#abittangledup

“...”

Hallucination? Perhaps. There was no way she's ACTUALLY forced her way into the building with all the security. Not to mention the Company wasn't exactly easy going on anyone with an ability. Not unless you worked for them and even then it was debatable.

          A wise person once said no good deed went unpunished, and Adam was about to be reminded of that particular saying as the two thugs dropped to the ground in front of him. A sigh of boredom escaped his lips as the immortal had been hoping they would provide more of a challenge. Common street trash was easy mode, though. With his good deed for the week taken care of, he turned to face the woman he’d just saved. Her words weren’t predictable ones of thanks, causing his head to tilt and eyes to blink a few times. With a nod, his hood was pulled down, revealing his face, expression calm. “I see. Well, you’re in luck, my dear. I have smelling salts on me, so I can simply revive them for you, if you wish?”

Edward “The Riddler” Nygma ! Batman Comics / Mostly HC (previously written)

Gotham has, itself, a bit of a mockery of Times Square. On main in uptown, the screens that display alternating billboard advertisements hang overhead, and the neon lights from ritzy boutiques illuminates the flanks of either side of the street, creating the illusion of a tunnel of light and sound and movement that only big cities can accomplish. When he was a boy, Edward would stare up at the screens and imagine one day he’d be on them. Maybe he’d be one of those people they hire for ad campaigns. Maybe he’d be a politician. Maybe he’d be king of the world, someday.

It was a stupid dream, really. Moronic, actually.

“Ladies, gentlemen, and those who know better! Citizens of Gotham!” Twenty years later, those same screens display the face of a man clad in a bright green suit -- face hidden behind a domino mask and punctuated by a haughty smirk. “Do you feel yourselves melting from the hum-drum of daily life? Does your brain turn to goo when you turn on the telly? Is the world falling to absolute shit all around you? All the morons in the world got you down?”

The screens flash, a glitchy quality to the broadcast betrays it to be illegal -- unintentional. Somewhere, someone is losing their job for letting the company’s internet security be breached. Good.

“Well, good news! You don’t have to go to Walmart to buy a new toy that will make everything better! No, no, my beautiful, ignorant sheeple! All you have to do...”

The screens quickly cycle through a series of images: metallic cages, robotic constructs spray-painted green, cogs and wheels grinding bone into nothing. And then, the final image: a timer, counting down.

“Is die!”

Pulsating in the background behind the timer is a stylized green question mark on a fuschia background, and as the laughter peters out, the audio is replaced by a loop of that same voice repeating the phrase, “Too bad, so sad!” as the screen cycles through a column of text again and again.

With potent, flowery words speak I of something common, vulgar, dry; I weave webs of pedantic prose in effort to befuddle those who think I while time away in lofty things above all day, the common kind that linger where Monadic beings live and fare.

Practical I may not be, But life it seems is full of me!

@abittangledup​ approaches from the northeast, the fiery tone of her hair mirrored by that of a strange, tall person staring vacantly out over the water while smoking a cigarette. 6′1″ and broad shouldered, Josipa Horvatinčić strikes an imposing frame with her well muscled body still noticeable underneath the long sage colored trench coat that she wears. Bright orange eyes flicker over towards the young woman as if she has just noticed her, as if she hasn’t been tracking her like a jungle cat for the last week. Taking one last drag, she grinds out the remainder of her cigarette on the metal railing of the bridge as Elizabeth Ellison approaches, the late afternoon sun illuminating sharp facial features that Josipa unfortunately shares with her brother.

“Miss Ellison.” Carried on a plume of thick white smoke, perhaps the girl will recognize something familiar in her name spoken in that accent, even through the strange cockney that’s diluted it. “I will have a moment of your time.”

          “The brilliant thing about your ‘heart’ and mind... is that they’re both located in the same region: the brain. And no one’s brain is impervious.” Especially not with the aid of sedatives and hallucinogens. Johan had his knees crossed as he sat in front of Liz who was strapped to a sofa chair with an IV inserted into her arm and the bar with the drip standing beside her. She would be barely conscious with the sedatives in her system, but she was still able to make some sense with her words and somewhat stay on track during a conversation. This was the perfect state for her to talk to him, suggestible, vulnerable, and completely helpless. He needed to find out how and why this young woman was involved and what her purpose was in accompanying Tenma. There would be no more of that if Johan had any say in it... and he would.

@ncsism replied to your post:  this is the only valid interpretation of kilshit

@roguesgalleried replied to your post:  this week on buzzfeed unsolved we'll investigate kilgrave