Post by sincereagape on Feb 6, 2011 8:57:59 GMT -5
The Ventriloquist was waiting. About an hour ago he had met with one of Carmine Falcone’s fixers, Smiley Sam, who provided him with a used brown Henry J Motorcar and a seconded handed tommy gun. Both had not been exactly what he had requested but they would be adequate enough for the next 72 hour time period. The car ran and the tommy gun as able to fire over 50 rounds in 10 seconds. That’s what counts.
Earlier in the day he had the conflict with Poison Ivy. She had humiliated him. Originally he was planning to go along with her edicts but for once he wanted to fight. He was going to scratch and claw, and try to go against his natural inclination to be beaten by one punch to the face. It had taken him hours of contemplation to reach this point. Spending time writing his thoughts down with the black paint had helped him come to this conclusion. The Ventriloquist needed to establish himself as a Gotham City crime lord who was on the same level as names like Falcone, Thorne, Two-Face, and the Penguin. The first step towards achieving that goal was to overcome his own inadequacies which had been exposed by that ‘upstart hussy.’ With Rhino and the boys locked up in Blackgate Penitentiary, the Ventriloquist was in need of fresh muscle. And not just any set of mooks, but an individual who could help him make a STATEMENT.
Calling in many favors, he was able to contact the Calculator aka the largest information broker and number one fence for the ‘super villains’ of the world. The Calculator, a true professional, had listened to his plea, but was hesitant to grant the request…
“He may be busy.”
“Not sure if he would be interested.”
Were some of the comments made by the Calculator. But persistence and timing seemed to be on his side.
“I’ll give him a call Arnold. Only because I like you. Well if you look at this. You might be in luck. There are rumors floating around that he is in Gotham.”
Deathstroke the Terminator in Gotham City. What a stroke of good fortune! Karma gong his way? Or was it karma going against his enemies? The Ventriloquist had provided the Calculator a time and place to give to Deathstroke, 10:00 PM at the old Gotham City East car junkyard.
An open isolated where no one would interfere with their business. The junkyard was filled with stacked rows of picked up automobiles that had seen their best days behind them. In the near distance there was a large magnetic crane and control board that towered over the area like the Space Needle over Seattle. By the crane was the main car compactor.
The Ventriloquist was at an intersection where four main roads split in four different directions. Wearing a black and white tuxedo, he had improved his appearance greatly from a few hours earlier. In his left hand was Scarface. His monkey wrench was resting on an oil drum to his right, and ready to be picked up in case of trouble. Likewise, the tommy gun was near, resting in the front seat of the Henry J Motorcar. The car’s engine was softly humming and the headlights were the main source of illumination in the surrounding space. Lying in the front seat was the tommy-gun.
The Ventriloquist continued to wait. He had arrived just in time. Now he would see if Deathstroke had received the message from the Calculator.
“Thi—Thi—Think he’ll show Mr. Scarface?”
“Ah’m hoping Dummy. Ah’m hoping…”
Earlier in the day he had the conflict with Poison Ivy. She had humiliated him. Originally he was planning to go along with her edicts but for once he wanted to fight. He was going to scratch and claw, and try to go against his natural inclination to be beaten by one punch to the face. It had taken him hours of contemplation to reach this point. Spending time writing his thoughts down with the black paint had helped him come to this conclusion. The Ventriloquist needed to establish himself as a Gotham City crime lord who was on the same level as names like Falcone, Thorne, Two-Face, and the Penguin. The first step towards achieving that goal was to overcome his own inadequacies which had been exposed by that ‘upstart hussy.’ With Rhino and the boys locked up in Blackgate Penitentiary, the Ventriloquist was in need of fresh muscle. And not just any set of mooks, but an individual who could help him make a STATEMENT.
Calling in many favors, he was able to contact the Calculator aka the largest information broker and number one fence for the ‘super villains’ of the world. The Calculator, a true professional, had listened to his plea, but was hesitant to grant the request…
“He may be busy.”
“Not sure if he would be interested.”
Were some of the comments made by the Calculator. But persistence and timing seemed to be on his side.
“I’ll give him a call Arnold. Only because I like you. Well if you look at this. You might be in luck. There are rumors floating around that he is in Gotham.”
Deathstroke the Terminator in Gotham City. What a stroke of good fortune! Karma gong his way? Or was it karma going against his enemies? The Ventriloquist had provided the Calculator a time and place to give to Deathstroke, 10:00 PM at the old Gotham City East car junkyard.
An open isolated where no one would interfere with their business. The junkyard was filled with stacked rows of picked up automobiles that had seen their best days behind them. In the near distance there was a large magnetic crane and control board that towered over the area like the Space Needle over Seattle. By the crane was the main car compactor.
The Ventriloquist was at an intersection where four main roads split in four different directions. Wearing a black and white tuxedo, he had improved his appearance greatly from a few hours earlier. In his left hand was Scarface. His monkey wrench was resting on an oil drum to his right, and ready to be picked up in case of trouble. Likewise, the tommy gun was near, resting in the front seat of the Henry J Motorcar. The car’s engine was softly humming and the headlights were the main source of illumination in the surrounding space. Lying in the front seat was the tommy-gun.
The Ventriloquist continued to wait. He had arrived just in time. Now he would see if Deathstroke had received the message from the Calculator.
“Thi—Thi—Think he’ll show Mr. Scarface?”
“Ah’m hoping Dummy. Ah’m hoping…”