I Pass Before the Sun, Yet Make No Shadow.
WHO: OPEN
WHERE: All around the City.
WHEN: June 16th, Noon.
WARNINGS: NPC violence. Lotsa carnage, heh.
SUMMARY: Riddler and Stark want to protect the City’s communication from nefarious forces. How? By shutting down every electronic device for two hours. This will enable a large group of people to congregate without certain she-hackers peering in. Game plan: city-wide information spread by word of mouth. And if chaos filters through? Well… Such is the price to pay for the greater good.
FORMAT: Either quicklog or paragraph will do.
It was a beautiful day. Streaks of pale clouds whispered across a stunningly blue sky, sun filtered past the towering buildings holding business. Everything was purposeful, functional, working. Orderly. How quaint.
Eleven fifty-five. Edward smiled to himself, tapping affectionately upon the face of his digital clock watch. Stark had the EMP and his team situated. Osborn had been informed of when and where to be in costume. Carnage was aware of the events about to unfold. Everything was in place. Everyone was accounted for. All Riddler had to do was wait as the second ticked away.
Eleven fifty-seven. Riddler peered off the ledge of the five-story building he had been pacing upon. He had employed various methods of communication-most, unsurprisingly, in riddle format-as his job during this small underground movement was both organizational and informational. He was to get out the word, non-electronically, about what to do in an emergency situation with that Grinbitch woman and her kin. He had employed some messengers throughout the City who were trustworthy (well, for the price he was paying them, they were) enough to mass-dispense cryptic fliers. Edward himself would be thrown among the fray, issuing out-what has Stark oh so charmingly called it?-the word. Stark got to take care of the fun criminal activity that would inevitably surge. All Edward had to do was avoid Carnage and Osborn and all would be well.
Eleven fifty-nine. Eddie smirked to himself. Just another move in his mental chessboard. He had been wary of employing Stark's aid, but the man had the right technology. And the right ability. Hopefully the billionaire's ego would obscure the fact that he was being used by a reformed detective. But even if Stark possessed the slightest of notions... It didn't matter. It was already too late. The wheels had been in motion for weeks now, and time was on Edward's side.
Twelve o'clock. Eddie's watch died. Time to play.
WHERE: All around the City.
WHEN: June 16th, Noon.
WARNINGS: NPC violence. Lotsa carnage, heh.
SUMMARY: Riddler and Stark want to protect the City’s communication from nefarious forces. How? By shutting down every electronic device for two hours. This will enable a large group of people to congregate without certain she-hackers peering in. Game plan: city-wide information spread by word of mouth. And if chaos filters through? Well… Such is the price to pay for the greater good.
FORMAT: Either quicklog or paragraph will do.
It was a beautiful day. Streaks of pale clouds whispered across a stunningly blue sky, sun filtered past the towering buildings holding business. Everything was purposeful, functional, working. Orderly. How quaint.
Eleven fifty-five. Edward smiled to himself, tapping affectionately upon the face of his digital clock watch. Stark had the EMP and his team situated. Osborn had been informed of when and where to be in costume. Carnage was aware of the events about to unfold. Everything was in place. Everyone was accounted for. All Riddler had to do was wait as the second ticked away.
Eleven fifty-seven. Riddler peered off the ledge of the five-story building he had been pacing upon. He had employed various methods of communication-most, unsurprisingly, in riddle format-as his job during this small underground movement was both organizational and informational. He was to get out the word, non-electronically, about what to do in an emergency situation with that Grinbitch woman and her kin. He had employed some messengers throughout the City who were trustworthy (well, for the price he was paying them, they were) enough to mass-dispense cryptic fliers. Edward himself would be thrown among the fray, issuing out-what has Stark oh so charmingly called it?-the word. Stark got to take care of the fun criminal activity that would inevitably surge. All Edward had to do was avoid Carnage and Osborn and all would be well.
Eleven fifty-nine. Eddie smirked to himself. Just another move in his mental chessboard. He had been wary of employing Stark's aid, but the man had the right technology. And the right ability. Hopefully the billionaire's ego would obscure the fact that he was being used by a reformed detective. But even if Stark possessed the slightest of notions... It didn't matter. It was already too late. The wheels had been in motion for weeks now, and time was on Edward's side.
Twelve o'clock. Eddie's watch died. Time to play.