense, right? A little bit of the truth, believable. “Hard to tell, when you’re taking pictures from your car. I’ve heard you get a better sense of a subject if you look at it from different angles. I’m sure the front door is great, but have you seen the eaves?”

He tilted his head, and his smile suddenly didn’t quite seem to fit his face the right way.  Seemed just slightly too tight in the wrong places, like an ill-fitting skin.  Which was, of course, exactly what it was.  The prosthetic was a damn expensive one, but there was only so much that could be done to fit over a wooden face, even with the highest end technology to try and replicate expressions.  The carved one beneath tended to get a little bit in the way.  

“ Well, I’m not a photography major, I’m an architecture major.  I was having a bit of trouble with lens glare, and I figured just a couple basic photos would do the trick just fine,” he said smoothly, expression dropping to something neutral, though his eyes hadn’t lost the calculating look they’d had since she’d approached the car.  A moment’s glance in the rearview mirror showed a couple of his men getting out of their car parked a street back.  

Clearly ready to intervene, if need be.  “Building’s a bit tall to see the eaves from down here anyway, sweetheart, unless you can fly.”  

[romcnsionis-aftermatha]

mxrrormatch‌:

          Oh grife. A wise guy. His face dropped back into something of annoyance, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “Be thankful,” Thad half-muttered. “This is about all I can stomach in this era.” Developing fully submerged in a growth chamber had some downfalls, like the inability to process solid food. This was made even worse from the very threadbare connection he still had with the Speed Force, using up too much energy just to make a city-long hike. 

          “Well, you’re in the right frame of mind,” He grunted. “Making you the smartest guy I’ve met all night.” Another long and drawn out swig. His tongue felt like it was going to be blue for days. “Clearly, you’ve never met my genetic originator, but I’m a Reverse… an Evil Clone, if you really wanna’ dumb it down. This costume is 31st Century fiber tech, but I don’t expect someone of… your stature to care that much about textiles.”

“ Artificially flavored ice?  Talk about a picky eater, kid,” Roman huffed, drawing another drag of nicotine into his lung.  He was a man of fine and diverse tastes, himself--the monotony of eating just one sort of meal every day would drive him mad.  

Well.  Madder.

He was increasingly of the opinion that it was the world that had gone bat-shit (and wasn’t that hilarious) though, given the sort of absurdity happening these days.  Aliens, superpowers--and apparently time travel, if the little technicolor brat in front of him was to be believed... wait a second.

“ Excuse me?  You wanna talk to me about textiles?  This is Giorgio Armani,” he snapped, waving down at his suit.  “Custom tailored.”  Disrespectful little shit.