A spine without a nervous system.

[enigmaestro]

Who: EDWARD NYGMA and YOU.
When: 2/19-2/20, all night hours to the wee morning.
Where: In the City.
Summary: Need an interrogation? Conversation? A little more action? He's a slippery guy, but sometimes things catch up to him.
Warnings: Unlikely, but that's always apt to change.
Format: Whatever you tag in with I'll match, just name the place and

Comments

*sinks claws into...oh. that light. at the time he's at that light. 8[

[littlestbastich]

And then the average evening sounds of a drowsy metropolis were interrupted by the shrill, searing squeal of shredding metal - and not the kind-of tolerable music variety. It echoed effortlessly from the lot across the street, caused more than one hypersensitive rich-kid car into an obnoxious alarm fit, and no doubt ruined a decent night's sleep for a great deal of folks nearby.

Well, frag that. And frag this stupid schizophrenic weather!

The hood of the pickup truck dropped to the concrete with a careless clonk out of his hands; Slo-bo gave a loud sniff over the exposed engine before reaching down and dragging one hand across the terrain, flicking bits here and there with a fingernail for tone.

A chunk of transmission went sailing through the air in the direction of that streetlight.

/loves it

[enigmaestro]

There were two things Eddie prized most about himself: his stratospheric IQ and his quick reflexes. The latter was usually what kept him breathing, after all, and there was no limit on gratitude towards that endeavor. He hadn't even a second to think about reaction -- he simply dropped low.

The twisted metal of the transmission squealed against the steel of the light as Eddie ducked under, missing a gruesome splatter by inches. Picking himself up, flicking off bits of street gravel from his palms, he gathered composure a second before peering over. The annoyance on his face melted to subtle horror. It took a moment to pick out the shape of his unintentional assaulter, and a moment more to catch light of the details. The albino hue. The greaser garb.

The rebel-without-a-comb hair.

"Oh. Oh, no." Eddie glanced about for a quick escape -- but there was none.

[littlestbastich]

"Mrrh. No, no..." The bite-size version of Everyone's Favorite Intergalactic Headache continued rifling through the innocent truck's innards as if he hadn't overthrown a hunk of metal and nearly knocked some human into a good week and a half's worth of unconsciousness. Really, he wasn't paying too much attention until his nos blended with a nearby oh, no.

The clinking stopped. Slo-bo sniffed loudly, turning his head to feign peering over his shoulder. His eyes were black, but he didn't need visual confirmation.

"Problem?" he growled, wiping his nose with a greasy forearm.

[enigmaestro]

"No," he made haste of the word. "Not at all." Easing back, hands in pockets, Eddie cautiously took a step towards the darling little agent of chaos.

Despite the screaming warnings, despite the dread and recognition, who couldn't help but be curious?

"Just haven't seen such spectacular work done on a model like that in, gosh, ages. You've got a real knack," he said, pushing a grin. Flattery was the first and foremost self-defense tactic he knew.

2 AMish?

[meowminx]

It wasn't really late for Selina, but she was already out of her costume and back in her street clothes, looking to grab a post-patrol drink. It had been a quiet night, the kind that left her a little too wired, a little too restless. Or maybe that was still the lingering doubts she had about Valentine's. And the number who had been ported out lately. And wondering who would be next.

This place was a lot less tolerable when you stopped and though about these things. So she walked the streets and tried to think of something else.

sounds good!

[enigmaestro]

He kept to the shadows, exhausted from the earlier hours. His footsteps softly echoed down the streets, numbly passing other lost souls without a pause of recognition. Smoke billowed from underground manholes, basking the crisp air in a coat of noir fantasy.

He saw Selina down the block, familiar in posture and confidence. Eddie idled, unsure of his commitments; she wasn't an enemy, certainly, but the tense friendship they had was like unsparked dynamite.

She had probably already seen him.

He raised a hand, along with a smile, and called a greeting.

[meowminx]

She doubted there was actual enthusiasm behind Eddie's greeting, but she returned the smile and wave anyway, strolling in his direction.

The fun of the big city. You never knew who you'd run into.

"Eddie," she said in greeting once she was closer. "When did you turn into a night owl?"

[enigmaestro]

"Perhaps I'm falling back into old habits," he said, his low murmur met with a casual wink. The night air was crisp, awakening. He felt the electrified excitement between two shadowed figures, prowling under those warm city lights and bustling sounds.

Or maybe that was just the feel of old habits, too.

"But honestly, I'm just enjoying the atmosphere." Eddie leaned closer, moving away from the few stranglers strolling by. "There's a strange comfort to the noise, don't you think?"

1 AM, one of Eddie's nightcap bars

[ctu_savior]

By this point the hours Jack worked were on the verge of becoming a minor legend among the police force. The City's crises never slept and often, neither did he. Right now he was trying to follow up on the Joker's recent attacks, find out where and who had supplied him and his gunmen with all their weaponry. The man himself might be put away along with most of his people, but whoever had helped make that rampage possible needed to be held accountable as well.

A few minutes talking with the bar's owner confirmed that Jack's quarry, a possible intermediary for locating body armor, hadn't been seen there in a while. He was on his way out when he paused at the door. Was that...? Yes, Edward Nygma, private detective and reformation expert. And the man handling Norman Osborn's chances of returning to society, which made him someone Jack wanted to talk to. A moment later, Jack was taking a seat next to him.

[enigmaestro]

Eddie felt the presence before he made eye contact. He had worked with (and against) enough cop types to recognize the demeanor, the assurance -- the feel of moral man. More than that, morality that usually came armed. Old resentments boiled under his skin.

He downed his gin and tonic before turning to face his company, arming himself with a sharp smirk. It took no effort to recognize the man, Jack Bauer was a face to remember. And a name to be wary of.

"Isn't this a pleasure?" Eddie's raised eyebrows pitched a perfect tone of surprise. "Jack Bauer, isn't it?"

[ctu_savior]

Jack nodded. One of the drawbacks of being one of the force's higher-ranking officers was that he couldn't take anonymity for granted that much. "Yeah, that's me," he said, turning his head with a neutral expression. "You know me?" Well, at least that would save him from having to establish his credentials.

[enigmaestro]

"Who doesn't know you?" The statement could have easily been a compliment. Eddie made fast eye contact with his bar tender, indicating the want of another gin and tonic. "The real hero of the network, wouldn't you say? A man of action, not spandex."

He held back the grin.

"I'm Edward, by and by. Edward Nygma."

[jumpscars]

Griffin doesn't stick around the City much; too many super-powered idiots all crammed into one city just seems like some kind of death trap waiting to happen... but he can't help but come back to it every couple days anyway. He's kinda in love with comic books and video games, and he can't possibly pass up the opportunity to see their characters turned flesh and blood in whatever approximation of real life that this City is.

So he's seated in one of those atmospheric bars, a few hours after sundown on the 19th, nursing a pint of beer and people watching.

[enigmaestro]

It was an easy stroll into yet another bar. The week had been tough, unforgiving, and Eddie was thirsting for a release. Under the brisk nip of evening, he slipped into someplace warm and stimulating, quickly looking about.

His chest seized for a moment, as Katurian's face caught his sight. The name died on his lips. No -- the movements, the clothing, the self-possession -- that wasn't Katurian. That person, logically, had to be the look-a-like. The doppelganger. The man Katurian could never be.

How interesting.

An eased breath promised back Eddie's composure. He moved in Griffin's direction, sliding next to him.

"Hello. You're familiar," he said with a smile.

[jumpscars]

Griffin glanced up sharply at the familiar voice, and quirked an eyebrow. "Thanks, I do try." He'd been snooping through Eddie's old entries after their conversation, because he's a paranoid freak, and while he and their mutual friend Katurian hadn't had many (non-encrypted) conversations, the one or two that they did were very illuminating.

Griffin knew, perhaps better than most, that intelligence could be way more dangerous than superpowers if used correctly... and Edward didn't strike him as a stupid guy, whether or not he had any sort of halfway useful ability. Plus the way he could make Katurian jump through hoops with words alone was almost impressive. Which was to say, it would be totally impressive if it didn't piss Griffin off so much to hear what was essentially his own voice reduced to a frenetic or stuttering mess

[enigmaestro]

"How kind of you to offer," he said with a compliant grin. The appropriate social niceties always smoothed a conversation -- or confrontation, depending -- but Eddie was curious as to why Griffin would humor him so nicely. Katurian's doppelganger had the bold spine Katurian lacked, the confidence that billowed in tune with his personality, a sense of self that conflicted with the world and the ability to act upon it -- that sort of combination, Eddie was certain, made for a good anarchist.

Which, in turn, made this exchange all the more titillating.

"I'll follow your lead on brew." Eddie leaned a touch closer, as if ready to conspire. "You're a man who knows his poisons, surely."

Anytime that fits, preferably late-ish.

[incywincyhero]

Spidey was taking a break from freezing his tuchis off on patrol to ... freeze his tuchis off sitting three stories up on the side of an anonymous corporate building. The advantage of this second scenario? Hot coffee.

It was as he was regretfully finishing off the last drops of warm joe that he saw the familiar figure walking by underneath. "Oh ho, that's convenient," he said out loud.

For a moment he hesitated, Catwoman's words from their last conversation running through his mind. Better to confront or surveil? The latter was tempting; a man's actions always spoke louder than his words, and in the case of smooth talkers like Norman Osborn or Eddie Nygma, the difference was best expressed in decibels. On the other hand, he only had Catwoman's word on Eddie's mixed history, and while he didn't disbelieve her, Eddie had a right to tell his own version of the story

[enigmaestro]

His eyebrows rose at the whoosh of crumpled cardboard. He glanced upwards, seeking the source of debris, catching quick sight of red-and-blue spandex despite the lingering shadows.

"Ah, of course." Eddie opened his arms, spreading his hands apart. "Who else would have such acute aim?"

Heroic types tended to have patrol routes, he knew. That idea alone was hardly enough to inspire anxiety. Nevertheless it was somewhat of a surprise to stumble upon Spider-Man, in his natural environment, so deep into the night. Curiosity colored Eddie's intention -- was this purely coincidence, or was something more intentional afoot? And what motivated the latter, if that were the case?

Eddie's neck muscles began to ache, from peering upwards.

"Care to join me?"

[incywincyhero]

"Shucks, Eddie, yer making me blush," Spider-Man drawled. His "Southern" accent wasn't even remotely passable, but then that was part of the fun so far as he was concerned.

He crossed the distance between them in one leap, bouncing up from his crouch to lean against the wall, carefully nonchalant. He knew Eddie would see right through it, of course, but there was no need to jump right into things. Whatever those things might be.

"Wouldn't have expected to see you hanging around this part of town at this time of night," he said, cheerfully enough. "Mostly it's just petty lowlifes and woebegone crimefighters like yours truly. Although this one time there was this drunken bachelor's party ... never seen so many bare legs in heels outside of pride parade ..." He trailed off with an expectant head tilt.

[enigmaestro]

"Your experiences seem as varied as they are colorful," he cooed, the smirk gentle on his lips. The tactic was familiar -- stalling, distracting with chit chat, playing the charisma while the real game laid with scoping for any clues of intent. Spider-Man was a versed hero, Eddie knew that much, and he figured this move came naturally.

Eddie was eager enough to play along.

"Do I have to fall into either category? And are they both exclusive?" His hands found his pockets, his mouth found a new grin. He was coy, playful, his eyes only on Spider-Man.

Watching.