#prettiedpetals

Hello, Gotham! We'd like to take this opportunity to welcome our third and newest admin, Riah! She currently plays Allison Brett. 

Somehow the girl had survived the explosion. The specific somehow was something he was quite curious about, and would most certainly be having a little chat with Eddie about later. Unsuspecting girls who sold flowers for a living were not supposed to be able to tell a secretly rigged explosion was coming. They were not supposed to get out in time. But she had. And that had, unfortunately, made Johnny Blake absolutely ecstatic. Or so his network had informed him.

In all honesty, the Joker had never really cared too much, one way or another, about the new Batman. Sure he stood for the same things, but the clown doubted he was as morally staunch as Bruce Wayne.  As far as he’d been concerned, the new Bat was something the new criminals could deal with. However, in light of recent events—many of which revolved around the incompetence of the new wave of criminals—perhaps it was time to run a little investigation on the new Bat. Johnny Blake had been Bane’s desired target, and their precarious little alliance had left the Joker content enough to let the masked man have him. But now Bane was gone. Well, maybe.  In the hands of Strange, anyways. That left a lot of the masked man’s old territory up for grabs. With Bane so conveniently indisposed, Strange seemed to be the only other big game in town. But, the good doctor appeared to have interests that aligned with the clown’s, or at least wouldn’t overlap.  

All of that, in addition to his self-appointed mission to get the old Bat back in the game, made testing Blake a worthwhile side project. And what better way to test a man’s mettle than by threatening his girlfriend?

None that he could think of, which was why he was currently seated at desk with a computer receiving live video feed from a small camera attached to the ear of one of his henchmen. In person, the camera was not in the least suspicious; it looked like a large, awkward Blu Tooth device. His ambassador approached the girl’s apartment under the guise of pizza delivery boy. He watched the man’s fist enter his view as it knocked on her front door.

The Joker dialed the number of the cell phone that was in the man’s coat pocket. He was greeted with the muffled sounds of the phone being answered and then stuffed back into the jacket.  Ally Brett opened her front door.

“Two large pizzas,” the man said loudly.

The acting was cringe-worthy. The woman was very tactful, she tried to explain that she hadn’t ordered anything, that he must have had the wrong address.  Pass her the phone, idiot. The Joker rolled his eyes at the camera. His messenger mentioned that she probably had ordered something, and wedged his foot in the door when she tried to close it. He handed her the phone and her expression was just priceless as she put it against her ear. She looked as if she was trying to appease a madman. Oh, she had no idea.

Oh, Christ, maybe he'd gotten involved with the wrong sort of people. How could anyone possibly think that explosions were fun? Riddles, petty theft, even killing. Edward could understand those things. They were different degrees of thrill-seeking, but they were perfectly capable of being executed cleanly. This was a mess, painful to all parties involved. Edward's ears, no, scratch that, his entire head was ringing, a shrill high pitched whine coming to define everything he saw. He couldn't blot it out. It was awful. He took a deep  breath, squinting, continuing to stumble almost blindly forward.

His pale skin was covered in a layer of burnt grime, and his eyes were watering. Every instinct in his body resisted his forward progress towards the intense heat, the center of the blast. But Edward forced himself onward, staggering, propping himself up with his cane. His pride kicked in. This was his first official assignment from the clown, he would not go about it like a stooped old man. Edward, not without some effort, forced his spine to straighten, and his legs to support his weight. He narrowed his eyes, searching for any sign of life.

And there, was that a figure emerging from the smoke? Dark hair, female. It couldn't be. Edward grinned. What a clever girl. She called something to him that he didn't quite catch. He wiped the smile from his face, made his eyes wide and panicked. Just another average citizen, caught unawares.

"Oh God--the building it just...it just...Gone.." Edward pitched his voice as shrilly as he could, stumbling towards her, "Oh God...Are you okay?"

She looked just as frazzled as he was. He clutched at her arms, as if to inspect her for damage. Which he was, just in a slightly more calculated manner than she thought. Her knees where bleeding, she had a nasty cut on her forehead, although she seemed not to notice it. Other than that, she wasn't too banged up, just dusty. He had a feeling the clown would like that.

"Here, let me help," he realized he had a second blast in the works.

The clown had said cause as much damage as possible. Eddie had intended to, but his riddle had left him out in the open. Well within the range of a second blast. He had to move. Right now. He had to grab the girl and go.

"We should leave," their was an anxious whine to his voice.

She seemed to want to stay, to help the other citizens who where staggering around. There was an awful lot of screaming. He began shepherding her back down the alley. His car was there, somewhere. He just had to get into it. She persisted, there were others who required assistance. Edward was a very patient man in almost every possible scenario, the one exception being when his own life was on the line. Edward lost his temper.

"Alison," he snapped, grabbing her forcefully by the elbow, "If we don't move at least ten meters away right now, we are both going to die."

That seemed to have an effect. Her arm went slack in his grip, and abandoning all pretenses of being there to help, Edward began to run, dragging her behind him. The second wave tore the rest of the street into pieces. Prepared this time, Edward didn't look back. They were thrown off balance, but not to the ground. Moving forwards was his only goal. He opened the back door of his car, half helped, half shoved her inside. 

He shut the door, was about to climb into the driver's seat when he was fairly certain he was hit by a truck. He smashed into the side of his vehicle and crumpled to the ground. He lost his grip on his cane.

"Who-are-you?"

Strange, the truck was yelling at him. Edward blinked, writhed, tried to move, but he was effectively pinned. It wasn't a vehicle. It was an extremely angry man. Edward only had time to process one word: vigilante. Then he was being yelled at again. But Edward wasn't listening, the price of failure would be much higher than any physical pain this person could exact on him. No! He had come too far, sacrificed too much to just roll over and die. His groping fingers found his cane, curled around it.

"Get-off-me," he didn't recognize his own voice through the snarl.

The Secret Garden. It was an inconspicuous little building, but Edward had checked the Joker's message multiple times on the way over and he was positive he was at the place. He hated to be so last minute about the whole affair, but the orders hadn't left him much time for preparation. Edward stifled a yawn. He hadn't slept last night, and had instead crept into the flower shop once its owner had finally gone home for the night. He'd left her quite a present, he had to say.

However, Edward was, if nothing else, fair. Or at least, more fair than his employer. He'd given her an opportunity. The explosives weren't set to go off until ten minutes after the woman came in to work. His instructions had irrefutably clear, target Alison Brett and any other customers that may have been inside. However, Edward held no personal grudge against this woman. He'd done a quick background check on her before he laid his explosive trappings. There was nothing remarkable about this her at all besides her almost frightening streak of good luck. Good luck for someone living in Gotham, anyways. She was an outstanding citizen according to his findings. Not even a parking ticket to her name. Edward was too intelligent to follow any order blindly, and although he felt no particular guilt over his actions or his inevitable hand in this woman's death, he was curious as to why she'd been named specifically. 

People like the Joker and Bane did not target specific individuals unless there was a particularly pertinent reason. So there had to be something special about Alison Brett. Edward just couldn't quite put his finger on what it was and that irked him. Usually, he was quick on the uptake. But the clown and the masked man they were different from other people, their motives were harder to decipher. 

The blast would end Alison's life instantly. But the temptation to slip a riddle into such an important play was too tantalizing for Edward to resist. He couldn't help himself. So, the poor woman would find his note, if she came in to work on time. He'd left it on the counter for her to find,  simple white stationary with plain black text typed across it.

I am made by the thousands, but my function is to cease to exist. What am I?

If she solved the riddle, there was a possibility she would keep her life. If she found the answer quick enough, there was a chance that she would be able to flee through the back door and escape the blast. Edward was prepared for that. He'd brought his cane with him, and its metal grip would be more than capable of subduing her. If she lived, he would simply take her back to the clown, as a prize, as a trophy, as a gesture of his good will. 

The blinds of the shop opened, bestowing Edward with a view of the petite, dark haired woman as she began to bustle about. Through the glass he saw her hesitate by the counter where he'd left the note. He watched, smiling as she read it, as she began to mull it over. He could practically hear the little cogs in her brain clicking away as she pondered his cryptic words. He glanced at his watch. He should really get out of the way. Edward felt compelled, however, to see the outcome of his labor. He slunk further back into the alley, but he kept his eyes fixed on Alison. And to his mixed surprise and delight, she understood, because one moment she was standing with the note in her hands, and the next she was running towards the back door, slipping out and then--

The force of the ensuing explosion knocked Edward back against the wall of the building he was standing near, showering him in dust. He stumbled, acutely aware of a pain in his shoulder from where it had collided with the brick. He caught himself just before he fell. Several pieces of rubble landed at his feet. His eyes burned, his throat had gone dry, he couldn't hear anything. Edward blinked, wiped the back of his sleeve across his forehead to remove the sweat placed there by the heat. He coughed, and his hearing returned. The air tasted like ash.