#ridingred

[batclaws]

@ridingred​ "And yet you put up with me, which makes me your nerd, forever. Checkmate."

Arms crossed, the most put-upon tsk of a noise, even the tilt of his pointed chin naturally dramatic. It’s nowhere near enough to make up for the height difference, but he tries. “Dreadful and absurd. What am I supposed to do with you?”

[wcrldliar]

‘     you really don’t need to wave the gun around,   hood.   m’plenty scared.   ’     she drawls,  even though she’s more preoccupied by making sure her heels haven’t stepped into any of the pooling muds from the broken concrete floor.   it isn’t like maria’s a clean freak per se —  she’s military   -   she understands getting her hands dirty if she has to,   but jesus.   vigilantes really are the fucking worst.   gotham’s vigilante ?   on another level entirely.   maria really needs a fucking a raise.

‘   you’ve wounded one of my undercover agents last saturday for having been mistaken ‘em with a drug supplier,   you remember ?   ’

  @ridingred​   /    starter call

[monogramic-archive]

@ridingred​ liked for a starter.

    “well. it’s. . . it’s. . .” mary jane’s currently struggling with putting into words how terrible the composite sketch she was looking at was. “i doubt anyone’s going to be catching whoever this is with that. it doesn’t even look human.” tough critic. 

[murder-popsicle]

@ridingred​

Gotham was proving to be an unusually crime-ridden city, even worse than the New York of Jane's childhood. Everywhere she turned, there seemed to be shootouts, robberies, drug dealing, and worse, despite the efforts of Gotham’s ragtag group of vigilantes. Jane had made a point of avoiding them so far; by all accounts they were an insular group and fiercely possessive of their territories, tolerating no interlopers.

The Batman seemed to be the most well-known of the bunch, but there were others. Jane didn't know all their names, but there was the man with the batons, and the teenager in the red costume, and even a child who occasionally accompanied the Batman. She couldn't help thinking that it was horribly irresponsible for an actual child to be taken out to face Gotham’s criminal underbelly, but she knew, too, that interfering would only give the people she was personally hunting more time to hide. This wasn't the first city she'd hit. HYDRA knew by now that the Winter Soldier was off their leash, and that she was coming for them.

She had no plans to leave any of them alive.

Tonight, she wasn't on stakeout. She was gathering information. Criminals kept their ears to the ground, and with the right incentive, some of them were willing to talk. They might not know exactly who was part of HYDRA, but the particular informant Jane had found had sharp eyes and saw a lot that might be useful to her.

Vinnie Martino was a drug-dealing lowlife, but he had information, and Jane had money from the last bunker she’d destroyed. Exchanging one for the other suited them both. He’d already given her a tip that had led her right to one of the names on her list, something she'd been happy to take advantage of. If Vinnie had noticed that the man hadn’t been seen since, he didn't seem bothered by that fact. The guy had all the moral fiber of a rat. But he was useful, so Jane kept a line of communication between them open.

Tonight, she was handing over a wad of bills in exchange for the latest relevant gossip, when she was suddenly struck by the feeling that they were being watched.

“Get back,” she said to Vinnie, pushing him into the shadows. “Someone’s here.”

[wasntmj-a]

mary jane doesn’t understand why mama insists on her having a tutor.   it isn’t like they’ll be staying here long,   even though mary jane could never say that to mama because mama’s convinced that this time around it’ll turn out good.   it’s a good school with a good programme,   mama had told her the first day when they moved in,   brushing mary jane’s hair back with this wide,  beautiful smile.    you’re gonna make friends in no time!    she has made zero friends so far.   well,   there’s stiles and alisha,   she guesses,   who are kind enough to be her lab partners in mrs johnson’s class,   but    ...    she still spends lunch time in the bathroom stall.  so.  does it matter ?  

and she has no idea where gayle’s gone to.   gayle isn’t supposed to go anywhere,  but apparently she has some friends she said she wanted to meet   (   what friends ?   mj has no idea.   they just got here two months ago )  ,  and now mary jane doesn’t know what time gayle’ll come back.   mama’s not gonna be happy for sure.   and now mary jane’s even failing this tutoring session.   she hates this.   she hates not being able to be as quick with all these sentences and exam questions like she should be.   and she hates that jason’s obviously not happy with her progress.

are you gonna scream at me?   she’d almost wanted to ask,   way too old for a mere thirteen year old.    are you gonna yell and hit me ?    mary jane doesn’t know,   but for some reason,   all she’d wanted to do was see what he would do rather than placate any annoyance she’s brought forward in him so far.   so mary jane pushes at the book,   and groans.   loud.

❝   no,  ❞    she pouts frustratingly,   ❝   i still don’t get it.   what’s the point ?  ❞

   @ridingred   +  plotted

[batclaws]

"i guess old white guys are only afraid of colon cancer and societal change."

Chaotic Murder Podcast Prompts >> Open

The dark of the senator's office does nothing to muffle Jason's mutterings as he digs through the wall safe, pulling out a frankly embarrassing amount of evidence to add to the pile. You'd think someone this high up in government wouldn't keep so much paperwork for his ties to human trafficking and captive prostitution rings.

Red Hood and Eccari have been tracking this particular mess from the ground level, when some of the working girls Jason looked after got snatched off their street corners in near to broad daylight. It’s taken months, a lot of bodies, and far too many dead ends to get this far. Sloppy or not, they’ll take the win.

"Aren't cis men also afraid of their prostate health?" Damian asks blithely, forked tongue as sharp as ever before he scents the air again, tasting the balance of wood polish, dust, carpet cleaners and faded cologne. There. Another of those little giveaways; a scent pocket of (printer ink, paper, crisp new metal, sharp the way only locks and guns are), telling him where the next cache is. A quick scan from his mask shows no traps, just an unlocking mechanism that requires the imprint of the senator’s ring, which they don’t have — and don’t need. Easy work to slide a dagger between the panels of polished mahogany and twist. The decorative facade pops off with a crack, leaving another secret compartment wide open; this time nothing more secure than a steel strongbox with a simple lock.

Damian can’t help frowning. If this were Gotham, he’d have had to spend at least 10 minutes defusing a pressurized gas trap, several alarms, and a biometric scanner. New York politicians are daft and soft. For one of top financial backers of the worst trafficking ring of the Eastern Seaboard, this is really embarrassing. Unless... it’s a decoy.

“Are we sure Senator Martin isn’t a red herring?” Damian asks quietly. Paranoia has him picking the lock as carefully as he would diffuse a Gotham bomb. “This seems... entirely too sloppy.”