#fenceposterror

[waywardacrobat]

+ fenceposterror

[ 3:05 am; sms; ] hey timmy, are you awake i've got something important to tell you

[imjustlikemyfather]

Flashback | Taceant Colloquia | Barton + Tim

He felt very uncomfortable here- had to hold back every last fiber within him to not turn around. Had to fight every instinct his body had to let his hair rise like hackles- this was where the enemy spend most of his time. The one who almost ruined his life- but he wasn't ready for that. Not yet at least.

Gather what you can, Barton.

Quick measured steps- attention on the first person to make eye contact with him. He halts- adjusting his jacket; face an unreadable mask- perhaps the face of someone who is looking to get things done quickly.

"Excuse me," he didn't leave a moment to reject the inquiry. Work fast. Be confident. "I'm from Arkham- we recently had a new resident sent in with regards from the precinct... and I've been told by my superiors that we hadn't received all the paperwork necessary to begin treatment- and as I'm going to be his physician- it would be in my best interests to retrieve whatever I can."

His head tilted slightly.

"Could I bother for a moment of your time?"

[thewhysarewise]

He's not in the habit of making spontaneous phone calls, but he feels this is a necessary one.

           "Tim? Yes--hi. Happy birthday."

[slipyouasmile-blog]

Run, Little Rabbit, Run || Joker + Tim

“Y’know, I warned him….that this would happen?” he waggled the knife like a scolding index finger. “Now, I know what you’re thinkin’....killing a paraplegic is a pretty low blow. Alright, yeah--”

He giggled, opening his arms wide as the pretty lady tried to crawl towards the door.  “I admit it. Was kinda funny watching him try to crawl away, though.”

She got to her feet, as if he wasn't still watching her, as if he wasn't paying attention. And oh, she didn't expect him to be nimble, as she darted to her feet, soles leaving footprints in the carpet--Jack’s blood most likely. Not like her feet were bleeding. He slipped to the side and to the front, intercepted with a forearm across her midsection, and he caught her her as she crumpled. Hands at her throat, he bent her backwards, half to drag her back, dip the ends of those blonde tresses in the blood pool, half to see how far her spine would go.

“I still can’t get over that uh….you...were with that guy. I mean look at him. Bor-ring. Doesn’t seem like it’d be much fun on your end--is everything even uh...still working--sorry, was? When do you switch tenses concerning the, uh…”a high, simpering giggle ”dead.”

She screamed again, as best she could through his stranglehold and he rolled murky eyes.

“Ew. Screaming? Really?”

He let go. She fell with a thump, well...more squishy than that, on account of her landing on Jack’s upper back and then rebounding onto the floor. He twirled the knife around his fingers, put his foot lightly on her chest, the tip of his toe resting just at her clavicle.

“What do you think this is, sweetie? Some uh...common murder?  Do I look...like a common criminal to you? Hmmm?”

Something about no no no of course not and blah blah blah begging--always, the begging. He put a bit more pressure on her abdomen.

“A hustler? Pimp? Loan shark? Rapist? Serial killer?” A thin peel of laughter. “Y’know who I am at least, don’tcha?”

But she didn’t know why he was here, in her stepson’s apartment. Or why he’d come into the room like he’d been fired from a musket, and ripped through the two of them. And that was just….uh, darling. The neighbours knew what was happening, of course they did. He’d come in nonchalantly with his posse, who were on public relations detail. He’d told everyone that they were welcome to call the police, if they wanted to die. Maybe lose a first-born. Usual stuff. He only cared about the Drakes. What was left of them, anyway. Well, cared...was such a strong word. He was eager to use them to spread a message.

Jack….Well, he hadn’t lasted long at all. Hardly like he could get up and run away. And well, the Joker had dumped him out of his wheelchair first chance he got. The woman--what was it...Always bad, so bad, with names...Dana? Sounded right. Dana’d been told to run, but she’d tried to help. Jack was clearly the brains of the two. He’d knocked her back into the potted plants as he’d hauled Jack up by the ears  and gouged his way through the corners of his lips and up his left cheek before Dana tried to pry him off. He’d nicked a gash across Jack’s throat as he’d shoved Dana back again, kicking her in the ribs just enough to knock all the breath out of her body. Unfortunately, when he dragged Jack back up, it turned out that that little nick had been rather more of a gash across the throat. And the blubbering, flapping sound was from the loose skin of Jack’s split cheek squelching together as he tried to breathe. His eyes were wide, bloodshot, but he was almost dead. The Joker leaned in as close as he could, baring stained teeth, tongue flicking to the corner of his own mouth.

“Guess who’s next, pops?”

There was just enough life left for those eyes to widen, a glaze of horror, pupils contracting, breathing becoming spittle flecked and even more laboured. He let the body fall, didn't care enough to complete the grin. The lack of motive will drive the police crazy. Which brings him right back to en media res.

“Dana, Dana Dana Dana…” he sighs, pushing down harder, she’s playing compliant--thinks it’ll help her live, stupid thing--or she’s just petrified. “You wanna know what’s the worst...about all of this, for you? Breaks my heart, really does.”

A dry chuckle, he taps his heel against her breastbone and the trick blade actives, just poking the underside of her jaw. Her lips press together--looks wormy, what a wormy little mouth. Playing so brave because she thinks it will appease him.

“He’s not even your son. And now you gotta die. So if you wanna scream….”

More frantic no’s, she’s clutching at his ankle like he’s some patron saint of dying women. “Shut up.” Oh, oops. How rude of him, he crouches down, one knee on the floor, one foot still on her.

“Look, toots...I’ll make ya a deal. You don’t scream…” he slipped the knife into her mouth, scraped the inside of her cheek, rattled it across her teeth “And I’ll let you live. You raise your voice...anywhere above a speaking tone...And I gut ya. Now I know, I know, not an easy thing to do, trust me. When I got mine, see...I screamed. And well.” Brown eyes flickered, rolling back to the whites before refocusing on her. “You can see the result.

He had to give her credit, she cried, snot ran from her nose, she drooled. But Dana Drake was a strong woman. She didn't scream until the second side, and he grinned as he watched her face tear itself apart. He shrugged-sorry, Doll- a deal was a deal. He stood up, jabbed his trick shoe-blade into her stomach, rotating his ankle to see how wide he could make the hole, and how many insides he could move around. The screaming was orchestral--he’d missed that. Different angles provoked different screams. But, finally, when her abdomen was a red cave of strewn meat and blood, he realized that the screaming had died down. She was silent, smiling wide and staring glassy-eyed at the ceiling.

“Oh.”

Timmy. Timmy Timmy….He needed a more welcoming surprise than this. The Clown dragged the furniture around, heaved the dead weight corpses up into their old his and hers chairs. There was a rickety dining table chair placed in the center. He was looking forward to this. He sat down, crossing one long leg over the other, foot jiggling, coated in blood up to the arch. He picked idly at the knife. God, it was a good day.

[thewhysarewise]

Don't Upset the Prime Directive || Eddie + Tim

-He huffs, indignant at the teen's suggestion. It's preposterous. Borderline impossible. There simply wasn't the technology.-

Transport of that nature would wind up with all our external organs outside of our bodies--And even if it was possible, it's hardly technology that would available to the general public.

[giantgrumpface]

Behind the Curtain || Bruce & Tim

He is in the Narrows and Bruce has problems. He has an open casefile that's blown up into something much larger and more sinister than expected. He has his agents out in the dark without any means of contacting him because their comm links have all blown out along with the rest of the city's power. The transmission signals are shot. Alfred is only so much help in rerouting his systems. Bruce needs someone capable of more.

There is much he needs to get done before the morning, but this takes priority. The safety of his--of Cassandra and Barbara and John takes priority right now. He needs them to be okay so that they can make sure the city is okay. He pries a window open and slips through the small apartment unnoticed, keeping to the walls until he finds the boy's room. 

"Tim." 

[thewhysarewise]

How to Make Friends and Manipulate People || Tim and Eddie

Human beings, when it came down to the base essentials, were idiots. It always astounded Eddie just how few exceptions there were to the rule. People were lazy, greedy, would sell each other out for less than a heartbeat of their time if you put on your best customer service voice. He sat in the basement of a library, staring at his laptop screen and discretely breaking just about every rule in the place. He respected books, yes, respected knowledge--but the pretentious people who guarded them...He felt no guilt in eating an especially crumbly cookie in his “no food allowed” cubical, nor in crinkling the paper bag it came in, just to disturb the peace. And he’d talked on a few occasions, using a--for lack of a better word---borrowed cell phone to make his inquiries.

To say there had been some significant changes in his behavior since he’d almost been murdered was an understatement. However, it was hard to disconnect entirely from the world of easy money and information that wasn’t readily available to the public. So naturally, when he called Wayne Industries, claiming to be Ralph from computer maintenance, he was half convinced he was only rooting around in the system for the sheer sake of keeping up to date on current events. It wasn’t his fault that the last moron he spoke to just handed his password right over, sending blue eyes arcing in an exaggerated role beneath a mop of askew curls, even as he said his thank you and goodbye.

The company had upgraded its security since the last time he’d snooped around. Odd. Too bad they didn’t update their minimum wage, there was only so much a lowly employee would care about technicalities before they wanted the annoying conversation to end. Eddie had been passed around on the phone until he’d reached someone whose position had some substance. The story had been muddled, a literal game of telephone, where the original message was lost and the small problem Eddie had initially brought to attention had been blown ridiculously out of proportion. The man on the other line had been in a panic. Eddie told him all he needed was a password and for him to briefly lower the firewalls. He said he’d enable them again once he’d fixed the issue and that was that.

The sheer carelessness would have made him want to scream if it hadn’t been so useful in its exploitation. The firewalls he put back up however, were his own. He’d been bored at the apartment, when he was left alone and had decided to use the time to test the effect of his constructions. They weren’t as strong as the previous ones, and there was a good chance he’d have to abandon this laptop if he was discovered. But Wayne Industries had yet to catch him. His forays had gone undiscovered thus far.

There were so many files to choose from, but he decided to stay within the company’s medical branch. He sat with his elbows resting on either side of his laptop, fingers laced together, a platform on which he could rest his chin. A slight smirk tugged the right corner of his lips upwards-there was a great deal in the toxicology department. Oh, of course it was all for the greater good--chemicals yes, but the company was investigating how to neutralize them.

Bioweapons, germ warfare, all in the testing process--for treatment, the aim was to render them useless, to stop the spread...But that was information that could be easily omitted from a report.

He began making copies, transferring files to a usb stick. He wouldn’t necessarily use this against Wayne or his board...But it didn’t mean it couldn’t be tastefully brought to their attention. If the information leaked it would be devastating to the company. They may have been aiming for prevention but it looked like chemical warfare to the untrained eye.

Waiting, it was the part of the hacking process that never made it into the films. Eddie sat back, rubbed his eyes, and then sat rather abruptly forward. Someone had removed one of his firewalls. He entered a few lines of code, lowercase, zeros and ones, clicked--put it back. Only to have it taken down almost immediately afterwards. Nygma’s pale eyes narrowed at the screen. He had already collected enough data to do an extreme amount of damage if he was inclined to do so--but he wanted to finish his transfers and downloads. He also wanted to know what type of hacker he was up against.

He began to type, measured, slow, amending his defences  subtly blocking some but not all of his opponent’s attempts to de-construct him. They were rather evenly matched--for every detour Eddie forced upon his rival, he lost another one of his defences. Well played.

Time to test a virus. Eddie had spent a great deal of time crafting it, and as part of their thrust and parry routine, through the chase and the false trails, he sent the bait out to his pursuer. He enjoyed the game very much, scrambling his true location, and sending false possibilities--but this would be more final. If his opponent accepted the virus, it would wreak havoc on its new host computer. The customized, condescending message “Nice try” would pop up in an insultingly small window, just to rub salt in the wound.

And then there was a pause in the chase, where Eddie assumed his tactic had been successful. He smiled, rolled his shoulders and plucked the usb stick from its port. He tucked it into the inner breastpocket of his blazer. Curiosity kept him from leaving immediately. He stood up, pushed in his chair and went to stand in one of the isles. He plucked a book from the shelf and pulled it a quarter of the way open--so he looked immersed in it but not overly so. He would wait and see who came to find him--and if they appeared threatening, well all they had to look at was a computer, he’d simply walk out while they tried to crack his password.

[giantgrumpface]

Easy to Run || Texts with Bruce & Tim

Tim: Um... I don't know if I should.. I-- Um.

Tim: It's just-- I know it won't change anything if I tell you. I'm pretty sure I'm dead either way. But I wanted to tell you it's not your fault.

Tim: Joker came to my house last week.

Bruce: Why haven't I heard anything before this? You should have immediately contacted me. Where are you now?