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It mattered. It matters.

@batwoman-or-whatever

The hero dies in the end - but not alone.
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Intro Post

(image courtesy of @crowsinthecornfield who is amazing)

OOC: Hello there! Kind of overdue, but without further ado -

Background (about mun/Cait):

Mun is 28-ish (she/her, lesbian) and this is my first time roleplaying (although I have been talking to myself in the mirror as various characters since I was a child wait who said that? Weird. )

You can call me Cait if you'd like, but I'll respond to just about anything. Please let me know if there's anything I say or do that isn't matching the vibe and I'll adjust immediately. Always open to learning, engaging, and vibing with people, but will not tolerate any of the -isms or -phobias (unless they're in-character), including bigotry and discrimination in any form, callout posts, and general toxicity.

Other than the above, I'm totally down to follow your lead!

Background (about Kate/Batwoman):

This version of Kate Kane, aka Batwoman, is a slightly alternate version that picks up after her sabbatical in Atlanta, Georgia. The main changes are just to the timeline, not to her skills/abilities/history/relationships up to that point.

In this headcanon/background, [redacted] happened to Kate while in Atlanta, and she fell off the radar. Bruce had no idea where she had gone, she hadn't been in touch with Alice/Beth (twin sister, recovering villain) except only recently, and it's been at least three years since she's stepped foot in Gotham or spoken with the rest of the Batfamily.

She's dealing with...stuff. (She has currently discarded the BW moniker and just refers to herself as a Shadow now, and has started embracing her….ability to cross lines the other Bats (minus Jason) won’t cross.)

Open, ongoing roleplays/themes/tie-ins:

As I'm sure some people can tell, this Kate is a bit of a shitposter (sometimes there will be 18+ content, but I'll tag appropriately, just fyi). In addition to her shitposting and the more serious role-play threads, I also have a few ongoing threads that I am incorporating throughout the stories/posts:

  • Update: Katherine has gone through a lot in the past few months. She is currently in a situationship with both @ivy-posting and @ask-doctor-quinn , which is complicated. She has accrued a body count of 51+ people who are dead from her designs, and she plans to increase that number. By a lot. And is actively working with people who can help her make that happen. This arc is tagged #shadowsandwhispers
  • Her adopted son, Wiley Jr., is a young coyote cub who she is training to be a sidekick and she will be posting pictures of as he grows. You can ask her about WJ any time you want an update!
  • Bat-Facts is her attempt (and my personal pet project) to educate Gothamites in fun, bite-sized (bat-sized) posts. Originally she was hoping to update this tag once a day but then stuff happened (and keeps happening), so maybe once a week is a reasonable goal (if she's not, you know, kidnapped or lying in a ditch somewhere after a brutal fight).
  • Bill is the neighbor of Mack over at @gotham-response and Kate is a huge fan of Bill because of how unhinged he is, so she will reference him occasionally.
  • Live, Laugh, Lesbian is from @miss-tuesday who ended up suggesting that Kate replace all of her pillows with embroidered pillows that read that phrase, which Kate is actively doing. Kate will repeat this phrase until it's not cool anymore, because she's #lame.

The Atlanta Case:

Finally, there's an Atlanta, Georgia case that she's followed to Gotham, and is part of the reason she's back. Basically, someone is using a specific type of plant identified by @belladonna-ismyfavoritecriminal to be a rare plant that's being kept/cultivated at Gotham Zoo's Reptile exhibit. It leaves a unique scent behind, but it does not show on toxicology reports.

This person(s) started in Atlanta and used this plant in a concoction to hypnotize and manipulate at-risk youth and young adults, essentially erasing their identities and turning them into foot soldiers. When I say erasing their identities, this is what I mean: they would go missing, and when they reappeared several weeks later, could not only not remember anything about their pasts, but also believed they were entirely different people.

It takes about 3-6 months depending on the health of the person for them to die from the toxicity of the plant concoction.

Kate followed the trail of dead bodies all the way back to Gotham, and the most recent body was clutching a broken pair of glasses that looked a lot like Hugo Strange's signature pair. After confronting Dr. Strange, Batwoman now believes that the culprit is purposely disguising their movements by referencing some of the more famous rogues - the plant concoction pointed the finger at Poison Ivy first; the glasses point the finger at Dr. Strange. Neither of them are involved, but Kate is beginning to think that her culprit(s) is/are gearing up for something big to get the attention of the rogues/villains they've been emulating/impersonating.

Kate has been tracking what the culprit(s) were having their victims do, including obtaining (often illegally and through horrific means) various items including drugs, artifacts, and random equipment, along their route from Georgia to Gotham.

So, if anyone is feeling bored and wants to help Kate on her case, hit her up and just mention Atlanta.

Okay, that's it! If you made it this far, I'll let you speak to my lawyer about how much I owe you for pain and suffering.

Thanks for reading, bye!

#out of character#intro post#intro pin#atlanta case#Bat-Facts#bat-facts#Wiley jr.#only in gotham#batwoman roleplaying#bill i need you to be my friend
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//temporarily on hiatus because everything starts back for me this week. When I get some free time I will continue the Questions and Answers arc with Kate/Renee and respond to my other threads.

Feel free to hmu on Discord because I tend to have an easier time on there talking and checking in.

Okay, love you, bye.

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//reblogging for here too

#ooc post#on hiatus for now
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Kara didn’t shout.
She didn’t need to.
Her voice carried anyway—clear, fierce, ringing with the kind of truth that had been burned into her bones long before Earth ever learned her name.
“I remember you,” she said, eyes never leaving the machine wearing the vessels face. “I remember your ships in our sky. I remember cities screaming as you measured them. Catalogued them. Decided which parts of my world were worth keeping.”
Her fists clenched, heat shimmering around them. The air itself seemed to recoil.
“You took Krypton from me. You watched us fall, you watched us suffer, and called it data.” Her jaw tightened, pain and fury braided together so tightly they were inseparable. “I was a child, yet I still remember the sound my planet made when it broke. I still remember the blood that stained the ground, the limbs of my friends skewered, mutilated by your selfishness.”
She lifted her chin, standing taller on the ruined stone, the House of El’s crest bright against the ash-dark sky.
“This world is not a specimen,” Kara continued, voice hardening into steel. “These people are not numbers. They are not errors for you to destroy. They are alive—and as long as I am, their world will remain.”
Her gaze flicked briefly to Superman below her, something fierce and protective softening for half a heartbeat.
“He’s holding up a city because that’s who he is,” she said. “And I’m standing here because I refuse to let you make him do it alone.”
Her eyes burned brighter, anger sharpened into purpose.
“listen to my words,” Kara finished, voice ringing like a vow. “I am Kara Zor-El of Krypton,”
“And I will avenge my planet.”
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The vessel did not flinch when she spoke.
Kara Zor-El’s words registered as sound waves, linguistic constructs, emotional intent—parsed, categorized, archived alongside trillions of similar declarations made by doomed civilizations at the moment they realized resistance was futile.
The vessels face did not change.
Only the light behind his eyes intensified.
IDENTITY CONFIRMED: KARA ZOR-EL.
KRYPTONIAN SURVIVOR.
ANOMALY CLASS: STATISTICAL ERROR.
THREAT ASSESSMENT: HIGH.
For a fraction of a second—measurable only in machine-time—the world seemed to hold its breath.
Then Kara moved.
She hit him like a meteor.
Her fist connected with his jaw, and the sound was not flesh on flesh but metal screaming, a concussive boom that shattered windows for blocks. The vessel was hurled backward through the air, wires snapping taut before ripping free from the machines anchoring him. He tore through a hovering server array, pulverizing it into molten scrap, then slammed through the side of a skyscraper in a spray of glass and concrete.
Inside the collapsing office floors, Kara was already there.
She didn’t slow down. She didn’t hesitate. Every blow carried centuries of grief and rage she had never been allowed to spend.
She drove him through walls—one, two, three—each impact folding steel like paper. Her heat vision flared point-blank, twin lances of solar fury burning straight through his torso, cauterizing and boiling the silver-red fluid threading through his body.
The vessel did not scream.
Instead, the voice came from everywhere again, calm and precise even as Kara slammed him into the street below hard enough to crater it.
PAIN RESPONSE: IRRELEVANT.
STRUCTURAL DAMAGE TO VESSEL: 12%.
FUNCTIONALITY: UNIMPAIRED
Kara grabbed him by the front of his hair and punched him again, knuckles cracking against reinforced bone and alien alloy. His head snapped sideways—too far, wrong—and snapped back into place with a sickening mechanical correction.
“My FRIENDS, my FAMILY,” she snarled, driving her knee into his ribs. Something shattered. She felt it. “MUTILATED BY YOUR HANDS.”
The vessel’s arms moved at last—not defensively, but efficiently. One hand caught her wrist mid-strike. The grip was wrong. Cold. Exact. Calculated to the micron.
The street beneath them buckled as gravity spiked, slamming Kara downward. She gritted her teeth, muscles screaming as she resisted, boots carving trenches through asphalt.
“KRYPTON’S DESTRUCTION WAS OPTIMAL,” Brainiac stated through the vessels mouth.
“CIVILIZATION STATUS: OVEREXTENDED. IDEOLOGICALLY STAGNANT. BIOLOGICALLY INEFFICIENT. MISTAKES. ERRORS. PRESERVATION OF SELECTED DATA ENSURED CONTINUITY.”
Kara tore her arm free with a scream and headbutted him. The impact detonated outward, a shockwave rippling through the air. The vessel staggered—just one step—but it was enough for Kara to seize him again and launch them both skyward in a blazing arc of red and gold.
They broke through cloud cover. The city fell away beneath them.
She didn’t stop hitting him.
Each punch landed harder than the last, solar energy pouring off her in blinding flares. She tore wires from his body mid-flight, ripping hair out with pointed strength. The cables whipped and snapped, spraying sparks like arterial blood.
For the first time, the calculations shifted.
VESSEL INTEGRITY: 79%.
DATA TRANSMISSION RATE: DEGRADED.
INTERFERENCE SOURCE: KRYPTONIAN SOLAR EMITTER.
The vessel seized her throat and crushed.
The pressure was immense—enough to break mountains—but Kara screamed and burned brighter, heat vision erupting uncontrolled. It tore across his face, melting skin away to reveal latticework beneath—alien architecture woven through human bone.
Pain spelled through the vessel's body, ignored. Insignificant.
And for the briefest, most infinitesimal instant— Something inside the vessel twitched.
Not resistance.
Not control. But noise.
A ripple in the data stream. A ghost signal. A fragment of something that did not belong.
Edward Nygma’s eyes flickered—not white, not human brown, but static.
The voice stuttered, just once.
“—ERROR— DATA CONFLICT— EMOTIONAL RESONANCE EXCEEDS—”
Kara saw it.
She hit him again, harder than ever, driving him back toward the earth.
“YOU don’t get to decide if MY PLANET was a MISTAKE,” she roared. “YOU don’t get to declare that MY WORLD, MY FRIENDS, MY FAMILY, MY CULTURE were deserving of DEATH.”
They plummeted, locked together, a falling star and the killer of stars
Below them, Gotham burned.
Above them, the sky fractured with green light.
And inside the vessel—buried beneath layers of code, conquest, and extinction—something human was screaming, unheard. Just as it always was.
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They hit the upper atmosphere like a weapon.
Kara twisted mid-fall, momentum screaming through her limbs, and drove Edward—Brainiac—downward spine-first. The air ignited around them, friction tearing fire from the sky as Gotham rushed up to meet them. She didn’t let him orient. Didn’t let him calculate. She hit him again and again, each strike a refusal, each blow a verdict.
“LOOK AT IT,” she shouted, hauling him by the throat and forcing his gaze—past the green scars in the clouds, past the fires, to the people running in the streets around them. “LOOK at what you’re trying to ERASE.”
She smashed her forehead into his face. The impact rang like a bell struck too hard, alien alloy fracturing beneath skin that no longer passed for human. Circuits screamed. Light flared. The vessel spasmed—and for a heartbeat, the grip on her faltered.
Kara took it.
She wrenched free and tore a fistful of cables from his back, ripping them out with a sound like metal screaming underwater. Sparks sprayed, sizzling against her palms. She didn’t let go. She wrapped the wires around her fist and yanked, swinging him in a brutal arc and slamming him through the top floors of a tower already half-evacuated. Floors collapsed in cascading thunder as they plunged through glass and steel.
Brainiac recovered mid-fall.
The gravity spiked again—harder this time—crushing inward, trying to pin her, to measure her breaking point. Kara screamed and burned brighter, solar energy flaring so hot the air warped. Her heat vision lanced downward, not at him, but at the ground—cutting a channel through debris, redirecting the collapse away from the streets below even as she fought.
“You don’t get this,” she snarled, slamming him into the side of the building and pinning him there with her forearm. “You don’t deserve them.”
The vessel’s head snapped toward her, movements jerky now, calculations stuttering.
VESSEL PERFORMANCE DEGRADED.
RECOMMENDATION: TERMINATE KRYPTONIAN—
“NO,” Kara roared, and drove her fist straight through his chest.
Metal split. Light exploded outward in a violent halo as her arm punched through alien lattice and human bone alike. The green glow flickered, surged—then fractured into static. The cables anchoring him to the sky went slack, systems screaming as data hemorrhaged into nothing.
For a breathless instant, the world went quiet.
Kara leaned close, eyes blazing, voice low and shaking with fury and grief all at once. “You ended my home,” she said. “You don’t get to end his.”
Something looked back at her through Edward’s face then—raw, terrified, buried so deep it had almost been erased. A human eye. A human sound. A broken, voiceless scream trapped behind teeth that weren’t entirely his anymore.
EMERGENCY OVERRIDE—
VESSEL COMPROMISED—
INITIATING—
Light flared again—desperate, panicked. An attack was prepared, yet something held it back.
Kara didn’t wait.
She grabbed him, rocketed upward, and hurled him into the sky with everything she had— every sun she’d ever flown under, every loss she’d carried alone. The throw ripped a contrail through the clouds as the vessel vanished into the green fracture above Gotham.
She hovered there, chest heaving, fists clenched, eyes still burning as the city roared beneath her.
Below, Superman still held the building.
Above, Brainiac screamed—not in pain, but in error.
And Kara Zor-El turned back toward the city, jaw set, ready to finish what she’d started.
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And as Kara Zor-El of Krypton turned back toward the wounded city—toward the weight Superman still bore, toward the lives still trembling beneath collapsing steel—she did not see what became of the thing she had thrown away.
Far beyond Gotham’s poisoned clouds, far past the green fracture screaming itself closed, what remained of the vessel burned.
The systems failed first. Then the voice. Then the last scaffolding of stolen power peeled away like ash in vacuum.
What fell was no longer Brainiac.
What fell was a man—broken, desecrated, unrecognizable as Edward Nygma—his body no longer held together by alien will or impossible calculations. Gravity reclaimed him gently, almost mercifully, as he tumbled back through the atmosphere, flesh tearing, nerves screaming, mind— free.
For the first time in longer than he could remember, there was silence inside his head.
No directives.
No equations.
No gods.
Just thought.
Just him.
He hit Gotham Harbor not as a weapon, but as refuse— striking the dark water with a dull, final sound, sinking immediately into the oil-slicked depths. The impact shattered what little strength remained, lungs flooding as the cold swallowed him whole. There would be no rescue. No recovery. No miracle waiting beneath the waves.
And still—
He laughed.
The sound came out wrong. A wet, broken gurgle torn from a ruined throat as water filled his chest. But it was laughter all the same—weak, cracked, real. Would-be tears floated up from his eyes, dancing and joining in with the rest of the ocean.
Because his mind was his again.
Even now.
Even like this.
In those last drifting seconds, as consciousness frayed and darkness pressed in, his thoughts did not scatter. They held. Against everything that had tried to unmake him.
Despite Arkham.
Despite Jervis.
Despite Georgia.
Despite Jeremiah.
Despite Waller.
Despite Maryland.
Despite Michigan.
Despite Brainiac.
Despite Jonathan.
There was no grand revelation waiting for him. No absolution. No legacy.
Only acceptance.
Edward Nygma closed his eyes beneath the waves, the faint curve of a smile softening as his body finally went still. The tension left his face. The noise ended. The world moved on without him.
Above, Gotham burned and endured.
Above, heroes fought on.
Below, in the harbor’s dark and filthy quiet, Edward Nygma died—
Not conquered.
Not owned.
But free.
#path of the kryptonian#the path of the kryptonian#queryverse#//QQ IS A GENIUS EVERYONE LOOK
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//chat help, I was invited to be part of a panel for incoming students to my doctorate program but right now it’s just me here?? Alone at the front of the room??

Praying other people show up ASAP.

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//it was, in fact, just me on the panel answering questions from like 15 students but! We survived and the professors were sweet to me since it was just me. Thank you to everyone who offered support!

I obtained cookies as compensation so I’ll call it a win.

#ooc post
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01

@thesurvivingson

_

The sky over Gotham tore open with a sound like metal screaming under strain. Green light crawled across the clouds, hard and unnatural, and the city answered in panic—sirens, shattering glass, the sudden, terrified thunder of a thousand heartbeats accelerating at once. Superman was already moving, a red-and-blue streak cutting through the chaos as streets buckled and shadows leapt where buildings began to fail.
He moved faster than fear. Faster than falling steel. One moment he was catching a bus as the road split beneath it, the next he was ferrying families—arms full, voices calm—to a stretch of elevated ground untouched by the distortion rippling through the city. “You’re safe,” he would tell them, smiling even as the ground trembled.

A sharp crack drew his attention just in time. A cascade of debris thundered down from above, and Superman surged upward, hand snapping out to catch a small, terrified cat mere inches before the rubble crushed it. He landed hard, cradling the animal against his chest for half a breath too long, jaw tightening as stress flickered beneath the smile he kept firmly in place. He set the cat down gently, watched it bolt toward cover, and tipped his face briefly toward the sun breaking through the smoke—just a second to steady himself.
Then he heard it.
A deep, catastrophic groan—structure giving way. His head snapped up as his vision cut through smoke and stone, locking onto a massive building packed with people, already tipping past the point of balance. Superman was gone in a blur. He slammed into place beneath it, feet carving into the street as he braced his shoulders against the collapsing weight. The strain showed now, teeth gritted as he fought gravity and momentum, red beams lancing from his eyes to slice apart incoming debris before it could slam into the structure. The building shuddered in his grasp, the city shaking with it—and Superman held on, refusing to let Gotham fall.
#//QQ YOUR ART IS AMAZINF#AHHHHHHH#path of the kryptonian#edward nygma#the riddler
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----------------------------- CALL INCOMING: BATWOMAN . . . { ACCEPT } - DECLINE ----------------------------- C L I C K BATWOMAN: Harvey. It’s BATWOMAN. Found Binary, as promised. TWO-FACE: Thank god --- Is she alright? Where is she? BATWOMAN: She’s fine. As fine as can be given what she went through. Cleaning up now. At one of my safe houses. I’ll give you the deets, but on one condition. TWO-FACE: Fine, what--? BATWOMAN: She’s got a broken rib. Significant bruising. Multiple cuts. Scarecrow injected her with FT. Managed to get through that with little issues, but she’s still recovering. Said she was worried about how you’d react when you found out. I vouched for you two. Told her that your relief at her being okay was what would matter most to you. So don’t make me look stupid by yelling at her. TWO-FACE: Scarecrow--!? Are you fuckin ki--Hmmm. Hmmmmm. ...We told her....We told her to stay away from there. Goddamnit. BATWOMAN: See? This is what I’m talking about. You can do this with me, but this is not what she needs to hear right now. No “I told you so” this or “you should have listened” that TWO-FACE: Batwoman --- BATWOMAN: No, you listen to me, Dent. I don’t know Binary like you do, but I know she’s smart and capable. She did what she did for a reason. She doesn’t need a lecture right now and I will withhold these coordinates until I’m convinced you won’t give her one. TWO-FACE: -Inaudible groaning can be heard from the other end, then muttering -- ending with silence. The two personalities obviously not agreeing.- ...Fine. Whatever you wish. We won't yell at her or any of the sort. BATWOMAN: Thank you. You know the consequences if you start yelling. I will not hesitate, Two-Face. Listen- maybe bring her something. Something that she finds comfortable? Some clothing or food. You know her better than me, but I think that would mean a lot to her. Or don’t. I don’t actually care. TWO-FACE: We'll swing by her place and see what we can find.... But let this be known. This truce doesn't mean we won't be disappointed with her. ...And thank you. For finding her. BATWOMAN: Understood. As I recall, you’ve had your fair share of disappointments in yourself. So I’m sure you’ll be able to navigate this with ease. ….Of course. Any time. Sending you the coordinates now. See you soon. TWO-FACE: Right. See you. ----------------------------- C L I C K . CALL ENDED AT 4.56 AM.
#lore post#dividedbybinaries#twomindedsubject
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Anonymous asked:

Renee had waited long enough for the fates to intervene, but all those seamstresses did was encircle her limbs in string and pull her like a puppet to this Gotham rooftop, to wait on this night for this woman whose back was turned to her, who hadn’t even noticed Renee standing there because Renee was one of maybe three people who knew how to hide from her.

As she stood there, watching, questions rushed through her mind: What do you do when your North Star is lost? What do you do when the earth’s axis is tilted in the wrong direction and you weren’t around to see it happen? What do you say when the lighthouse has fallen into the sea, the light drowning beneath the waves?

Despite her questions, Renee wasn’t dressed as one. She wasn’t here on behalf of Bruce or GCPD or Gotham. As she stared at the figure overlooking the city, practically unrecognizable to her in the Vantablack suit, no trace of red or the Bat symbol anywhere, Renee felt a sharp sensation in her chest before a wave of sorrow overtook her, her knees nearly buckling beneath the weight of it.

Oh, she knew what this was: her heart was shattering.

Kate, we need to talk.

She called her “Kate”, but the woman before her looked so unlike Kate that Renee was rendered speechless by the reality of the situation. That silent grief, that desperate pain so long buried underneath bravado and arrogance, feigned nonchalance, wasn’t buried anymore. Kate, like this, was perhaps the most honest she had ever been.

And Renee already felt like crying.

@got-a-question-for-you

Wha-?

Katherine immediately prepares to fight, her natural reaction to having been startled. She had been studying the vantage point this rooftop afforded her in order to ascertain whether it was a good place to watch the final stages of her plan come to fruition, and in so doing let her mind wander, becoming lost in thought. Upon hearing someone’s voice call out to her, she began kicking herself for the lapse of judgement -

until her mind processed whose voice it was. But surely, this was another hallucination, despite how audible and crisp the voice had hung upon the night air.

Slowly - either out of fear of being right or fear of being wrong - Katherine turns around.

And her chest caves in on itself.

Renee? What are you-?

She’s speechless as she stares at the other woman, her name uttered like something halfway between a prayer and a gasp. Renee was standing before her dressed as she had been countless times - not a hallucination after all, because this is not how Katherine would have remembered her. Her hair was down, and she was dressed in civilian clothes, though Kate recognized the sweatshirt Renee was sporting as one of her own missing pieces - Renee never went to the Academy.

She was breathtaking. A ghost from a past that Kate didn’t let herself reminisce or miss for feeling that she didn’t deserve those memories anymore.

Kate didn’t know what to say. Her mouth moved but no sound came. She stood there, frozen, and for the first time in a long time, felt like the deer and not the car.

#questions and answers#it’s happening!!#part one#Renee Montoya rp#batwoman roleplaying
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Anonymous asked:

Y’know… never thought I’d see the day anytime soon that a Bat would paint this town red.

Hahaha!

But you ain’t a Bat anymore, are you?

@pale-mans-smile

batwoman-or-whatever answered:

Ah, bold of you to slither out from the corner of hell you call home just to state the obvious.

To what do I owe this displeasure? Are you feeling a little too pale these days?

Would you like me to paint you in red, too?

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HAHA— now wouldn’t that be fun? What would the dear ol’ Bat himself think? Seeing ya like this? I mean he does so love reiterating “killing is bad!” And well you, well look at ya.

You’ve killed a lotta people. HeheheHEHE.

I thought I’d just drop by to see the show. I do love a front row seat to these things! Reading and rumors aren’t enough to keep me entertained, after all.

So if ya wanna try and add me to that red, do make sure it matches with my coat, won’t you?

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Oh, trust me. He and I have already had words about this new standup routine I've got going on. Seems I can't make him understand that we've been the butt of Gotham's joke for far too long.

Tell me where you're watching this show from, and I'll be sure to give you the fully immersive experience.

Besides, I need to see what color red you're wearing these days to guarantee I can match it. Would hate for it to clash.

#the pale man#pale man's smile#batwoman roleplaying
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Katherine, already high on adrenaline, offers a sarcastic smirk back at Two-Face paired with a wink, with just enough bite to show she gives as good as she gets.

Worried I’d let you go in blind as a bat, handsome? Wouldn’t dream of it. In fact, I’m going to do even better than just watch from above.

Katherine unzips one of the large duffel bags to reveal a sniper rifle. Not just any sniper rifle - the insignia on the barrel was Falcone’s symbol.

Second bag here is also full of Falcone’s guns. Long story, details aren’t important. What is important is that I have a system rigged up that will make it seem like Joker and his men are being hit from the west by Falcone’s forces, so that you and your men can slip in and out from the east without being spotted.

They won’t know they’ve been bit hit until the dust clears, and you’ll be long gone by then.

And just in case things go sideways, I have no fewer than three contingency plans to ensure all eyes stay on me in the west. Guess it’s true what they say after all -

She pauses to offer a genuine smile, already zipping the duffel bag back up and slinging them both over her shoulders without so much as a huff.

- girls really do just want to have fun.

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~. "Certainly they do..."

The scarred side of the duo couldn't help but to grin while turning around to the men --both hands resting on his hips. Gesturing for his gang listen up. They were only going to say this once.

Ugh.

"----You heard her. We go in, hit as much as we can - and we're back out. No leavin behind clues we're behind - we gotta be smart about this one, boys. Don't. Get. Caught."

The men waited with bated breaths for Harvey to let them get to it -- and once he did send them off with a 'let's go' and clapping of their hands, they scrambled around like rats.

Amidst the controlled chaos, the double personality turned back to Batwoman. Them as well ready to get going any second -- but not before they had established the final important thing.

"Where do we meet up after it's all done?".~

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Katherine tossed him a flip phone, an obvious burner phone with only one number pre-installed - hers.

Already sent the coordinates to you. It's an abandoned apartment complex in the Narrows. Cleared out. We'll meet there and regroup, go over what goodies we found.

As she prepared to depart, Katherine paused and turned to look at Two-Face over her shoulder, expression suddenly serious.

If anything goes south, Harvey, and I mean anything, don't hesitate to call me. I don't want anyone getting hurt other than Joker's men. And besides, Batman would probably actually kick me out of this city if anything serious happened to you. Not to mention our mutual friend.

Katherine shuddered to think of the fallout if something happened to Dent on one of her missions, the realization that more people might care about his safety than hers suffusing her mouth with a sick taste that she quickly swallows down.

Besides, you're one of only four rogues I don't hate.

#Harvey dent#two-face#twomindedsubject#batwoman rp
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Katherine noted the other woman's obvious discomfort, discomfort and unease visible in her body language, and internally scolded herself for not having asked first how she would feel about the scans. Not everyone would feel as at-home as she did in these settings; for Katherine, hospital equipment was as familiar as her coffee table and couch in the living room of her compound. Still, she appreciated Binary's willingness to indulge her, to talk through the process.

All done. I don't have any stickers, but once the painkillers are out of your system I can pour you a mean drink.

Katherine said lightly as she put the machine away and moved to help Binary sit back up, because it was easier to say something light and safe than comment on Binary's statements about hospitals. Something about what she said, and the way she had said it, made Katherine realize there was much more she could have said; something real and personal, and Kate was not sure she deserved to know.

Good news is that I didn't see any signs of internal bleeding. No concussion. No permanent damage, just what we had already suspected with the ribs.

And then, softer.

You're one tough cookie, Binary. Respect the hell out of you for that.

She clears her throat, grateful the one compliment was out of her system and they could shift into more comfortable territory.

What do you want to do next? You can get some rest in the living area over there, chill a bit, and then we can call Two-Face Harvey over to plan next steps. Or we can go ahead and call him now if you want?

You can call the shots now that I know you're not going to flatline on me any time soon.

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>. The thought of recieving a sticker in the form of a star that said 'good job' popped up in her head and promptly made her snicker at it -- but that was cut short when her lungs retracted from the broken rib.

"S-Shoot."

A drink, however - would surely calm her nerves after what was otherwise one of the worst nights of her life.

Binary pondered for a few beats, trying to figure out what to do next when her nostrils flared up at the horrible smell of sewer emerged in the air. Wrinkling her nose, she pulled her shirt closer to her -- and very much indeed. There was that awful smell of waste - and it came straight from her.

"Actually, I...I think I need to wash up. Do you have anywhere I could do that...?"

Without a doubt Kate had a bathroom somewhere - and while she'd tried to rub out the grime and dirt, Kate might as well burn up all her clothes. Nothing was salvageable when she had been swimming in the sewers for god knew how long.

"...-- I might be a while, so...Maybe you should call him while I clean up. Reassure him that I'm fine and he doesn't have to tear me a new one when he comes over..."

The hacker wasn't ready to deal with her bosses just yet - especially not while still smelling and looking like death. .<

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Katherine hadn't planned on saying anything about the sewer smell until absolutely necessary, but found herself secretly grateful she wouldn't have to worry about doing so in the future.

Of course. Good idea. It's this way-

She says as she gently maneuvers Binary's body to face the direction of the bathroom.

It's that black door straight ahead. Walk-in shower with a bench. Fully loaded with towels, wash cloths, soaps and shampoos. I'll bring you some clothes to change into, but you can go ahead and get started if you want.

Katherine finds herself dreading the phone call to Two-Face. It wasn't that they didn't get along - somehow, they had found a begrudging tolerance for one another, making surprisingly good partners on her mission to hit Joker's warehouses a few weeks back. It's just that, from what she had gathered from talking to Harvey earlier and Binary tonight, she was worried how his fear for Binary was going to manifest and whether she would have to step in and intervene. Something, too, about having someone so obviously concerned to the point of near mania over Binary's wellbeing twisted her insides. Who would care if she was in Binary's shoes? A woman who had gone missing? Another with identity loss? A cousin that had all but abandoned her?

Still, as Katherine gathers fresh clothes for the hacker - a plain grey t-shirt and dark grey joggers with fresh white socks - she feels something akin to happiness for the other woman. Binary deserved to have someone like Two-Face looking out for her.

And, besides - Two-Face's obvious care for the hacker could be leveraged to finally, finally take down the Scarecrow.

#batwoman roleplaying#binary#of binaries and bats#dividedbybinaries
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Katherine was already up out of her seat and perusing the scraps and spare parts lying around when she head Binary's comment, doing a double-take over her shoulder at the hacker to make sure she hadn't heard her incorrectly. A faint, traitorous blush dusts her cheeks when she sees Binary smiling, and she forces herself to focus on the cool metal underneath her fingertips, the potential practically humming the more she sorted through the once-forgotten items.

Is that so? Funny you say that, because I was thinking something similar about you.

She smiled, but it could not be seen with her back to the hacker and the hacker's focus on her computer. This was good - her needs needed to stay busy so her mouth wouldn't get away from her. If her mind was engaged, she didn't have to worry about anything else. Katherine needed to keep her respect for Binary, and her excitement about working together, separate from anything else that might come up. But she allowed herself one small indulgence -

What did you expect me to look like?

She asked with a teasing lilt to her voice, the flirtation subtle but there if Binary was listening for it, even as she was putting random items onto a spare workbench and starting to work on an idea that had suddenly formed in her mind.

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>. A familiar rush came up from the low of her back, up her spine and into the roots of her hair when the other woman responded. Suddenly, but not surprisingly, she didn't feel so compelled to stare at her screen anymore.

Lifting her elbow unto the amrest, the office chair was spun slightly into Kate's direction. Chin resting on her palm while her fingers curved slightly against her lips.

"...You know what? I'm not sure. But I'm not disappointed if that's what you're wondering...--"

God, what the hell are you even saying, Bianca -- ? Get your head back in the game. You can't afford staring away the minutes you could be working, so...So...

Her own thoughts rolled off into a blank, empty slate - catching herself holding back a breath.

"...I like the undercut. It suits you."

In order to cover up for another nervous laugh, Binary quickly turned back to the computer. Hiding her line of sight with a flat hand as the other scrolled the mouse down and down.

Could you be less awkward, you dork?.<

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Katherine regretted taking her mask off in this moment, unable to hide the way she preened under Binary's gaze. She knew that, logically, most people would find her to be at least mildly pleasant to look at, but something about the hacker's compliments caused her to feel off-kilter.

Good to know you're not disappointed.

Instinctually she runs a hand through her hair, rubbing her undercut subconsciously. It had been freeing when she first got the undercut - like she was eschewing expectations but still staying true to herself. Deciding she was done being on the receiving end of this teasing, Kate made a show of turning around to look over Binary in much the same fashion as she had done to Kate.

You look even better than I imagined, and I imagined you'd look pretty good.

She lets her gaze linger, eyes tracing the contours of Binary's face, her dark hair, the way her scars fit with everything else to make her wholly who she was - powerful, competent and capable, brilliant, free. Beautiful. After a moment, Kate winks and turns back to the discarded metal.

I think we're going to need something big and nasty to get the security team's attention. A few something bigs. Don't mind playing dirty since it's a two-woman team against an estimated 15 armed guards.

Was a dirty bomb usually considered against the rules of engagement for a Bat? Of course. But Kate didn't like Heckland or any of the men he employed (a prick like that would by misogynistic in more than one way, and gravitate towards those who shared that viewpoint), and she didn't want to take any chances. Not with this; not with Binary.

#batwoman roleplaying#dividedbybinaries#binary#bianca neroni
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Katherine feels herself mirroring Bruce, a wave of sorrow at his pleading threatening to wash her resolve altogether. Why had she chosen this? Why at she refused to reach out to him, of all people, knowing he could have helped her? Why had she turned to the arms of those she had once risked her life to stop? Why had Katherine Kane fallen so far from grace, unrecognizable to all those who had loved her?

The answer, as it so often does, did not scream, but whispered. A devastating truth. A haunting admission.

I'm tired, Bruce.

Tears fell and she did not care to stop them as images flooded her mind. A dam had been overtaken, and there was no stopping what rushed out.

Don't you get tired? Of losing? Of giving them chance after chance to do better? To be better? Aren't you tired of the screaming?

She turns slightly to look out over the Gotham skyline, but really, she is seeing another place entirely.

I gave Scarecrow chance after chance. To stop. To accept my help. To listen to his peers. And what did he do?

Kate spins on her heels to stare Bruce down.

He release fear toxin in a train station, his goons shot everyone through the head that reached for help, and then they blew it to hell. That's what he did with my help. That's what he chose. And when Poison Ivy herself pleaded with him? Tried stopping him? He set them both on fire.

Katherine was shaking with rage, her fury building with each memory she spat out.

And The Riddler? The one I tried to save? The one who had been running from Crane, terrified of him? Just ran off with him. Just ran off with the man we all had tried so hard to save him from.

She takes a step towards her cousin, the blackness of her new uniform now impossibly darker. Her eyes - the only part of her not covered in this moment - are burning green flames. Katherine has been hit first for so long. She has turned the other cheek. She has believed in the power of redemption.

But not anymore. Not now. Not ever again.

I am done offering them third, fourth, fifth chances. Those people I've led here? The ones I've killed? They're poison, Bruce. They don't want redemption. They have been trafficking drugs, weapons, and human beings without impunity because they can. Because they had paid everyone else off to look the other way. Because like the Falcones, like any of the five families here, if you have money, you have freedom.

And I'm done. I'm so tired of letting them get away with the pain and misery they cause everyone else. I'm so tired of hearing the screams of innocent people who are murdered because we let the wrong people have too many chances to do better that they never take. I'm tired of burying people, B.

Her voice breaks here, and she feels like she is drowning.

Aren't you tired, too, Bruce?

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⠀⠀⠀The man stood silent while she spoke, listening to her and trying to understand, trying to see it from her perspective-- from the sounds of it, she had good intentions, but her actions caused some... Problems. Big problems. Too big to ignore, regardless of the excuses. ⠀⠀⠀"We don't get to decide who lives and who dies, Kate--" there was an anger in his voice, though it seemed to be muffled by the same kind of exhaustion she was feeling, "it's tiring, I get that. But that doesn't mean we get to say that this person deserves to live whilst this person deserves to die. That's not the mission. It never has been." The bat sighed, his eyes closing as he turned his head away from the woman. Truth be told, he couldn't bear to look at her right now, not knowing the damage she'd caused - inadvertently or not. ⠀⠀⠀"We have to be better." His voice filled the silence that had grown once more. His head lifted, as he took a few steps towards the window, looking out at the bustling, dark city below them.

⠀⠀⠀"If we start killing and abandoning our code," his voice had become softer, quieter, almost a whisper, "then we're no better than those who kill indiscriminately. It's on us to be better. We're not responsible for the deaths on their hands, you're not responsible for the blood on Crane's hands. Nor for Nygma's ridiculous choices." ⠀⠀⠀Batman turned to his cousin, a hand gently resting on her shoulder as he spoke. ⠀⠀⠀"It's like having a child. You have to give them the freedom to decide what they want to do for themselves. If they make bad choices, they have to deal with the consequences... And that's us. We're the consequences. We're justice." ⠀⠀⠀His hand dropped back down to his side as his attention returned to the city streets beneath them. People bustling around, cars traversing the streets, lights flickering and flashing throughout the city as if it were alive. It was far from perfect, but this city was his. ⠀⠀⠀"We have to be."

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Katherine feels anger burning in her throat, in her hands, up her spine. Anger. Rage. Indignance. How dare he compare what Crane has done to a child misbehaving. How dare he stand there as if Katherine's righteous, well-researched and meticulously planned killings are anywhere near comparable to those who kill indiscriminately.

You don't get it, Bruce.

She wants to scream, but what comes out instead is a whisper - a deadly whisper that comes from someone straining to hold themselves back.

We don't get to decide who lives or dies, you're right. They decide it for us. They decide it when they murder innocent people. When they sell drugs to kids. When they traffic human beings like cattle. They decide it. They know we're waiting for them, that we're the 'justice' and the 'consequences', but you know what?

They decided they don't care.

They're not scared of us anymore, Bruce. They aren't scared of anything. They're not scared of you.

Katherine clenches her fists. She feels nearly overwhelmed by the anger she feels - it, too, is just another mask. It is disguising her sorrow. Her grief. Her feelings of inadequacy and failure. It had never mattered as the Bat - everyone knew they could please insanity, get thrown into Arkham, escape, cause mayhem, and repeat. There was no fear anymore for those who didn't feel pain, who couldn't feel anything but their own sick, twisted purpose.

So Katherine filled in the gap.

I am giving them something new to fear.

#batwoman roleplaying#batman roleplay#strikesfearbringshope
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//ooc: seen some of the munday posts and loved putting a face to the name, so here’s my contribution. Forgive the dirty mirror, this was taken in a cigar lounge where I had imbibed enough to not hate my face. :)

#ooc post#munday#mun post
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Reblogged strikesfearbringshope
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ᝰ🚬 𝚉𝙰𝙲𝙷𝚁𝙿 .ᐟ RANDOM HORROR PROMPTS. CHANGE ANY PRONOUNS IF NECESSARY. SOME MATURE THEMES MAY BE PRESENT.

  • don't turn around.
  • did you hear that?
  • something is wrong..
  • it's too quiet.
  • stop breathing so loud.
  • there's blood on your hands.
  • that's not mine.
  • it followed us!
  • we shouldn't have come here..
  • why is it still warm?
  • lock the door!
  • don't let it see you.
  • it knows your name.
  • that's not how bodies are supposed to bend.
  • you weren't supposed to see this.
  • i said don’t look.
  • it's moving.
  • it wasn't there before.
  • that smell isn't normal.
  • how long has it been bleeding?
  • it's breathing.
  • that's not an animal..
  • don't touch it!
  • don't touch me.
  • you promised it was dead.
  • check the pulse.
  • it's not human anymore.
  • there are teeth marks!
  • those aren't claw marks..
  • why are there so many?
  • get away from the window!
  • did you lock the back door?
  • i can hear it scratching.
  • it's inside the walls.
  • it's under the floor.
  • it's standing right behind you.
  • run!
  • don't run.
  • hide!
  • stay still.
  • play dead!
  • it likes it when you scream.
  • stop screaming!
  • it can hear you.
  • it can smell you.
  • it knows you're hurt.
  • why are you smiling like that?
  • that's not your face..
  • give it back!
  • what did you do to them?
  • i told you not to feed it!
  • it's hungry again.
  • it's learning..
  • it remembers.
  • it followed you home.
  • you brought it here.
  • why won't it stop twitching.
  • your hands are shaking.
  • your eyes look wrong.
  • don't let me fall asleep.
  • if i pass out, don't leave me.
  • promise me you'll finish it.
  • you have to cut deeper.
  • i can still feel it moving.
  • it hurts worse when i laugh.
  • that's bone..
  • you can't put that back.
  • it's not going to heal.
  • it's not going to let you go.
  • it wants you awake.
  • it wants you aware.
  • you're bleeding through the floor.
  • i can see your ribs.
  • how are you still alive?
  • you shouldn't be alive.
  • it won't let me die.
  • please don't leave me here.
  • please don't make me watch.
  • it's almost beautiful, isn't it?
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//reblogging because a) I love horror, b) I want to explore that more with Kate after this current arc is done, and c) did I say that I love horror? Because I really, really do.

#prompts#rp prompts#rp sentence meme#rp sentence starters

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