And then there were Secret Two
WHO: Deadshot and Catman
WHERE: THESE TWO STREETS
WHEN: Not long after Catman's mildly daring escape from the booby hatch
WARNINGS: Coarse language
SUMMARY: Time for Floyd to meet up with the only person here he gives a damn about.
FORMAT: Whatever
Floyd Lawton is still learning the streets of this ridiculous holding pen for some computer's indentured servants. It's a big city, feels a little New Yorkish with a hint of... what, Chicago? Philadelphia? Eh, who cares.
Right now, he's got a black pleather jacket draped over some street clothes he's picked up during his first few days here - jeans and a button-down plaid thing, reflecting his general lack of personal taste and determination never to develop one. All clothing needs to do is provide warmth and conceal weapons. If you're the kinda broad impressed by clothing, you're also likely the kinda broad who will sell herself to a guy for a shiny necklace.
Then again, Blake letting him borrow a suit couldn't have hurt how things wound up going with Jeannette. Then again, she was foot-fondling his junk the day they met, so that's probably a crock.
So now he's in some alien place or dimension or some stupid crap like that, and he's gotta make do until their stupid robot host decides to pop him back home. Which could wind up being some yo-yo crap forever.
At least Blake's here. And he's out of the asylum, where he was put for some reason. Time to figure out the next step.
WHERE: THESE TWO STREETS
WHEN: Not long after Catman's mildly daring escape from the booby hatch
WARNINGS: Coarse language
SUMMARY: Time for Floyd to meet up with the only person here he gives a damn about.
FORMAT: Whatever
Floyd Lawton is still learning the streets of this ridiculous holding pen for some computer's indentured servants. It's a big city, feels a little New Yorkish with a hint of... what, Chicago? Philadelphia? Eh, who cares.
Right now, he's got a black pleather jacket draped over some street clothes he's picked up during his first few days here - jeans and a button-down plaid thing, reflecting his general lack of personal taste and determination never to develop one. All clothing needs to do is provide warmth and conceal weapons. If you're the kinda broad impressed by clothing, you're also likely the kinda broad who will sell herself to a guy for a shiny necklace.
Then again, Blake letting him borrow a suit couldn't have hurt how things wound up going with Jeannette. Then again, she was foot-fondling his junk the day they met, so that's probably a crock.
So now he's in some alien place or dimension or some stupid crap like that, and he's gotta make do until their stupid robot host decides to pop him back home. Which could wind up being some yo-yo crap forever.
At least Blake's here. And he's out of the asylum, where he was put for some reason. Time to figure out the next step.