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Avalikia
85 Posts
Joined May 2020
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Post by Pamela Isley on May 22, 2020 11:54:32 GMT -7
An invitation to Wayne Manor was certainly something that Pamela Isley would always strongly consider. Not that she much cared for the man who owns the place - actually, truth be told, she hardly knew Bruce Wayne. They frequented many of the same social circles and bumped into each other on occasion, but she didn't really know him. Still, by reputation, he didn't seem the sort of man she'd care to know.
Someone like him fell firmly into several categories of people who didn't really strike her interest. Someone so obviously eager to have a beautiful woman on his arm at all times would be absolute pudding in her hands with no effort whatsoever, and that's a bit boring. On top of that, if she did steal away his heart it would be socially ruinous - many of the other female members of Gotham's social elite whose friendship she's been carefully cultivating would be quite jealous of her for securing such a prize and their resentment would probably even break a few budding relationships. But even more importantly, he seemed utterly useless as a potential boyfriend. Yes, he has a ridiculously large amount of wealth, but she's hardly poor herself and if she were to seek a boyfriend then they would certainly need to bring something besides money to the table.
Still, she was on the market for a boyfriend, if someone suitably useful could be found. Not that she had any interest in romance at all, but a man with the right resources, both physical and intangible, who was properly entranced could easily make such things available to her. Such a person is actually quite difficult to find, at least one who has so much to offer as to merit an official change in relationship status. So in the meantime, she's found herself making do with those things she can obtain through simple games of catch and release. And any party with an exclusive guest list is an excellent place to scout out people to play that with.
This was why it was a minus when she noted that this party wasn't to be as exclusive as she would have liked - instead it was to be a large affair with many special guests of honor pulled from the lesser strata of Gotham society. Apparently some representatives of the GCPD and the Asylum were also on the guest list, so that they may be lauded for their hard work or something. Neither group were people she wished to see ever again! Yet perhaps the only thing that could have convinced her to attend anyway was also happening at this party: it was a charity gala, raising money for the rainforest. Fine, for the trees she would do it.
Though she was fond of green anyway, the color seemed especially appropriate for this evening so she selected a beautiful, olive green dress - floor length, but with such significant slits in the sleeves that there were hardly any sleeves at all, allowing plenty of her pale skin to be on display. Her hair was pulled partially back, with a beautiful white orchid peeking out among her tresses - a real, living plant who was not at all pleased to be outside of the perfect atmosphere provided by her greenhouse, but it would come to no real harm by being her companion for the evening. And especially if she was to possibly bump into the police or, worse, the same therapists she'd seen during her brief stint in the asylum, she certainly didn't want to go without something to calm her nerves.
She arrived fashionably late, though because so many others had the same idea she found herself joining a trickle of people entering the manor at the same time. As she made her way inside, she began to scan the gathered crowd, looking for those she might want to talk to, nodding to a few she recognized but who didn't make the cut, and attempting to locate those she wished to avoid before she ended up within the same vicinity as them - or, worse, within close enough distance to possibly have a conversation with them.
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Character Info
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Jere
25 Posts
Joined May 2020
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Post by Jeremiah Arkham on May 27, 2020 10:11:10 GMT -7
Jeremiah had nothing against the rainforest—he certainly had nothing against conserving the rainforest either. He wasn’t the picture-perfect conservationist because he wasn’t one, but he was all about taking steps to reduce his carbon footprint. The people of today needed to care and they needed to care immensely. Not only was the forest a scenic destination of glorious beauty, but it home to indigenous peoples who only wished to live the same life their fathers and grandfather before them had lived. To take the forest was to destroy cultures and that just the tip of an iceberg.
You had species of animal found nowhere else and not only were they being driven to extinction, but driven from their habitats where they became nuisances to people which wasn’t their fault. They were just trying to survive. It was enough to make Jeremiah’s head spin. Considering all the unknown medicinal uses of some of those plants, now he was getting dizzy. He tried to shut off such thoughts, though. As much as he was here supporting the forest, he was also here to network. Galas like this were perfect for him to run into people he usually wouldn’t who could be essential allies if he ever needed it. He had to take advantage of this even he felt cheap for using such a fundraising event for such things. He had nothing against the rainforest, but in his opinion they should focus on the community around them before they reached further out.
Countless gangs fought on the streets every day, more people where homeless, and the streets themselves? Filthy. A heart had to be clean or it would spill disease into the systems around it. Gotham was dirty and here they were, trying to save the rainforest?
He sighed. For the opportunities to meet people willing to help him clean Gotham, he’d do it.
He wore a classic, black fitted suit with a crisp white collared shirt under it. He sported a black bowtie and his salt-pepper hair was artfully brushed back. He was groomed and his cologne was subtle. He even wore contacts tonight, though, he secretly couldn’t wait to get home and take them out when this was over. He’d only been invited, after all, to recognize his work at Arkham Asylum.
Lip-service, he thought with an edge. If they really wanted to recognize his work, why not help him better clean up the city and help it’s desperate citizens? Didn’t the rich see how their fellows were suffering?! They had to. He was just one person. He recalled something about it taking a village to raise a child. It took one to help their community too.
He’d arrived early, as was his routine and had waited to enter with a few people so that as the “fashionably late” arrived he was already situated into the room, hidden among the outskirts.
That was how he saw Pamela and for the first time that night, he did genuinely smile.
He grabbed a fluke of champagne from a serving tray and taking it and his own, he politely guided himself to the red-head’s side.
He offered the drink cordially.
“Ms. Isley,” he said, “I’m so happy to see you faring so well. I was quite worried what would happen once you left. Worried about you. You look amazing, though. I’m very happy for you.”
Truth be told, while her fall may have been tabloid fodder, he had seen so many young, socialites whose lives and expectations had taken such tolls on them. Had seen so many with potential snap and break and never be the same. It was always refreshing to see someone doing so well.
His happiness was genuine. Pamela Isley had been through so much, more in a short amount of time than anyone deserved and yet, she was here holding her head high.
This was something he could celebrate.
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Character Info
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Avalikia
85 Posts
Joined May 2020
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Post by Pamela Isley on May 27, 2020 14:25:35 GMT -7
Speaking of people that she wished to avoid... It wasn't that Pamela had a particular dislike for Dr. Arkham, it was that she had a particular dislike of the asylum and everything that reminded her of her stay there. It was three long, tedious, humiliating, and overall unpleasant months of her life that she wanted to forget.
So when the man seemed to suddenly appear at her side, her eyes boiled with annoyance. But only her eyes - the rest of her expression showed only mild surprise. "Dr. Arkham, how lovely to see you again, darling," she said without a tremendous amount of sincerity but willingly giving him all the social graces. She took the offered drink, bothered that he would be so bold to approach her when their only acquaintance was the aforementioned stay at the asylum but also determined to not let that instantly ruin her evening.
In fact, his words irked her so much that she quickly found herself taking that as a bit of a challenge - of course she's faring well! His stated worry, which was probably just as insincere as her own statement about how lovely it was to see him, was practically an insult if it were true. And of course she looked amazing - she always looked amazing. She even did those horrible asylum uniforms justice, and dressed as she was now she looked utterly spectacular! The nerve!
"Well, of course, darling, you and yours were wonderfully helpful. If you must know, I've been thriving since I left. The past - ...what? ...year and a half? ...approximately? - have been quite wonderful, actually," she stated. That was even the truth... depending on what counts as 'thriving' anyways. She'd certainly returned to and expanded upon her 'normal' activities. What was an outright lie was that anything about her stay at the asylum having anything to do with it - she'd never belonged there in the first place and if anything it only made the difficulty she was dealing with at the time even worse.
Of course, what Dr. Arkham didn't know is that she'd truthfully snapped months before he'd even met her and she's hardly back to her old self. In fact, her old self wouldn't have come to this or any other party even if she'd been paid to do so. The very fact that she's here is actually a sign that something is wrong, not that anyone would know and especially not that she would believe that if she'd been told. In fact, she'd be far more inclined to believe that her former self had been a weakling and a fool, so who she is now could only be an improvement.
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0 Posts
Joined January 1970
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Post by Deleted on Jun 20, 2020 1:59:53 GMT -7
Bruce stood upstairs in his main bedroom, adjusting the bowtie around his neck and making sure it looked perfect. As he finished adjusting it, and reached for his cuffs to make sure his links were perfectly shined and in place, the door opened and Alfred stepped in. Bruce's eyes meeting his in the mirror as Alfred stepped closer.
"Your guests are arriving, Sir. There are a few people asking for you already."
"Let them wait, Alfred. I'm the host, after all. Its okay for me to be fashionably late."
"Of course, Sir."
Bruce finishes adjusting his cufflinks, and then turns to see Alfred has already slipped his suit jacket off the back of the nearby chair, holding it out so Bruce can slip his arms inside the sleeves, and then rolls the shoulders to settle it into place. Tugging at his sleeves to make sure its on right, before doing up the lower two buttons of his jacket and looks into the mirror to make sure he looks good. It was an old habit from when he used to go out with his parents. They always instilled in him the need to look at his best for any Gala, but especially when he was hosting one. Wayne's were always dressed to impress. They had to look good, to make everyone in the city feel good.
Turning to face Alfred, he saw the old man staring at him intently, as Alfred always did, making sure everything was in it's right place before smiling and nodding. That was the final seal of approval for Bruce. If Alfred couldn't find anything wrong, then he'd certainly done something right. Reaching out to pat his old friend on the shoulder with a smile.
"Go let them know I am coming, Alfred. I'll be right behind you."
"Very good, Sir."
Alfred gave a small bow and then turned and headed off. Bruce watching him live, before glancing over to the statue on is bedside table. A quick tilt of its head, and a retina scan, and he could be into his safe room and then down to the cave. Out into the city and fighting for the inner soul of Gotham in the best way he knew how.
With a sigh, he looked back to the door and then started to walk towards it. Tonight was too important for Bruce Wayne for him to suit up. He'd just need to focus on the charity of the night and how much help he was doing for the rainforest. Walking down the hallway, he stepped out a small side door and down a flight of steps, slipping out into the throngs of people at the gala instead of coming out at the top of the stairs. There'd be time for showboating and big public speeches later. For now he merely wanted to circle around the floor and see if he could pick up on some small tidbits and tales. They were vital for his ability to keep Gotham safe.
He still got caught by a few people, some hard cases looking for money and attention, but he was easily able to disarm them and move on. It was easy to find an excuse to leave people when you were the host. As he mingled though, he caught a sight of some familiar faces in the crowd. Miss Isley and Dr. Arkham were seemingly getting reacquainted and it drew his attention. Pamela had come a long way since her attempted poisoning of Harvey, but he still liked to keep an eye on her after her Arkham stay. And Dr. Arkham seemed to be thinking along the same path too, as he had isolated the redhaired socialite. taking a champagne flute off a passing waitress, he slipped closer and then smiled and threw his arms wide as he 'spotted' Pamela.
"Pamela! You made it!"
Bruce grinned and stepped closer, reaching out with the hand not holding a flute give her a very soft oe arm hug, and an air kiss to her cheek. His eyes staying on hers as he smiled wide at her.
"It's always so good to see you at my little events, Pam. I hope you brought your checkbook. We really need to do some serious action to save the whole rain forest. Those trees and animals really need our help."
He stopped talking to Pam as he saw the look on the next mans face. Looking at him for a moment and then stepping back with a soft but happy smile.
"Oh. I'm sorry. I dont think I know you. Are you one of the police officers here to protect me and my guests?"
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Alive and Angry
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-V
51 Posts
Joined June 2020
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Post by Roman Sionis on Jun 20, 2020 11:28:44 GMT -7
For someone who has despised Bruce Wayne since childhood, Roman Sionis kept tabs on any social or news scuttlebutt involving the billion dollar bachelor. Roman Sionis had arrived early to the party, intending to out due Bruce on his own home turf. Dressed in a white suit over a tie-less blue dress shirt, Roman had made a fashion statement by not dressing in a tuxedo or a traditional three piece suit. A set of Michael Jackson-esque white gloves completed the outfit to help match the color scheme. The attire alone was enough to turn a few people off from approaching him, combine this with the fact that the EXTREME Facepaint makeup line had been the total laughing stock at the Gotham City fashion show over the weekend added insult to injury. Roman was never the most social person in elite society to begin with. He had withdrawn himself from the culture after seeing how his parents always put up masks in front of their peers. At this particular social engagement whenever Roman would approach an individual in attempts to begin a conversation, it mostly began with a cordial greeting from the other party. They then would attempt to flee from the conversation as soon as possible. Like watching someone jump out of a burning building or a group of children fleeing from a skunk found in their backyard.
Roman's girlfriend, Circe, was faring better. A naturally beautiful red-head, Circe had been able to present herself with respect, dignity, and meekness before others. She kept her words few, and her ears open. She kept is simple. However, she still felt uncomfortable in the setting. She had been born of humble means. A steak and potato kinda gal.
About an hour into the party, Roman helped turn himself into a social pariah. The president of Janus Cosmetics was pouting in the corner with a shrimp cocktail in one hand and a glass of wine in the other.
Then it happened. The host had finally arrived. Bruce Wayne slipped through a side door instead of making a grand entrance. Roman picked up on him almost immediately and just like when they were children, seeing Bruce Wayne began with a pout and then soon turned into a scowl. Those who did notice Bruce were clamoring for his attention and still kept their eyes lingered on him even after he had walked away. Wayne made his way over to join a conversation between Pamela Isley and Jeremiah Arkham. Bruce had been so smooth that Circe had taken a particular inkling towards him. Circe smiled at Bruce with her eyes and lips from across the room. In addition, she started to play with the pearls on her necklace while she did so.
"Bruce <bleepin'> Wayne! Pamela <bleepin'> Isley too! What's he trying to do? Recruit her into his company now? Trying to steal my asset?!" Roman's fist began to clench to the point where his hands started shaking. Soon, the purple liquid at the top of the wine glass spilled onto his jacket and shirt, forever staining the articles of clothing. "#&!^$."
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0 Posts
Joined January 1970
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Post by Deleted on Jun 28, 2020 12:35:59 GMT -7
A 1955 Chysler Imperial approached the Wayne Manor. At this hour, the large headlights illimuniated the main road leading up to the mansion. Charles ‘Rhino’ Daley, the former Gotham Knight linebacker, was in the driver’s seat and sitting shotgun was Mugsy ‘the mook.’
Some considered Wayne Manor a landmark of Gotham City. A good part of that was because of the charitable works of Thomas and Martha Wayne. Tourist and even locals often came up to stand in front of the gates and peer inside to see the beautiful landscape that was within. Many wanted to see if they could catch a glimpse of Bruce Wayne. The man. The myth. The legend of high Gotham High Society.
Visiting Wayne Manor was like trying to drive by the home of a famous Hollywood Actor or Actress and to a much miniature extent, similar to standing outside the back of the White House of Washington DC. On this particular evening, Scarface and his crew were not driving by Gotham Heights for a sightseeing trip. They were driving by the neighborhood, scouting for a potential job.
"DON'T EVEN THINK A'GOUT IT DUMMY," Scarface looked up at Arnold Wesker, shaking his head, "PEOPLE AT THAT PARTY....THEY'LL CHEW YOU UP AND SPIT YE OUT LIKE TOMORROW'S G'REAKFAST."
Years ago, when Arnold was a child, he would occasionally drive up to Gotham Heights from Somerset to attend a party of high society. Arnold's father was a high level mob boss, long before the time of cellphones, the internet, and social media. Wesker's father was a traditional mob boss. A traditional style mob boss participated in means of notoriety, but there was also an honor and a reason for doing so. Much like how the Yakuza served as the police force in Japan during the WW2 period. Much like how a mobster in charge of a city block would feed the widows and the orphans of their jurisdiction. That was Arnold Wesker's father. Even though, Arnold was an underachiever according to many, his father still took care of him. Still fostered gifts. Still nurtured talents. That is why Arnold is such a talented ventriloquist. His father encouraged him in that particular art.
The Ventriloquist aka Arnold Wesker stared at Wayne Manor for a few minutes. Not responding to Scarface's comment. It would be nice to be able to attend a party of high society again. Especially if Wayne Manor was the setting. Maybe one day?
"Ye--ye--yes Mister Scarface. Let's head back to Gotham proper."
Scarface and the Ventriloquist turned towards the front of the car at the same time.
"RHINO, GET US OUT OF HERE. DRINKS ARE ON DA G'OSS!."
Mugsy the mook smiled and nodded with approval. "Now your talking."
Rhino drove the car back to the Stacked Deck. Perhaps the Riddler was still there? If so, Scarface would slide the tab over to him!
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Character Info
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Jere
25 Posts
Joined May 2020
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Post by Jeremiah Arkham on Jul 4, 2020 17:49:44 GMT -7
Jeremiah would like to think that most men of his species were ignorant to the subtle clues given by others that they were annoyed, but while Pamela’s body language said nothing of it, nor did her words, her eyes had narrowed and that smile she wore so easily didn’t even touch them. Oh, she was displeased and probably even more than just that. That was unsurprising.
It was also something Jeremiah didn’t take personally.
Many came to Arkham in dreary or psychotic states, Pamela having been the latter. He still remembered those screams, the aggressive behavior--if memory served correctly she’d even had to be restrained to protect herself as well as others. No, he really didn’t hold it against her. He was as good a symbol for that place as any and if he had to bear the brunt of her distaste that was fine. If her words were less than eager, that bothered him none. He just smiled and nodded.
“No, it really is lovely to see you. I don’t often get to see many patients outside my working hours so to see you flourishing is a treat.” Oh, she could doubt that he was sincere and take that as a challenge as much as she wanted, but the plain facts were, in fact, that he was earnest and if she wanted to rub his face in how well she was doing that was completely fine with him. Tiring, and more than a little childish, but she if needed some specter to see as an enemy, he’d been seen as far worse. When he’d been mental health director of a facility without the word “Asylum” in it’s name, few patients saw him as some enemy, but now he was almost up there with Batman.
Batman who made his job all the more challenging. He inspired the very psychotics he now contended with. Gotham had already been a bed of depression and neurosis, but now the neurotics were being inspired! Digression, aside, however, he really was happy to see Pamela doing well and he’d never come out and say so, but she’d never not looked amazing.
So he lifted his glass to her. “I doubt we did much, Ms. Isley. I believe that was all you.” The person had to want to be better for treatment to work and that it had was not a testament to him, but to Pamela’s personality. Of course, he had no idea that she had not gotten mentally more sound, but rather better had hiding it. Even the best psychiatrists couldn’t know a psychopath at just meeting. There were signs yes, but even psychopaths weren’t all deviant.
So no, he had no idea the mind he was peering at right now and how if she wanted, he could be dead. He was just a doctor, happy to see a former patient doing well, at least in his perception.
Then Bruce Wayne appeared. He’d heard the commotion, but he’d never thought the man would come to their area of the floor. Usually the doctor hated interruptions, but the man actually saved him from trying to make small talk where it was obviously unwanted.
He thought he was a police officer, though. He blinked at him a moment before he grinned and gave a soft chuckle. “Honored you think so, Mr. Wayne, but no. I’m afraid I’m not that important. I’m Jeremiah Arkham, owner and head psychiatrist at Arkham Asylum.” He held out his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
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Character Info
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Avalikia
85 Posts
Joined May 2020
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Post by Pamela Isley on Jul 5, 2020 1:27:36 GMT -7
Did Pamela see Dr. Arkham as an enemy? No, nothing that personal. If she were to put a name to what she considered to be her enemy, it would be society in general - or at least certain aspects of it. And those aspects of it that deemed someone with her vision and goals to be mentally insane were among them. The man talking to her now was merely the face of an otherwise faceless, cruel bureaucracy that didn't seem to care if the world burned down around it.
"I'm sure it is," she replied to that face, with the barest hint of sarcasm in her tone even though her expression was all smiles. He would probably rightly take that as a sign that one thing that they didn't manage to cure or even make a dent in was the arrogance she so easily fell into - not that hers was any worse than that of many others in the upper classes. This was underlined all the more when her only response to his compliment of assigning responsibility for her 'recovery' back over to her was to say, "Well, I've always been a hard worker." A dubious claim, at best.
But if she had further to say on the subject, it was forgotten when Bruce inserted himself into the conversation. This was a surprise to her because she'd been so bothered by the fact that Dr. Arkham was talking to her that she missed noticing his approach. But it was a good surprise because, as unimpressed as she was with the man hosting this party, she'd still rather talk to him instead of Dr. Arkham - Bruce was merely annoying, and she'd take that over having to be reminded of her embarrassing stay at the asylum any day of the week. Even if he was brazen enough to call her 'Pam', that was still an improvement.
She returned the hug and air kiss just as it was given, the smile on her face even reaching her eyes as she replied, "Well, of course, darling! I would never miss it - especially for such a worthy cause. You'll see a very generous donation from me - don't you worry. You know how much I love the trees and animals." And she meant it, too. Well, not so much the animals, but they were a valuable part of the rainforest so it wasn't like she minded if they happened to be saved along with the trees and other important plants. She was already a donor to such causes, but she saw no reason why that meant she should abstain from donating even more when presented with an opportunity like this.
Not that any of it improved her opinion of Bruce, though she was almost tempted to like him more when he then turned to Dr. Arkham and indicated that he didn't know who he was. Almost. It did give her a sense of internal satisfaction because it was a clear demonstration of how the poor, overbearing asylum administrator was merely a visitor to this world of the upper classes and not a member, unlike herself. If he was anyone actually important then Bruce Wayne would at least know his name.
But even as she was enjoying her internal giggle about that, she gave her surroundings the side-eye and considered just how difficult it would be for her to slip away from both of them without being noticed. Even if Bruce was an improvement, she'd rather not talk to either of them, and surely there was someone she did want to talk to around here somewhere. She didn't make a move just yet, however, because if she was spotted intentionally moving away from Bruce too quickly then it would look like she was trying to avoid him on purpose and that just wouldn't do.
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