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Post by revan on Nov 9, 2010 13:32:46 GMT -5
Bruce Wayne. Millionaire, Playboy, CEO. And soon to be a cold, bullet-filled corpse.
Manuvering around the event was easier said than done. A new face amongst the rich and privilaged is a rare occasion, and to most of the current attendees had never laid eyes on Slade. The few who knew him from his 'profession' greeted him enthusiastically... and demanded he stay and chat for awhile. A half-dozen faked stories later, and eventually Slade managed to excuse himself from the main body of people.
To be perfectly honest, Slade couldn't care less about the event or its purpose. Sure, saving the rainforests was a good and noble goal, but Slade was only concerned with his contract at this point. And that contract demanded he come here, if only to survey the manor interior. And despite his access to the blue prints, Slade preffered observation to drawings. In his experience, blueprints could steer you entirely wrong, way to often.
As he took note of the manor's layout, Slade kept his eye out for his target, Bruce Wayne. The man had the reputation for being mysterious and extremely hard to find at his own parties. This worried Slade little, instead he enjoyed this little challenge. A covert manhunt through the party would be entertaining, and so Slade decided that, once done checking out the layout, that would be exactly what he would do.
Walking past another group of people, Slade noticied a woman off to the side, alone. Slade let out a sigh of relief. He needed to ask someone if they had seen Wayne, but he didn't exactly relish the thought of bursting into another group's conversation. A single person was so much easier to get answers out of.. and for some reason, Slade had the feeling that this woman was slightly different then the others present.
As he approached the woman, Slade noticied she was admiring a pair of bookends a bit more than the situation warrented. Apparently, someone was either an avid bookend collector, or a thief. He chuckled at the latter idea. A thief invited to a Wayne Enterprises-sponsered parties? Extremely unlikely.
Slade coughed as he approached. In his experience, annoucing the presence of yourself when you have an eyepatch was quite neccessary... people tended to freak when they turn around to that behind him, no matter how handsome the man carrying the patch was. Slade smiled. "I never did understand the purpose behind owning something so expensive, when the item itself is so... well, for lack of a better word, useless."
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Last Edit: Nov 9, 2010 19:03:02 GMT -5 by k
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Post by k on Nov 9, 2010 18:55:15 GMT -5
[/i] a night off. Not for Batgirl. She knew she ought to relax and chill out a bit, but it was far easier said than done. Tonight, Babs was angry and snappy, not because she didn't want to be at the party, but because she was generally frustrated about everything right now. She'd already been rather snarky with her father in the car over, and now she was regretting it. She watched Jim shake hands with Gotham's finest and she scanned the room. There was no denying the event was for a worthy cause - Babs knew that well. She was a smart girl, she knew only too well the detrimental effect the human world was having on nature. Never the less, it simply wasn't Babs' scene - she was just here to show support for her father, otherwise she'd be in her room studying hard. She was dressed in a light green silk dress, her fiery red hair drawn up into a bun. It was all too obvious Babs was one of the youngest in the room - most of those swanning about were rich elderly men, their trophy wives, swinging off their arms and giggling with a glass of champagne sloshing down their expensive designer dresses. If they weren't the elderly side, they were young women - perhaps only five or so years older than Babs herself, possibly daughters of the men. They were on constant alert, darting from social group to the other, ready to swoop on one of the unsuspecting bachelors. Babs gave a heavy sigh and began to wander the room. She was trying her best to appear calm, but inside she was a wreck. What if Bruce's absence was because something was going down? What if she was mingling and socialising - not that she was really doing much of that - and she was missing something important. She shook her paranoia from her. Bruce was just away being "himself". Enough about Batman and her vigilante life. Relax, Babs told herself, everything was under control. She was about to escape onto the balcony when she found herself cornered by what she could only describe as a gaggle of trophy wives who began to fuss over her. Great - "oh honestly, you're a seventeen year old daughter of an established figure in Gotham, why on earth are you not engaged yet?" Babs smiled politely and declined whatever invitation they were offering, mostly to meet their completely single and very eligible rich sons. No thanks, Babs thought, I can think of a million better ways to die than being bored to death by your old boy network sons - all of whom were probably way into their thirties and far too old for her. Babs told herself not to assume or stereotype; she was sure they were all nice men, but she certainly wasn't looking. Babs finally managed to excuse herself from the babbling bevy of Gothamite women and moved away - far away. She'd already spotted Vicki Vale - resident reporter at Wayne Enterprises. She didn't know much about her, but enough to figure she didn't fancy talking to her. She was often seen hounding her dad after a case. She seemed involved in a talk between two other women, both of which struck Babs as familar - probably through other social events - she watched as one of the women eyed the slightly more valuable items in the house, one of the bookends. Shaking her head at the sheer arduous nature of the charity event - so false, almost every cheque placed into the fund was lip service, not altruism. At the very least they were putting money toward an incredibly important issue, so Babs chose to see the bright side of it all. She collapsed in one of the seats, hopefully hidden away enough to avoid any more confrontations by Gotham's leading matchmakers, but close enough to listen to the conversations around her.[/ul]
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Last Edit: Nov 9, 2010 19:24:57 GMT -5 by k
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Post by vicki on Nov 9, 2010 19:18:54 GMT -5
Vicki's blue eyes flicker up to the flower in question, a startling snow-white in contrast to the vivid scarlet of the other woman's hair. "I see..." she replies, a mite disappointed that she can't pick up a bottle of the alluring scent herself. "Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Doctor Isley." There's a very faint bell ringing in the back of the reporter's mind at the name, but any actual recognition is interrupted by the abrupt, wordless departure of their third party. Peering quizzically after Ms. Kyle for a few moments as she wanders off to the stacked bookshelf nearby, Vicki then returns her gaze to Pamela.
"Apparently the books are more entertaining," she muses half to herself, lips pursed. There's little mistaking the slight edge to her tone, especially after their exchange so far. "If you'll excuse me, Dr. Isley, I'm going to continue my search for the ever elusive Bruce Wayne. Enjoy the party." Turning to take her leave, she doesn't notice the unfamiliar man who's since approached Selina, but she does spy another vaguely familiar (and rather young) face among the crowd. It takes her a moment to place it as she files through her journalistic memory, but it finally clicks. And despite any hopes otherwise, she makes a beeline for the now-seated Barbara, who's only just recently escaped the clutches of a gaggle of gossipy Gothamites.
"...you're Gordon's girl, aren't you?" Unfortunately, even though she can connect the face, any name that might have been mentioned in the past is temporarily forgotten. Glancing briefly around the room, she inquires, unknowingly fulfilling her assumed role as a newshound: "Is Jim here?" Not that she's intentionally meaning to brush off the teen as nothing but a direct link to the commissioner, but it no dobut comes off that way regardless. Realizing a half-beat later her lack of manners, she turns back to the younger redhead to extend a more polite greeting in addendum. "You're both doing well, I hope?"
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Avalikia
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Post by Avalikia on Nov 9, 2010 19:52:05 GMT -5
Admiring the bookends for only a moment longer, Selina knew how long was too long in terms of gawking, and she had went a bit past that limit. But the stone lions did bring a half-smile to her lips, even if such a thing was a bit.. below her to steal. Had they been made of gold or another precious stone they would've already been in a bag, conspicuously of course. Stone bookends though? Especially those belonging to Bruce Wayne. Much less when she was drawing attention to herself be being segregated from the rest of the party.
Pulling her eyes from the small statues, Selina let out a half exhausted, half irritated sigh and adjusted the top of her arm-length gloves before she heard the cough behind her. It wasn't like a hacking sickly cough but more of one to draw attention to someone. Still, a cough was a cough, and she sneered a bit before she turned around. Expecting it to be one of the many older, rich men that had rather invaded the home, it was instead a man who was still older, but he didn't look to be the wealthy type. Not with that eyepatch.
Selina had seen enough in her lifetime and had enough common sense to know that a man with an eyepatch wasn't anything to be concerned over. So he had an accident? It wasn't frightening. If anything, it was interesting. Smiling back, the short-haired woman gave a shrug and looked back over her shoulder at the bookends. "I don't think they would've been too expensive. Only stone, after all." She said, sounding disappointed in the medium the sculper had chosen. Yes, if they had been gold..
The man himself did look familiar, like she'd seen his face on television or something before. Then again, there were a lot of people here who could very plausibly be on television for doing nothing, so it didn't surprise her very much, and she didn't address it. "Some people like to show off their wealth. As you can see." She said with a smirk, and held out her hand as if showcasing the grand hall they were all mingling in.
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Last Edit: Nov 9, 2010 20:15:34 GMT -5 by k
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Post by k on Nov 9, 2010 20:13:35 GMT -5
[/b] Babs asked. Of course she was - almost everyone in Gotham knew Vicki... and Babs wondered if an invite had indeed dropped into Vicki's possession, or whether she'd invited herself. Perhaps she had been invited, with the knowledge she'd report on the wild playboy Wayne... Babs wasn't sure, nor did she really care. She resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow when Vicki referred to her father as 'Jim', she didn't realise Vicki was on first-name basis. "Yes, my father's here; and we're both quite well, thank you... I hope you're relaxing plenty," Babs smiled. "Chasing stories from my father must be tiring," she said slyly. Babs was almost surprised to find her statement at least half sincere - in spite of Vicki snooping for a spin, Babs couldn't bring herself to be completely meanspirited.[/ul]
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Post by Pamela Isley - Poison Ivy on Nov 10, 2010 0:48:38 GMT -5
"Pleased to meet you too," Pamela responds insincerely, glancing in Selina's direction when Vicki does. Ah, going to sneak away like that, is she? But, moments later, her own reporter-ditching tactic succeeds - give them nothing to work with and away they go. "Good luck," she offers with a smile as Vicki excuses herself, though it twists into a smirk once her back is turned. All too easy.
Of course, that leaves her by herself, so she starts to scan the crowd again for someone else to greet or meet. The gentleman talking to Selina may be one, but only if she doesn't spot someone better first - it's bad manners to interrupt a gentleman who is talking to a lady unless you want to steal him for yourself, and if they're talking about books then she's hardly interested. Fortunately she's interrupted by someone passing around more drinks, which makes this lull in the string of conversations much more enjoyable.
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Post by vicki on Nov 10, 2010 9:19:56 GMT -5
To Vicki Vale, the press pass in her purse is her invitation, a golden ticket that grants her access to just about anywhere she wants to be - regardless of whether or not others want her there as well. She wouldn't necessarily disagree with the claims that her job has become her life, but she certainly hasn't gotten this far by putting her career on the backburner.
"That's right," Vicki answers in the affirmative, offering Barbara one of her winning (and well-rehearsed) smiles. Although their relationship was entirely professional, the strawberry blonde was wily enough to assume a more familiar association with the commissioner (especially at her insistence that he call her 'Vicki', not 'Ms. Vale'). Though apparently not familiar enough to remember the specifics of the girl she assumed was Gordon's biological daughter. At the coy underhanded comment from the younger teen, Vicki can't help but chuckle in mild amusement. In truth, it wasn't much different from Selina's own vocalized opinion, but there was something about the manner in which it was delivered that made the difference. Not to mention Ms. Kyle was an adult.
"Mm. Yes. Well, the city never sleeps, and the news doesn't take a break." Indeed, with her own personal police scanner in stock, the Gotham City Police Department had gotten rather used to Ms. Vale's arrival not long after some big newsworthy event had occurred; despite her persistence, Vicki was careful not to intentionally interfere with the pursuit of justice. After all, she benefitted from their work just as much as any other resident of the city. "I only hope that my work helps to make your father's job just the tiniest bit easier...if just one successful bust occurs as a result of a tip called in from a story I've run, well, that's one less criminal running loose on the streets."
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Post by revan on Nov 10, 2010 19:36:55 GMT -5
Slade smiled when the woman turned, with not even a flicker of regard for his patch. At last, someone who didn't feel the urge to sit there and stare. It was quite refreshing, indeed. Her words in regards to the bookends were sound, and he shrugged. Yes, perhaps they weren't too expensive. But in the hands of a millionaire, even the most cheaply made things tend to have outrageous price tags. And outrageous price tags were simply that, outrageous.
"Maybe. But in my experience, its not always the material used that makes the pricetag, instead something else. Though its hardly worth discussing, I suppose." And indeed it was. Bookends did not make for interesting topics. At least, stone bookends didn't.
Chuckling, Slade nodded in agreement to the woman's statement. "Yes, I do see. Mr. Wayne defiently prefers to showcase it. I, personally, think its a waste of time... but then, I'm not blessed with the near limitless spending abilities as out mutual friend."
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Last Edit: Nov 10, 2010 20:04:02 GMT -5 by k
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Post by k on Nov 10, 2010 20:01:35 GMT -5
[/b] Babs said, speaking slightly lower and far more selective with her choice of words. "However, he's off-duty right now," Babs said. Again, like her and Vicki, her father was never really 'off-duty', he was always on call. Always leaving in the middle of meals or during something important. "And I'd appreciate it if he remained that way for the rest of the night," Babs told her. She had a nagging feeling something would arise - so she'd be leaving the party too. Ducking out on important events because of something slightly more important was a bit of Gordon trait in the family. "It is Ms. Vale, right?" Babs asked. She realised how horrible and insensitive her question had just sounded. Well, smooth move, way to go Babs, she thought. She certainly hadn't intended to insult Vicki nor insinuate anything, and she hoped she'd pick up on that. Vicki was probably good at understanding inpretations - but she was probably very good at putting her own spin on things too. She could make Babs' words sound incredibly cruel if she chose too. Babs had managed to turn the conversation in a very dire direction - it was doomed before it began. But she was a seventeen year old girl - Vicki probably wrote her off as nothing more than that, probably also a complete fool. "Will, erm... will you be running a story on the Charity event tonight? I think it's a wonderful cause," Babs said quickly.[/ul]
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Avalikia
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Post by Avalikia on Nov 11, 2010 1:22:41 GMT -5
Even Selina would admit that talking about miniature stone bookends was quite dull. Their purpose, however, wasn't what drew her attention to them. The fact that they were detailed sculptures of lions is what had her gawking. Useless or not, they were pretty to look at, and the subject just so happened to be contained in her favorite group of animal. Besides, if there was something more interesting to look at, something else that had any feline depicted on it within the vacinity, it would've had her attention too. But it would seem that Bruce wayne wasn't exactly a cat lover. At least, he didn't showcase it in so-called useless trinkets, like she would.
Giving a shrug, Selina nodded her head and rolled her eyes. What billionaires did with their money didn't concern her in the least. If they wanted to spend inflated prices on something they definitely could get for cheaper, then they could go right on ahead, Wayne included. In fact, it was good for business. Her business, especially. Selling stolen items, particularly jewels or other precious things that rich people went nuts over, and spent hundreds of thousands of dollars on if they happened to be in a really greedy mood. Jewels that, if she sold legitimately would sell for only tens of thousands. The black market and the chance for inflation of prices, for Selina, was a wonderous thing.
The notion that this man was a 'friend' of Bruce's had to just be an oddly chosen word by the eyepatch wearing man. He didn't look like the 'friend' type, either. Even if she wasn't afraid of him, she could imagine others were. Some people had a friendly air about them, he didn't. Then again, Bruce knew everyone in this town and a lot of folks outside of it as well. Chances were that he did actually know this guy. Smirking, Selina took a step back, half-turning away from the man. "I wouldn't really call him my friend. Acquaintance would be more appropriate." Unfolding her arms, she gave the man a strange sort of look, and tilted her head slightly to the side. "How do you know Mr. Wayne, if you don't mind my asking?"
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Post by revan on Nov 11, 2010 2:16:18 GMT -5
Slade smiled. Something told the mercenary that this woman highly doubted friendship existed between himself and Wayne. Which was correct, their was none, though he had meant it more as a sarcastic exaggeration then a literal truth. Though, even then, it was an extreme exaggeration. Slade had only met Bruce Wayne once, and that had been during one of his side contracts, acting as muscle for a wealthy buisness man Wayne had dealt with. But, that one time he met him, had made Slade confident Wayne was a jerk...which was the only reason why he had no issue assassinating the guy.
But that was not public info. So, Slade gave his professional reason. "How do I know Mr. Wayne? Thats quite easy, actually. Mr. Wayne had originally contracted me for a few buisness related ventures. Nothing big mind you, I'm not a true buisness man, like Mr. Wayne. But it was a substantial enough tradeoff that we kept the deal."
Total bogus, sure, but no one really cared enough to find out the truth. And any one who did care had no life, so it wasn't exactly risky lying like that. In any case, it worked for a reason. In fact, it was almost worth making true. Slade's side job produced enough cash to warrent a offer to Wayne Enterprises. Maybe Mr. Bruce's successor would be willing to work out a deal between them.
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Post by vicki on Nov 11, 2010 9:19:26 GMT -5
"Oh, of course," Vicki replies with a dissmissive wave of her hand, tossing her copper-colored hair back over her shoulder. "I wasn't planning on interrogating him or anything like that. Just wanted to say hello." Which is mostly true -- though if the conversation had happened to turn (or been steered) towards any recent advances in current investigations, well, she certainly wouldn't have objected.
At the clarifying question from the younger girl, Vicki's brow raises in a not-so-subtle display of mild offense. "Yes. It is." Hmph. The curt answer is delivered from between pursed lips, though that's the extent of the journalist's obviously displayed temper. After all, she didn't pick up on any intentional malice in Barbara's tone, and the quick follow-up question seems to be an attempt to cover up the original faux pas. Can she really blame the silly girl for not having the same skillful way with words that she does, after all? Glancing down at her groomed and painted nails for a moment as though to show she's not bothered in the slightest by foolish insinuations from a mere teenaged girl, she answers simply once more: "And yes, I will be."
Deciding after a brief moment that her own behavior is no better than the demeanor she's attributed to the younger teen, Vicki adds a little more onto her explanation, repeating what she had told Ms. Kyle earlier. "I'd hoped to catch Bruce Wayne himself for a few words of endorsement, but as you can see, he's nowhere to be found, even at his own party." As per the usual course of events.
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Avalikia
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Post by Avalikia on Nov 11, 2010 12:01:39 GMT -5
"I see." Selina said boredly, not figuring the man for the business type. It struck her suddenly that she didn't even know his name, and she turned back momentarily to face him, and hold out her hand. "My name is Selina Kyle, by the way. I didn't get yours?" The party was losing her interest, and this way, she could apologize to a name for leaving abrubtly.
Even when 'off-duty,' Selina was cautious about giving out her name to just anyone. But the few short phrases that'd been exchanged between her and the so-called business man were decent enough that she felt comfortable introducing herself. Besides, manners would dictate that she should've done that previously anyway.
Whether or not he was a real businessman; and she did have her doubts about that, it was none of her business. Even if he wasn't, she was sure that she didn't have anything to worry about. But there she went again, being too suspicious of the motives of strangers.
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Last Edit: Nov 11, 2010 13:19:25 GMT -5 by k
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Post by k on Nov 11, 2010 13:15:22 GMT -5
[/b] Babs smiled. She tried to push the side of her that disliked Vicki away somewhat, so she could try to forget who the woman was - she wasn't a reporter, she was just a woman she was chatting to. That was all. "Probably out buying a hotel or something," Babs joked, and rolled her eyes in mock exasperation. Babs felt somewhat awkward in Vicki's presence. It wasn't that she wouldn't be able to hold some kind of conversation with her, it was simply the fact she knew Vicki was writing her off for exactly what she was - just some teenager. Babs glanced around, spotting various off-duty police officers her father worked with. A nauseous sensation began to build up inside of her, a dark dread in the pit of her stomach. All these cops here, Bruce expected to make an appearance... this momentary tranquility wouldn't last, and that was what made them so precious. Her father was bound to be on call soon, and then she'd be away too. She knew she'd been donning her costume later, no matter how tired she was, to patrol relentlessly. The luxury of sleep wasn't something Babs found she needed much of anymore. She turned to look at Vicki again, and wondered how to phrase this without sounding intrusive. "Are you following any stories right now, Ms Vale?" Babs asked, playing with some strands of her copper hair, trying to appear as naive as possible. Babs wanted to play off of Vicki's assumption she was just a silly little teenager now. But she was hoping Vicki wouldn't be too on edge about talking to a seventeen year old girl about stuff like that, and was sure Vicki would like to discuss her work. After all, what was said seventeen year old girl going to do - follow up the leads dressed in a costume? That's absurd. Of course not.[/ul]
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Post by simba on Nov 12, 2010 18:25:19 GMT -5
It would be exceptionally bad form to not show up to one's own party. Not that this was truly a party. No, parties are fun affairs. Not that messing with Gotham's finest isn't fun...
Bruce slipped his way onto the upper balcony circling three edges of the main foyer of his exquisite mansion. He glanced out to the sea of black and white that mixed so beautifully with the marble floor; it was a nice image, really. How much the rich and powerful are a part of this place. A part of the background, ancient and strong. But ultimately, just as this mansion was, inevitably fleeting. Yet Mr. Wayne did not have the opportunity to muse on these thoughts, no. He turned the first grey-haired man he saw and slipped into the group, catching just a bit of their conversation...
"Of course the rainforest is important. It is... well, a good source of the world's rain, is it not?" Mr. Wayne couldn't help but smile at the eldery buffoon speaking. "And full of... what, savages? Bugs? Trees and things? Has to be some money in there, somehow, in keeping it around." Bruce's ears stared up into the man's own dulling irises. Catching a server in his peripheral vision, Bruce snapped up a glass of water from his tray.
"Always practical," Bruce flashes just a glint of his pearly white teeth in a suave smile. He know full well that none of these over-sized monkeys really cared about the rainforest. Currying favor and giving the illusion of altruism is a sort of goodwill that never becomes impaired. And even provides a nice deduction for their taxes. "Whatever the reason, though, your support is appreciated. It is a passion we can all share in." And with that, he shook the man's hand and turned... to catch a familiar face. Or at least, so he thought. He walked over to Selina and extended his free hand, "Ms. Kyle, correct? It is truly a pleasure."
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