Parasitic Congregation

February 4th, 2015: Master Darque and the Catwoman of Gotham meet.

Gotham's East End

The first impression of Gotham for many is East End, a district notorious for
it's poverty, crime, prostitutes and drugs. The lit up central strip at night
is colorful, bright and looks like something out of Las Vegas with its
innumerable gentleman's clubs, casinos, bars and strip clubs. The downtrodden
feel of East End has been glossed over by these glowing lights and brilliant
signs along with the towering cityscape of surrounding districts, such as
Otisburg, Burnley and to the north the Robert Kane Memorial Bridge.

Along the East End's southern region the streets begin to be overtaken by
cobblestone alleyways, alleyways that web work throughout a rundown slum city
of shacks, sheds, makeshift homes and decrepit apartments called Alleytown. A
heavily populated district many immigrants and their descendants call home.

Park Row aka Crime Alley rests upon the other side of the main strip,
dominated by an underdeveloped housing project called Scurvy City by the
locals (it's actual name being the Skirley Apartments), East End Free Clinic,
the Bowery, Tin Roof Club, Sheldon Park, Robbinsville and the GCPD's 9th



  • Cats!
  • Lionel Deveraux

Mood Music:

"To the edges of your hell. Row, row, row your boat through the streets of Styx to give proper thanks to those who saved you from your end. Tricked the Fates so you may mend.."


The sickening sound came when Catwoman slipped the maimed corpse of a talking rat from the mouth of Amenti. So perfect in delivery, by name and purpose, as well as imagery alone. Silver claws tiped in diamond shards severed the head from the rat and threw it to the streets below. Catwoman got the message, and with an apologetic stroke of fingertips along the hairless felines spine she opened the window to let the cat and its feast of messenger indoors while she swept across the rooftops of East End like a shadow dancing amongst the blowing snow and the razors wind.

Coming to the edges of her proclaimed East End she lowers into a crouch and waits, those goggle lenses flickering hues to sense heat signatures.

Alley Cats at her back, felines in the shadows, people warm in their apartments, tucking in for the night, fires burning in barrels…
The city streets and rooftops of Gotham are coated in snow. Layers of it. The chilly wind known as the Razor rips through the alleyways and roads. "Beautiful." Pale lips part and a voice rasps, a tall man, half a hand over six foot stands on the side of a Gotham Power and Energy rooftop, a deep crimson red long jacket with several scarfs flutter off in to the rippling wind, a wide-brimmed red hat rests upon a chalk white very bald head, a singular yellow eye peels away from it's stare over the dark city to watch the incoming Catwoman.
Nearby the shadows undulate, darkness twists and things underneath the snow move, wriggle and shift. Things of another world, of unspoken power. Things that normal men and women only see out of the corner of their eye or in their darkest nightmares.

"With the message you sent and the way you sent it, I daresay you are calling anything but what can really be seen… Beautiful." Liquid shadows seems to form the attire that lays sleekly over her form, stitch-worked in areas where war has torn and enforced the web work of scarring beneath as the true darkness of Gotham spews forth one of the many self-proclaimed 'protectors'.

Catowman approaches from the mans side, a shadow dancing amongst those cast by his flag-flying scarves, her hand rotating in curled and sharp fingers to bring her whip back within controlled grip. "I am glad Amenti is not a picky eater. I tend to fast when my food long served rare reforms a face and speaks."

A pause as the cold slices through the air and seeks to steal breath.

"What is it you want?"

"Amenti? Foremost of the Dead?" The crimson clad albino cracks a smile. A milky white eye now joins it's golden twin to gaze upon Catwoman. "This city, your home, an old power lies here. The very air breathes curse and despair." A curl of the man's nose, he seems faraway, vague, looking at her but through her. The markings on his flesh all symmetrical, sigils and runes that no businessman dare wear. A circus performer maybe but this man does not have the presence of a carni, he is more akin to the Hellraiser.
"What I want is not at all to question here, it is what they want that you should be asking." More vague, more indirect, cryptic as those like him tend to be. Somewhere off to their left a screech can be heard, inhuman, unnatural, also the darkness around this man seems to be… deeper, pockets of it even with Catwoman's augmented goggles don't allow her to pierce them. True pitch black devoid of light.

"If you go to the west.." Catwoman responds to the inquiry to her choice of name in the Sphinx cat. The messenger of his dark message that is getting more cryptic by the way he speaks further.

"You are not the first to say as much I am sure, the mere architecture of this city may as well be of the bones of those it is forged over and risen from." Such a thing exists in Czechoslovakia, temples made of the enemy slain down to the very chandeliers, Gotham just refined it and crafted it into a Chicago style art, but in the Underground you see the suffering, you hear it… You respond as Dark Knight or become that darkness and its manipulator. It's Bane.

"If you could do to many what you did to that rat…" Catwoman says no more, her goggle lenses shifting to that clear mode, allowing him full view of emerald green eyes that don't need electronic manipulation to /know/ what she's dealing with. The truth is better here.

"Fine, what do they want?"
"I found amusement in the message. I assumed with your…" An ivory hand extends from inside those blood colored garments, long claws capping each fingertip. "Totemic theme you likewise would find amusement in such a small gesture." The necromancer's limb disappears once more and his chin tips up, that wide brimmed hat drawn aside and let cast to the wind, watching it sail away his lips curl again, "I do so enjoy this city…" Lingering he watches it fade from view in to the darkness of the frost swept skies before attention returns to Selina, "The Society beckons. It is time you pay your dues and pledge yourself to our number."

Catwoman watches him, her gaze flicking from his face to his hand and then rising to watch as the wind takes his hat and carries it off to lay with other items that will either decay or find another use upon another entity. Or systematically repay him in karma, making it a home for rats undefiled. His insistence of love for the city does not ease her, she knows she has only seen a very small part of what he can do, the sensation that radiates off him like a tangible aura warns her of such.

"I am a girl who takes pride in her work alone. Societies are not my /thing/." Catwoman responds, her upper lip taking to curl, an unsounded hiss bordering but not yet making its escape.

A light shrug comes from the shadow mage, "They will doubtful interfere in your business. You will only be called to arms and considered one of the flock. Consider this… cashing in on debts owed. Once you have accepted their aid they return, time, and time again. Like Death… " The man's white teeth appear again, Master Darque's fingers lift up and he flicks a snowflake from the air. "It's always waiting, each breath, each beat, just wards it off. Buys more time. You, understand? I present this to you as a formality but you are, indeed, indebted to the greater calling."
A pile of snow to the man's left burbles outwards and something scrambles out, small, black plated with many bent limbs. In it's teeth and mandible is a pigeon or what remains of one. The crimson clad albino pays it no mind.

"I did not ask for their aid. Find another girls social security number to fraudulently put debt on. It's easy, I can show you ho—." Catwoman is slowly making her way towards the edge of the building and almost steps in the drift that bubbles to life and bears the warped and maimed effigy of death/life in one formation. Her upper lip curls and teeth flash in the distaste, eyes narrowing as she looks back at him.

The whip that had lain lamely in her grip now grows tense, her other hand taking up the handle and with a flick she wraps those split and barbed ends around it, jerking it in an opposing direction to send it flying off her rooftop and out of East End.

"I do not know what -that- was… Is…" Whisper "Gross.."

Looking at Darque now squarely she commences her walk to the edge of the building.


Master Darque blinks and looks at the creature as if it's existence is news to him, "Simple homunculus, a lesser creature that feasts on life."

The black chitinous armored creature mid-burrow back in to the snow lets out a squeal as it hurls through the night air off the edge of the rooftop, it will land below with a crash and become a new menace.

"Your answer is noted, Selina Kyle. Enjoy your night and I do so enjoy the chaos you have thrown this 'East End' in to. The fear is strong here. Tangible." A long inhale and those bloodless lips peel back once more to display teeth. His eyes drift over Catwoman's figure, "You are a true instrument of disorder. You should be proud."

"That's… nice." Catwoman says in response to his definition of the ugly little shit she just sent flying. "Though you show me what is not a parasite anymore and I'll show you my surprised face."

The whip snaps out, arm extended to hold as it twines around the opposing buildings upper scaffolding and awaits, her own eyes traversing over him, though there is no emotion behind it, a casual wander that notes everything she needs to have in her memory for this man. Meetings like this tend to never have good end results. "Chaos is necessary sometimes to get things done. Do I carry myself with anything but?" And in one short jerk of a gesture she is off that rooftop, a shadow swinging through the night and cutting through the snow to disappear.

"Parasites are a form of flattery. That which is poorly designed is a sad host and attracts no great admirers…"
The pale man states, "Tangible." He replies to her question a word referencing his earlier statement. Watching her go he turns to step through darkness and come out the other side, an entirely new place awaits him.

A building, immaculate, professional, clean, nicely lit up (as if someone was afraid of the dark).

The startled blond male in the suit behind his desk jumps upright, "Master… "
"Lionel, visit the Catwoman later in the East End of Gotham. Deliver this…" A small guitar sized obsidian black chip is given to the man. "It would seem I missed my opportunity, it is ever a delight when I can still find myself surprised at what this reality presents."
A pause and the walking nightmare stares at the desk. The woman beneath it cries out and begins to claw at the pant leg of Lionel Deveraux before her flesh rots, skin decays and bones crumble. The noises are pitiful.
"This is a professional establishment, Lionel. You of all people should be ashamed. I am disappointed." A black doorway opens again to elsewhere and Master Darque steps through to his sanctuary.
Trembling Mr. Deveraux picks up the black chip and examines it, "M-Ma.. Maggie, get someone in here to clean up this… mess… on my floor and look up an address in Gotham for me please."

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