taxonomites | Entries tagged with { bruce wayne

meanwhileback.livejournal.com

Penelope turns on her tablet feed to show her sprawled in a brocaded armchair, her ginormous cat draped over her lap in a manner that might indicate his status as an ex-cat if it weren't for the occasional twitch of his tail and the constant low rumble of purr coming from his general direction. She, for once, isn't smoking, but she is twirling a pair of scissors around her finger in a way that would make her mother very nervous. It looks like she's back to full health! Or at least a vague approximation of that.

"Sup, Crazyville," she announces. "I'm off my meds and feeling fine and fancy-free. Which would be awesome, if our alien overlords didn't abruptly decide to implement an economy while I wasn't looking. Guess it's back to being poor for me, unless I do something insane like opening a shop. So since my cat's spoiled now and acts like a pissy bitch whenever I try to feed him the cheap food, thanks Morgana, I'm gonna do that thing. Not right away, I mean, I need to make enough stuff to fill a shop with, first of all, so if anybody's interested in going into business with me, or working with me when it opens, drop me a line. Money buys Cristal."

There's a pause where Penelope furrows her brow, peering sideways, as if thinking of something, and then leans forward in her chair a bit more, over her cat, who appears not to even notice.

"Look, I know it's been a while, and most of you want to move the fuck on, and I respect that, I mean, fuck knows I'm the first in line on that carnival ride, but I personally am really goddamn impressed by how all of y'all worked together during a really shitty time in which shit was blowing up. I mean that was, at the very least, praiseworthy, if not like, deserving of hookers and blow. So in that vein, I'm gonna throw a party, because all of you deserve it for saving my life and generally being pretty awesome to me. Details to come as I hash them out, but if anybody wants to help me set that shit up, you know, apply within, or whatever."

dieneidio

When the tablet clicks on, Enfys is still fiddling with it and only half in view; it looks like she's on the floor in the library in Wayne Manor, which probably means that the knees briefly visible on the sofa behind her belong to Bruce. When she has the tablet set up properly on the table, he isn't in view any more but she is (beaming) and it looks like she took to her hair with some scissors and hair dye. Possibly she stopped by an Extra-run hair-dressers, possibly she took her chances in the bathroom. You don't know.

"Hello, lovelies! And the rest of you." Ha, ha. "I've already got a job, conveniently, so I won't muddy the waters with adding my credentials to everybody else's. This is a much less important broadcast, I just want to know if anyone knows where I can find some abseiling equipment."

...because she wants to try abseiling down the side of her tower here at the manor. By the way.

returntous.livejournal.com

So about this job thing. My usefulness begins and ends at 'talks to ghosts' and hell if I've seen any of them here.

Anybody else got that problem?

rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com

The Doctor has to start working eventually. And while nobody hates the idea of working quite like the Doctor hates working, he hates the idea of being back in prison even more than that.

So, behold the Doctor, carrying things from a replication unit to the square where he's working on his next project. At present, the things he's creating are three-foot pieces of metal. He's spitting out a few at a time, and then moving them to a large pile where he has more already stacked up.

There's also a series of papers he's had made up sitting not far off from the stacks of sheet metal. They read: MISSING: ONE SONIC SCREWDRIVER. HONESTLY, NOW, STEALING ISN'T RIGHT AT ALL, IS IT?

Oh, he's also got a plate of pink-frosted cupcakes. A Time Lord's gotta eat, y'all.

mercurialnature.livejournal.com

"Good morning Taxon, and isn't it a grand, wonderful, glorious day? Can't you just feel the hum of spring in the air?" It's entirely reasonable to assume that Hermes' good mood is catching. Certainly, the barely restrained laughter and glee in his voice is the infectious sort. "How is everyone and their uncles, dogs, or uncles' dogs doing today?"

cailisairgid

Today on this the glorious fifteenth of April, Taxon has been in business for a full year- and so a celebration is in order, or so apparently think the hamster overlords in charge of tweaking their citizens.

The Palais Garnier is a beautiful place thus far mostly neglected by everyone who isn't its very lovely current owner, and that is a godawful shame that's about to be corrected. One by one the seats are filling up with both the curious and the coerced, the latter finding themselves irresistibly drawn to the opera house whether they really want to be or not. It advertises a new show, for one night only and very definitely R-18, but whatever's going on hasn't quite got underway as arrivals begin trickling in, coats checked and seats shown by the Extra staff that have just seemed to materialize as necessary.

Backstage, things are maybe even more confusing for the seven gentlemen who've been pressganged into service of the city's entertainment. The, er, uniforms are laid out in the dressing rooms and each sized just right, and Glitch's back up dancers are ready and waiting to take the stage when the time comes and the lights go down in the theatre. There is a certain anticipation in the air as preparations make haste so close to the hour; yet more Extras mill through the building preparing the great baroque banquet hall for the meal and afterparty.

Happy Taxon Day, citizens; your headliners for tonight are in last minute prep, but why don't you enjoy the musical stylings of Glitch Langwe's opening act?

What better way to celebrate one full year than six full nudes?

rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com

The Doctor has been the defendant (or universal equivalent) in 320 trials during his lifetime. He's been tried by humans, by Zygons, by Draconians, by Judoon, and even by his own people (three times!). He's lost regenerations from the results of trials, and he's lost companions from them as well. But he has never felt so utterly out of control as he does right now.

He rubs his left forearm, where the paradox dragon tattoo still sits heavily on his skin, forever covered by his dress shirt sleeves and suit jackets. The result of another trial he was so very out of control for, but at least there he knew what to expect.

He accepts the cuffs, saturated with psychic energy from Leila if he's not mistaken, and allows Doul to take him back to the Sanctuary. The Doctor spent a lot of time in this place when he first arrived, trying to figure out ways back into that chamber where he found the tablet. Now, he may very well get to "go home" after this trial---a mockery of the universal judicial system, in his opinion---and sentencing. If "go home" means what the Doctor thinks it means. Because there's no doubt he's guilty, is there? Even he can't try to put a spin on what happened. People died. Died because he hadn't thought hard enough, hadn't planned things better. Because he'd planned so quickly out of fear of his own death.

But he can't show his guilt. He has to be strong, he has to make sure these people know that sacrifice is sometimes necessary in order to free themselves. Otherwise, they'll live their lives out here forever.

He stands where he's directed and waits.

OOC: Welcome to the Doctor's trial post. The committee members will be posting individual threads for witnesses/anyone to post to. In an effort to keep things chronological (and so everyone can have participate if you want, even if you're too busy this weekend!), please tag onto those.

Please feel free to threadhop and be generally belligerent! This post will remain open for as long as people would like to tag to it, though verdict and sentencing (decided by the committee) will be posted on Sunday. Have fun, guys! Any questions, just let me know!

delcorazon.livejournal.com

Trixie has been preoccupied the past few weeks following the bombings, and expects to be more so she gets herself involved with the upcoming trial and privately makes her own plans. She doesn't really feel any especial need to socialize when she isn't in the mood for it, but now her purpose for opening up communication is professional, and having one makes her slightly less aggravated about staying in Taxon--until someone finds an escape route, mind, she's still hoping for that one.

She switches her tablet on to visual. The background reflects the exterior of her car, which is a little worse for wear, lately, but she'll bother with repairs when she's got the time. She's not in front of her apartment, either, but rather just outside Wayne Manor.

"First off: folks interested in testifying at the Doctor's trial can show up at the lobby of the Sanctuary tomorrow afternoon. It's looking like it's going to be a long day, so prepare yourselves. Whoever brings pizza is my favorite."

There's a pause, and she changes topics without bothering to segue with much grace.

"That aside, everything that's gone on lately's got me thinking we could really use an actual hospital--but given the size of the local population, maybe more like a clinic. Look, I know we've got a few medical professionals here besides me, and frankly I just cannot sit here abiding the haphazardness of it all; if we're stuck here, we ought to put something together and do our damn jobs as a cohesive unit, right?" Her grin is a little crooked, but she means it. "Anyway, I got myself a knack for administrating, so I'm scouting locations around town trying to see what building might suffice. But I could use a hand with it, too, and maybe we can expand this into something bigger and more useful than just a clinic, eventually. Give me a holler if you're interested."

returntous.livejournal.com

No one really knew why the dead remained in the land of the living, whether it was by choice or simply an unfortunate fate, just as much as no one really knew if there was really a place to go after life. Mabel certainly had never seen any evidence of it, although she knew better by now to discount it's possible existence. Whatever it was, or could be, she doubted the streets were paved with gold and only good could be found. The same thing went for what the dead actually wanted in their haunting; problem was, sometimes they didn't want anything. They were just there, and at least to her that was a comfort. There was only one theory about ghosts that really seemed right to here, one she kept in mind when dealing with them.

They haunted minds.

There were minds to haunt in Taxon, and yet none of the constant presence of the dead she was so used to. At least, none so far that she had seen. Vampires were a kind of dead, but not the kind she looked for, and she still hadn't run into any of those anyway; her method of dealing with her kidnapping was to avoid actual contact with her fellow inmates. They weren't, anyway, the kind she spent her life trying to help. It could be because so few of the people here were more than just a strange sort of program that the dead did not come with. She didn't buy that.

( and in return i'll get nothing at all )

ipseite

Since her attack the Countess has been scarce, leaving her tablet locked in a drawer and accepting no visitors save the necessary. While she's still obliged to be careful - a shoulder injury like hers can take a long time to heal, and she's not as young and hardy as she used to be - she is now up and about again, albeit dressed far lighter as a concession to her range of motion. Naturally this means it's time to reacquaint herself with having company other than Jack or Doul.

In a brilliant display of multitasking, one of Petra's maids is holding the tablet obligingly for her mistress while the lady of the castle sits on the edge of a settee, Jack's dog Abby in front of her knees while she tries on first one collar and then another (studded, jewelled, plain leather, different jewels- it's safe to say that the Countess has experience in spoiling dogs). She does pause and look up when the maid signals that they're recording, and sets the collar in her hand aside to keep Abby amused with petting while she speaks.

"I'd merely like to briefly thank my well-wishers; Master Doul and the Colonel very thoughtfully passed those messages on to me and I did appreciate that. And- Dr Yilmaz, I have something I'd like to discuss with you, quite unconnected to our previous business."

She briefly considers whether or not she should say anything about Professor Snape's apparent disappearance, but it seems to be another Taxon coming and going of the depressingly usual sort and she's not sure that there's anyone else it'd concern.

Ultimately, she leaves it at that.

caballero

Religion is a word that inspires apathy at best in Bruce Wayne; he didn't grow up with it outside a handful of awkward, politically-required visits on holidays. It brings up memories of cold, uncomfortable buildings and droning music and the expression on his mother's face as she barely suppressed rolling her eyes - certainly not shrines and incense and offerings. Those things he associates more with spirituality, and those memories are mixed with times in which he was far more focused on other things. They were merely the backdrop for the main stage of learning, a pastoral against which he dodged and bled and tried again. His spirit is something that he manages, not cultivates.

( and you think that you thought all the thoughts that i thought you - don't you? )

oneofthequick.livejournal.com

During his off-hours, Uther Doul avoids the inexplicable eggs in town and makes the rounds to visit a few people and drop off a small gift. Odds are, if Doul enjoys the company of someone or has social obligations to them, then he will be by with a little paper-wrapped parcel for them.

Not all of the offerings are hand-delivered: the Brucolac's parcel is sent by Taxon Post, or whatever passes for the mail service in this place, and Judith's is left at the edge of her territory.

magicalskeptic.livejournal.com

( She has her reasons )

( [Visual: to Arthur] )

( [Location: Wayne Manor (outside Enfys's room)] )

( [Text: Countess Petrana] )

( [Location: Wayne Manor, wherever Bruce is skulking about] )

( [Location: Wayne Manor *knock* Penny *knock* Penny *knock* Penny )

( And finally )

[ooc: timeline is immediately following the house party plot, and before this post.]

caballero

( we countdown we learn we're out of time )

saintsanguine.livejournal.com

Over the course of the last very long time, there have been many occasions when Stefan would have liked nothing better than to wake up in a completely normal house. Possibly this occasion did not, as he imagined it, involve a sleeping bag on the floor and a handful of semi-strangers, but given Taxon it can be assumed all things will basically be freakish from here on out.
( lead me to the wolves, love )
[[ooc: second verse, same as the everyone else's. treat it like a party. :3]

caballero

( i can't remember a word that you were saying )

oneofthequick.livejournal.com

"Those of you who are acquainted with the vampire Angelus assured both myself, and Taxon at large, that he would be too preoccupied with harming you to care for anyone else." His voice is as clear as ever, but his tone conveys just how displeased he is with the general incompetence of those who had attempted to convince him that the problem could remain a personal matter. "You swore that he would be dealt with quickly and humanely and that there was no need for others to do anything but trust in your skill."

"You have been proven wrong and another has paid for your arrogance."

"How do you intend to redress this?"

mightyfallen.livejournal.com

When the tablet flickers to life for this broadcast, the view is one Jack Benjamin, visible from the elbows up, seated at a table in a sharp navy suit and less severe tie, professional without looking inhuman for it. The backdrop behind him is solid grey-blue and unremarkable, except that it perhaps complements the suit. That is probably not a coincidence. The man himself looks well rested, well groomed, and well prepared.

"Good morning, citizens of Taxon. For those of you I've yet to meet, I am Lieutenant Colonel Jack Benjamin. I have been acting as proxy for the Countess of Gatas in matters pertaining to the confinement of the Doctor in her home." He pauses here; if he's steeling himself, it isn't visible, it's only a pause, but the possibility remains. It's been a while since he wore this cool political facade, and it hasn't always served him well. "The issue I bring before you today is one in which the Countess would prefer to be involved directly, but she is presently recovering from an unrelated attack. Rest assured she is no longer in danger, but she has been more than gracious with her time and resources, and it's time this process were expedited.

"We are in need of some manner of council to institute a judicial process and determine the Doctor's fate in consequence to his crimes. I, along with several others who I hope will take this opportunity to reaffirm their commitment," You know who you are, "Have offered to serve on said council. Any other volunteers would do well to come forward now so that we might bring this matter to a timely resolution.

"However, considering the extreme diversity of our population, no single judicial body can hope to be representative of the group without maintaining an open forum for discussion. I would like to open that forum now." He paces himself here, his eyes straight ahead and his words clear, measured. "I ask each of you to consider the judicial process as it functions in your own world, and to share whatever expectations you may have as to the manner in and extent to which crimes such as those presently under examination should be tried and punished. I invite your input and encourage you to discuss amongst yourselves as well. While not all suggestions will be followed, it is imperative that every voice have the opportunity to be heard."

Letting that sentence breathe, he takes the moment for a sip of water before sliding on to the next topic.

"In the interest of transparency, I would also like to take this opportunity to present my own qualifications for serving on said council, and I hope any other volunteers will be inclined to do similarly.

( what are we waiting for )

"I welcome any questions, comments, or objections anyone may have, be it of my own background or the larger matters at hand." And with that he sits back to await responses.

ipseite

The past weeks have been- well, they've certainly been, haven't they. Petra's spent much of her time at work with one thing or the other, but it was with no small amount of relief that she left the direct handling of their prisoner in the hands of Jack Benjamin; certainly she's still holding his leash, but she's very interested to see how the young man in question handles authority. And, of course, it reduces the necessity of Petra's own direct contact with the Doctor - she'd like very much to help him, so far as she can, but that might be more difficult if she found herself compelled by impulse to shove the wand that she has from Professor Snape somewhere very uncomfortable.

...still, spreading tasks around (the Doctor's recent escape pinches her brows together, but Jack is handling it capably- she makes a mental note to invite Dr Yilmaz to share Master Wayne's wine at her earliest convenience) frees up some of her time, enough that she can finally make good on her promise to Lady Morgana. Speaking of Master Wayne, Petra glances at the device he gave her when they met and tucks it into a coin purse before she lets the maid lace her up and tidy her hair.

Her ventures outside the walls have remained few and far between; part of that has been the unsuitability of transport in Taxon. Without horses to drive the carriages (she's had a thought, but only a vague and half-formed one that's hardly top of her priority list), she relies on Extras bearing the palanquin that her sister-in-law was so pleased with, and without a hint of shame uses the inconvenience of traveling that way as an excuse not to do it at all. Watching the late afternoon 'bustle' of Taxon through a gap in the curtains as she crosses the city, Petra concedes to herself that it might be better if she tried a little harder. At least Master Wayne's home looks unobjectionable, as she approaches it- actually, she quite approves, and continues to do so after she arrives, expected, and Master Wayne sees her up to Morgana's room.

"My dear girl," she greets her, smiling, once they're alone with the one Extra who came in with her waiting outside the door with her cloak.

caballero

It's hard to tell if Bruce looks tired or if he's just suddenly gone stoic - outside his brief call to action during the bomb threat, the majority of his interaction over the tablet has been half-in-half-out of his fractured playboy persona, which he's cast aside completely by now. Either way, he's been quiet since then, and he's sitting with his back against something wooden and ornate; maybe a headboard, maybe a screen, and wearing a black t-shirt.

“This probably should have been spoken about sooner, but things have been overwhelming for most people here in the aftermath of the bomb threat.” Though he's clear and direct, there's a reserved quality to his voice that says he isn't used to giving speeches – and while that isn't necessarily true, it's always Bruce Wayne, billionaire playboy! rambling on at length about girls or booze or ill-fated political endorsements. This is different, and so, much more deadpan.

“A large number of bombs were planted throughout the city, and sentinel robots armed with rubber bullets and tranquilizer darts were sent to guard them. An initial blast was detonated during which, to my knowledge, most of the injuries occurred. Several people were injured in the process of assisting victims of the first blast and thus combating the sentinels or now-damaged remaining bombs. A second and final blast was detonated during which more people, mainly people who were trying to reach a safe area or the Brucolac's ship as far as I'm aware, were injured. Several people were gravely injured, a few only pulled through with emergency medical care, and while there were no fatalities amongst our number, several Extras were killed. The man who has claimed responsibility for this, known as the Doctor, was taken into temporary custody to keep him from accessing or detonating any other explosives he might have in the city. At the time it appears that there is no more nuclear or radioactive material in the city and that we are in no immediate danger of being blown to hell by one of our fellow abductees.”

He pauses and glances to one side at something not visible in the tablet's view, taking a moment. “Belatedly – this is an issue I'd meant to address personally before the bombing – there was a man here who was going by the name of Doctor Jonathan Crane. I'm under the impression that he was treating people here as a psychiatrist. If he gave you any advice or put you on any medication, I advise you to be re-evaluated by one of the medical doctors here immediately. He is a psychopath from my world who specializes in drugging and then using fear to torture people to death, and got pretty far on a plot for genocide.”

… Well that's blunt. It was something that Bruce was going to contact people individually about, but after the past week and all the invasions of privacy he's had to go through personally, he just doesn't have the stomach for it anymore. He's incinerating the remainder of his records and locking down the chemicals and that's just that.

“I understand that the situation with the individual known as Angelus is a sensitive one, as this is someone who is a colleague of several people here who's going through something unfortunate, but some of the things being broadcast lately are alarming. If there's any progress on this, or if further warnings to the population need to be issued, I'd appreciate an update.”