[Lucien, a normal human being.......... There are metas in Arkham, too, by the way. And normies in Blackgate. Y'all just didn't see them.
In any case, their conversation is interrupted by the sound of the door opening and then slamming shut once again. Their two friends from earlier have entered the room the room; the "stranger" has a tablet tucked under their arm, while the "dick" rests his hands on his pistols. They will move to stand in front of the group, quietly examining them for a moment before the dick speaks up:]
You are awake? That is excellent news. [There is a bit of an accent here. His voice is deep.] Then, good morning and congratulations. Your country has called upon your services and now, you will answer that call.
[Are any of them even American. Like, even in the AU.]
We will get you your green card. [A beat.] More importantly, this isn't optional. If you do not serve this country, then you will die here in this room.
lucien's jaw is tightening so much that he can't speak anything else, because he is probably very aware that the next words out of his mouth would be then I'll die and maybe he's not so insane that he doesn't understand that's a bad idea. ]
Interesting, maybe. But necessary. You are villains, and as villains, you are uniquely qualified to do the jobs the government, the Justice League, and its affiliates, cannot touch. Consider yourselves assets. Of course, as assets, you will be given the equipment you need to carry out your orders... If you do well, then in exchange, you will get your green cards and a reduced sentence. We have connections. It will be done.
[A pause, for dramatic effect perhaps.]
... But if that's not incentive enough, then consider this. Do you feel that pain in the back of your heads? While you were asleep, we had our surgeons insert a bomb inside your skulls. This bomb can be remotely detonated by our, ah, "god," from anywhere in the world at any time. If you run, you die. If you turn down this gracious offer, you die. If you fail your mission, you die. If you allow my colleague and I to die, then... well. You get the point, no?
[ I genuinely wish I could say she was like. More upset but even normal Rodion would just be like 'this sucks' at best.
She doesn't answer but she is like, looking at the dick's outfit and thinking about what kind of gunslinger wears a target mark right on their chest. Should've gone with solid traffic cone orange, bud. ]
[Imagine if I said that wasn't actually Link. Imagine if.
The dick nods, and you get the impression that he is smiling under that mask.]
Yes. It's good that you are quick to catch on. [As for Dion's question:] Beloved? No. They are too caught up in their own sense of morality to do what needs to be done. The Justice League wouldn't dirty their hands the jobs you will be doing, despite their necessity. You are villains, and you will be doing what you do best.
[Intuitively, the four of them will have some knowledge of the Justice League. They are the group of heroes that set the standards for all other superhero groups out there. Many young heroes aspire to join their ranks. Squeaky clean reputations. Beloved by all. Stupidly anti-murder. And also, a giant pain in your asses. Half a year ago, wasn't there a man in a fursuit who arrested you...? A member of the Justice League? It would be easier to remember his name if he hadn't knocked you around so much. Fucking superheroes and their excessive use of violence.]
[ yeah its fucking crazy how that guy regularly maims and disables people but somehow seems to never get in trouble for it. ]
Well the only thing I’ve ever done wrong is failing to itemize properly and forgetting once or twice that I had a large item under the cart at the self-checkout, so my suggestion would be get this damned thing out of my head and hire H&R Bl*ck, you contemptible arse.
Spare us the diatribe and get to the point. We can hardly choose death or cooperation without hearing what it is that you need us "villains" to do. [ imagine it's this whole speech and their task is to file taxes ]
[ Imagine feeling bad for crimes. Except in this universe that pawnbroker incident really was just an accident. Honestly she has tuned half of this out. ]
[Imagine if the rest of the CYOA was fighting H&R Block.
Anyway— It seems like the dick is about to say something again, but then he pauses as if listening to something. The stranger grunts and shows the group the tablet that they've been carrying around since they entered the room, which is now unlocked and... live?
A symbol briefly appears, before it's replaced by the shadowy silhouette of a woman.]
You're done talking, Deadshot? Good. Then let me get to the point: Twenty hours ago, while you were all eating porridge or doing... whatever the fuck that was you were doing in the bathroom, we detected the beginnings of zombie activity in Gotham. The dead rising from their graves and spilling out into the streets of Gotham. Currently, we've traced the source to Bristol. [Which, in their AU memories, they all know is a neighborhood that's about 15 past the city line for Gotham. It's also, like, the bougiest neighborhood. Rich assholes with big ol' manors only.
The screen flickers to show a grainy security cam version of this, taken by a drone at a jazz festival. Cannot believe a zombie invasion ruined Jazzapajizza, the most hyped Jazz festival of the century, replacing Jazzfest which was cancelled last year after someone accidentally killed one of the lead musicians of a featured band during a live stage production of (looks at smudged writing) Hamlet........ Damn.]
We believe the four of you are uniquely qualified to deal with this threat. And more importantly, you've still got a pulse unlike all the other poor fuckers who've tried to put an end to this madness so far.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Harshed the vibes real quick with that one, huh.
[ Fair enough. ]
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In any case, their conversation is interrupted by the sound of the door opening and then slamming shut once again. Their two friends from earlier have entered the room the room; the "stranger" has a tablet tucked under their arm, while the "dick" rests his hands on his pistols. They will move to stand in front of the group, quietly examining them for a moment before the dick speaks up:]
You are awake? That is excellent news. [There is a bit of an accent here. His voice is deep.] Then, good morning and congratulations. Your country has called upon your services and now, you will answer that call.
[Are any of them even American. Like, even in the AU.]
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I'm not American, gobshite.
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[ can you even get one of those after going to prison ]
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[ can they leave ]
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[ We're actually doing a really good job of being IC to the Suicide Squad I think. ]
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The dick looks Dion right in the eyes.]
We will get you your green card. [A beat.] More importantly, this isn't optional. If you do not serve this country, then you will die here in this room.
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lucien's jaw is tightening so much that he can't speak anything else, because he is probably very aware that the next words out of his mouth would be then I'll die and maybe he's not so insane that he doesn't understand that's a bad idea. ]
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And what is the nature of this arrangement? Are we to come as dogs each time you call for us?
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Interesting that you would go so far as to recruit "criminals" such as us to a cause.
[ can't mean anything good for them. ]
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What about my kite?
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Interesting, maybe. But necessary. You are villains, and as villains, you are uniquely qualified to do the jobs the government, the Justice League, and its affiliates, cannot touch. Consider yourselves assets. Of course, as assets, you will be given the equipment you need to carry out your orders... If you do well, then in exchange, you will get your green cards and a reduced sentence. We have connections. It will be done.
[A pause, for dramatic effect perhaps.]
... But if that's not incentive enough, then consider this. Do you feel that pain in the back of your heads? While you were asleep, we had our surgeons insert a bomb inside your skulls. This bomb can be remotely detonated by our, ah, "god," from anywhere in the world at any time. If you run, you die. If you turn down this gracious offer, you die. If you fail your mission, you die. If you allow my colleague and I to die, then... well. You get the point, no?
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Carrot. Stick. Got it. Fuck you.
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The point being that we stay under your boot or die, yes.
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She doesn't answer but she is like, looking at the dick's outfit and thinking about what kind of gunslinger wears a target mark right on their chest. Should've gone with solid traffic cone orange, bud. ]
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But, well, Dion is pretty furious about this and || this close to asking to asking to speak to the manager, but he manages to restrain himself. ]
What a wonderful chance at redemption. What is it that you require of us then, that your beloved Justice League cannot accomplish?
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The dick nods, and you get the impression that he is smiling under that mask.]
Yes. It's good that you are quick to catch on. [As for Dion's question:] Beloved? No. They are too caught up in their own sense of morality to do what needs to be done. The Justice League wouldn't dirty their hands the jobs you will be doing, despite their necessity. You are villains, and you will be doing what you do best.
[Intuitively, the four of them will have some knowledge of the Justice League. They are the group of heroes that set the standards for all other superhero groups out there. Many young heroes aspire to join their ranks. Squeaky clean reputations. Beloved by all. Stupidly anti-murder. And also, a giant pain in your asses. Half a year ago, wasn't there a man in a fursuit who arrested you...? A member of the Justice League? It would be easier to remember his name if he hadn't knocked you around so much. Fucking superheroes and their excessive use of violence.]
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Well the only thing I’ve ever done wrong is failing to itemize properly and forgetting once or twice that I had a large item under the cart at the self-checkout, so my suggestion would be get this damned thing out of my head and hire H&R Bl*ck, you contemptible arse.
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Except that he 100% accepts the burden of killing his fellow actor, and intends to repent for his sins. Catholic Alec Baldwin. ]
... I would rather we not wreak further havoc and destruction accomplishing what you ask of us either.
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Spare us the diatribe and get to the point. We can hardly choose death or cooperation without hearing what it is that you need us "villains" to do. [ imagine it's this whole speech and their task is to file taxes ]
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What fish guy said. You talk way too much.
cw: zombies, emeto
Anyway— It seems like the dick is about to say something again, but then he pauses as if listening to something. The stranger grunts and shows the group the tablet that they've been carrying around since they entered the room, which is now unlocked and... live?
A symbol briefly appears, before it's replaced by the shadowy silhouette of a woman.]
You're done talking, Deadshot? Good. Then let me get to the point: Twenty hours ago, while you were all eating porridge or doing... whatever the fuck that was you were doing in the bathroom, we detected the beginnings of zombie activity in Gotham. The dead rising from their graves and spilling out into the streets of Gotham. Currently, we've traced the source to Bristol. [Which, in their AU memories, they all know is a neighborhood that's about 15 past the city line for Gotham. It's also, like, the bougiest neighborhood. Rich assholes with big ol' manors only.
The screen flickers to show a grainy security cam version of this, taken by a drone at a jazz festival. Cannot believe a zombie invasion ruined Jazzapajizza, the most hyped Jazz festival of the century, replacing Jazzfest which was cancelled last year after someone accidentally killed one of the lead musicians of a featured band during a live stage production of (looks at smudged writing) Hamlet........ Damn.]
We believe the four of you are uniquely qualified to deal with this threat. And more importantly, you've still got a pulse unlike all the other poor fuckers who've tried to put an end to this madness so far.
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Fine. Get me out of this. My nose is itchy.
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... Do we have any manner of defence against their [ uh ] vomit?
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...We just have to slay these creatures?
[ seems simple enough, actually? getting broken out of jail to beat things up? ]
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