1620: Love & Bullets – Chapter OnePosted: December 13, 2016
Title: Love & Bullets
URL: Love & Bullets – Chapter One
Critiqued by BatJamags (BadJamags and GoodJamags)
Hello once again, patrons! I’m your guest host, BatJamags, and I’m back with another awful Batman fic. I started writing a riff for something else (My Inner Life – I was considering it because it was the subject of the first riff I ever read, but as of this edit, Ert’s already riffing it), but the riff sucked, so I scrapped it. So, I just grabbed a Batfic I found when I was looking for Arkham Asylum. It looks pretty bad, so I figured I’d take a stab at it. We’re in for a long chapter today, and I’m really hoping the later ones don’t babble this much.
Let’s start with the summ-
WHAT THE HELL?!
*GoodJamags is standing in the middle of a smoking hole in the wall, surrounded by red-clad troopers*
You could’ve used the Door. It’s not like you ever shy away from inviting yourself in.
GoodJamags: Yeah, I know, but this time it’s a hostile takeover of your riff.
Are we sure you’re the good one?
GoodJamags: Of course! You can tell because your minions are called mooks and mine are called redshirts!
First of all, the mooks were mostly scrapped from the last riff except for one throwaway DRD trap.
Second, redshirts like the Star Trek ones?
GoodJamags: No relation (mostly).
Like Agig’s riffleet ones?
GoodJamags: Still no relation. Anyway, the point is that I’m going to riff with you now!
Lovely. As I was sayi-
GoodJamags: Let’s take a look at the summary!
Dick Grayson once told his best friend that the reason for why he couldn’t be with her romantically was because of the lives they led.
Nope, nope, you’ve already fucked it up.
GoodJamags: As my alternate universe counterpart expressed so eloquently, the levels of wrong here are gonna take some explaining.
First of all, most of you will (Probably? Not sure how bat-savvy you guys are) know Dick Grayson as Robin. Here’s the (also moderately well-known, but I should establish it anyway) thing: in the comics, he hasn’t been Robin for, oh, about thirty years? Maybe longer. Long story short, the dude grew up, and goes by Nightwing these days.
GoodJamags: He was actually Batman for a little while (Bruce Wayne was “dead” – he got better, because comic books), which makes our two favorite superheroes Batman and Batman!
Damn right. Anyway, Dick has something of a reputation for being popular with the ladies.
GoodJamags: What we’re trying to say is that, unlike Bats, he’s hardly going to shy away from a romance because of superhero stuff.
And then there’s the bit about his “best friend.” Canon-wise, Dick’s best friend would probably be either Barbara Gordon (Batgirl II/Oracle) or Wally West (Kid Flash I/Flash III). Maybe Donna Troy (Wonder Girl number-one-or-two-it’s-complicated/Troia/No-Code-Name-Because-That’s-What-The-Cool-Kids-Are-Doing-These-Days).
GoodJamags: Chances are pretty good, though, that the “best friend” is going to turn out to be a Mary Sue self-insert.
It’s one of the hazards of being a rare example of a designated fanservice guy.
For a time, the lie worked.
Then, the boss caught it sleeping on the job one too many times, and it got fired, and it was on unemployment checks until those ran out, and it turned to crime to pay the bills, and it was killed in a shoot-out with the police.
GoodJamags: Well, that got dark.
Then he finds himself sitting in a Chicago alley and realizing that the little thief had snuck around all his defenses and taken his heart hostage.
GoodJamags: Fortunately, Dick was an expert at handling hostage situations, and managed to capture the little thief without anyone getting hurt.
Oh, that means it’s over. Can we go now?
GoodJamags: We’re not cutting off my first riff that early!
And she wasn’t letting it go. T for mildly suggestive themes. *Complete*
Aww… that means we can’t make up our own ending when we’re done!
A/N: Hello m’dears… and welcome!
Please, if you like this story, click the follow/favorite button. Also, reviews are deeply cherished!
GoodJamags: Fairly inoffensive author’s note, aside from the odd choice of words with reviews being “cherished.”
Disclaimer: I own nothing but for Raya and all other OC’s that you encounter throughout this narrative, as well as the theme of the story itself.
“But for?” That’s weirdly pretentious for an unnecessary disclaimer.
GoodJamags: Ooh, look! A real line break instead of a dull_and_grim one!
There was a girl who loved a boy so much she said to the boy, “If I told you that I liked you, would you take it as a joke?”
Wow, you can really tell how much she likes him. She’s worried he’ll misinterpret her romantic overtures as a joke.
GoodJamags: I mean, I guess it could happen.
The boy said, “Yes I would.”
The boy was kind of stupid like that.
She asked, “Why?”
The boy said, “Because you are a joke.”
The boy replied, “Because I know you don’t like me, I know you love me!”
GoodJamags: You sure?
GoodJamags: He’ll respawn in a moment.
(credit goes too: rishikajain-dot-com)
GoodJamags: Say, can’t you find your own… weird… joke… anecdote… prologue… thing? Ooh, and another completely normal line break! It must be Christmas!
*BadJamags respawns in a pinstripe suit*
GoodJamags: Hey, we used to live near Chicago!
Fuck that place.
GoodJamags: That’s not fair. We were in a suburb; we didn’t even go into the city that often.
We got the general idea. Fuck that place.
Glad you spelled that out for us. Otherwise we would’ve assumed this was taking place at some other vaguely-defined time, like “back then,” or “sometime later.”
GoodJamags: Ooh! A present! Hang on, that must mean it is Christmas! (Editor’s note: I’ve realized that this might actually end up going up around Christmas, so that was accidental)
Are you usually this much of a moron?
GoodJamags: No, not really. It’s just fun messing with you.
Oh, these assholes don’t stand a chance.
GoodJamags: It’s just a riff. I think BadJamags and his minions can make it through.
Did you just call us assholes?
GoodJamags: Hmm… No convenient line break distraction here.
And that? That is a serious understatement.
GoodJamags: I know, right? This thing goes on forever without a single line break in sight!
I only gotta take one look at that face to see just how up the creek they are.
Yes, alright, the bad guys are going to get smacked around. Get on with it, already.
GoodJamags: Ooh! Can we use the Monty Python clip here?
Man, there is nothing quite like Raya Kean in full on pissed off mode.
Oh, I’m sure it’s very impressive.
GoodJamags: *To audience* He was being sarcastic there.
An astute deduction, Mr. Holmes.
GoodJamags: *To audience* He was being sarcastic there, too.
Why are you inflicting yourself on me?
GoodJamags: Because it amuses me.
She tends to go just a wee bit nuts whenever a member of the Batclan is in danger.
Because they clearly can’t take care of themselves, so it warrants irrational levels of anger, which, in turn, are highly conducive to fighting effectively.
GoodJamags: No, no, she only goes a wee bit nuts, not completely nuts. Or maybe the narrator’s being sarcastic. It would be easier to know that if he/she were showing instead of telling, wouldn’t it?
Let one of us get injured. That’s when the real fun begins.
GoodJamags: I was under the impression that getting injured wasn’t fun.
Neither is getting your skull caved in by an Imaginary Sword, but hey, sometimes it just happens.
GoodJamags: Don’t you talk smack about Billy!
See, Rae doesn’t sit back and wring her hands with worry, or merely storm about ranting and raving about things.
GoodJamags: Aha! Things!
Also, if someone was in immediate danger, storming about ranting and raving probably wouldn’t be anyone’s course of action.
Oh no. Not my Rae.
GoodJamags: Alright, so the nameless narrator is an Orange Lantern.
No, she tends to go into predator mode
No, no, no, predator mode is for the stealth sections; this is clearly a combat section.
GoodJamags: He’s referencing the Batman: Arkham video games.
STOP EXPLAINING EVERYTHING I SAY!
whenever a member of her family is being threatened by a band of hyenas.
GoodJamags: Well, that’s a weirdly specific thing to set someone off.
I mean, the Joker does actually have pet hyenas, so it’s not completely unreasonable.
Rayamight look like some sleek little black alley cat, but trust me, when she fights? She’s a tigress.
So our Sue is a shapeshifting cat.
GoodJamags: Wait, the Sue is Glasses?!
I hear garbage can lids clang together like cymbals. Only, it’s a dull, tinny sound rather than a steel intoned melodic one. Means someone’s skull just got caught between those lids.
GoodJamags: Wait, wouldn’t that mean that mean the garbage can lids didn’t touch each other?
Which wouldn’t be very much like cymbals, would it?
I glance over in time to see one of the goons holding his ears and yowling at the top of his lungs.
Shit, is everyone a cat in this story?
GoodJamags: We could be on Earth-C-Minus, an alternate universe populated by cartoonish anthropomorphic animal versions of the DC characters.
Shut the fuck up, man. No one cares.
GoodJamags: I care. *Sniff*
He’s about to get a knee to the face that is gonna shut him up right quickly enough.
Well, that was an awkward way to phrase a thing.
GoodJamags: I can’t help but read it in a cockney accent. ‘At shut ‘im up roight quickly ‘nough.
Can you, like, not do an accent ever again? That’s almost as bad as when I do it.
Er well, he was about to get a knee to the face until a double-fisted blow to the middle of Raya’s back staggers her, and drops her down to her knees.
One: Your grammar and syntax fucking suck.
GoodJamags: Two: Yeah, she’s a real dangerous combatant, what with how she’s already getting her butt kicked within seconds of Orange Lantern Narrator Guy babbling about how cool she is. Probably because she was wasting time with showy trashcan lid moves rather than keeping track of her opponents.
The behemoth standing over her delivers a sharp kick to her lower back that has my teeth gnashing, and blood pumping.
Not sure about your teeth, but I’m pretty sure the second thing is caused by your heart.
GoodJamags: Wait, wasn’t his (oh, let’s not pretend the narrator isn’t Nightwing) heart taken hostage?
There’s more to this case than we initially thought. Unless OLNG (no, let’s keep pretending until the author chooses to make it clear to us) isn’t Nightwing, and we’re dealing with two different hearts here.
Despite the armor and bulletproof fibers of her suit, I know Raya’s ribs, back and shoulders are feeling the effects of those blows.
GoodJamags: And you know this because…
Aha! OLNG must be psychic, which means he’s not Nightwing!
GoodJamags: Ah, but you forget that part of Nightwing’s costume is BLUE.
You win this round.
And fury fills me
So fury is a fluid?
GoodJamags: I thought it was a road.
It’s an overrated plotless piece of shit is what it is.
GoodJamags: Hey, there are probably patrons who like that movie. Stop alienating them by making blanket statements without backing them up!
YOU CAN’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO!
because I know bruises are already creeping over that creamy flesh.
GoodJamags: It’s usually the filling that’s creamy, right?
Well, in a manner of speaking…
GoodJamags: And you just ruined my doughnut joke. Thanks.
I try to stand, but my leg absolutely refuses to support my weight.
GoodJamags: How disrespectful.
I’m beginning to fear that it’s broken. And that frustrates me because I cannot help her should she find herself in a tight spot.
Because clearly members of the bat-family do not come armed with any form of iconic boomerang-like ranged weapons, and the bat-family also demonstrates how it is impossible to engage in any form of combat without the use of one’s legs.
GoodJamags: That would just be ridiculous.
Though, I really shouldn’t worry about her staying down for long. See, the other thing about my Raya? She’s no dummy. And she never comes to a fight unprepared.
Yeah, well, you also told us she was this fuck-off-awesome fighter and didn’t show us that, so pardon me if I’m skeptical.
GoodJamags: You are not pardoned! I sentence you… to continuing to riff with me!
From a specialized packet built into her left armored glove she releases a cloud of some kind of mist, an anesthetic I’m assuming. It’s definitely something new to her arsenal.
Because someone who’s ostensibly working with the bat-family never thought to pack knock-out gas before.
GoodJamags: Y’know… We’re kind of nitpicking here. Do you think this one might not actually be that bad?
Hang in there. It’ll go down the tubes eventually. It’s got all the warning signs.
The mist hits the hulking bear in the face when he bent to grab hold of her, but it does little more than surprise him.
GoodJamags: See? They’re not all cats! There’s a bear, too!
Until he begins to sway with the toxin’s powerful sleep inducing effect.
But you just said it did little more than surprise him. That’s a lot more than surprising, if you ask me.
*Alarms blare silently*
*Department of Contradictions Agency troops are invited to force their way in and headshot BadJamags in the chest*
GoodJamags: I am so very, very confused right now.
She cracks him over the head with one of the garbage lids before rolling up to her feet and turning towards the remaining four thugs with those cat-like eyes flashing, and teeth barred in a feral, wordless snarl.
GoodJamags: So, the other four thugs were just… hanging back and watching all that stuff happen?
*Respawning with a trashcan on his head* It is the Arkham games! And also? She’s clearly not a cat, because her weirdly flashing eyes are specifically cat-like.
GoodJamags: Fair enough, and I suppose that exonerates Glasses, but tigers are a different species from Felis catus. She could still be one of those.
Speed is her greatest weapon at this point and I can see that she wields it now with finesse and grace, never staying still, or in one place long enough for the remaining thugs to get their meaty paws upon her.
GoodJamags: And the other thugs have paws! We’re clearly dealing with some kind of anthropomorphized animals, and I’m betting on the funny cartoon kind.
Or they could be the basketball-playing kind.
GoodJamags: You think Herr would be associated with this thing?
I cannot help the trickle of pride that fills me at seeing how far she’s come as a fighter. We’re definitely a long ways away from those early days of her recklessly rushing into a fight without having first fully assessed a situation.
Both: You’re really not.
And I know that I should not be talking about her recklessly rushing into a situation when I’m the one who allowed my anger and personal hatred for Tony Zucco to cause me to rush into this situation in the first place.
And I know that I should not be talking about awkwardly shoe-horning exposition into my narration when I’m the one who allowed my desire to snark at this fic to cause me to awkwardly shoe-horn exposition into my narration in the first place.
GoodJamags: Ow, my brain.
She is definitely gonna bust my balls for having walked headlong into this trap. See, the other thing about her? She’s not the kinda woman to ever allow an opportunity to say “I told you so,” to pass.
GoodJamags: Sounds kind of smug and superior.
We’ve got a Sue, alright.
I hear shruikens sing
GoodJamags: What’s a shruiken?
And why are they singing?
as they slice the air
And they’re singing so poorly that it’s actually cutting the air.
GoodJamags: “Nor do not saw the air too much with your hand thus, but use all gently, for in the very torrent, tempest, and (as I may say) whirlwind of passion, you must acquire and beget a temperance that may give it smoothness.” Hamlet, Act 3, Scene 2.
That was pretentious and irrelevant.
GoodJamags: Your face is pretentious and irrelevant.
I fucking give up.
and know instantly at whom she’s aiming the projectiles. It’s who I would have aimed the darts at, in fact.
Darts =/= Shuriken
GoodJamags: Ah, but these are Shruikens, which are singing, air-cutting darts.
You don’t get to use that word in the narration. I don’t care if it’s in first person. You just don’t.
twins drop almost as soon as the neurotoxin laced-tips puncture their fleshy jowls.
GoodJamags: That’s some fast-acting stuff.
A metal pipe is then scooped up in one hand and turned into a modified bo-staff,
Who actually did this, however, shall remain a mystery for the ages.
GoodJamags: Hey, authors, protip: The passive voice shouldn’t be used by you, unless it is absolutely needed by you.
and the sound it makes as it connects with fragile bone has an echo of pain throb in my own.
Whatever that means.
She’s definitely not tempering her blows.
GoodJamags: Whatever that means.
She totally got that from Bruce.
Oh, she just gets all kinds of things from canon characters. Like Catwoman’s cat obsession.
GoodJamags: That one might be from Jenna Silverblade, though.
One thug is able to finally get his arms around her. I watch as he lifts her up into a bear hug, and hear him laugh as he squeezes her.
GoodJamags: She’s fighting, what, five or six guys here?
By bat-family standards, this is a pretty shitty performance.
GoodJamags: Also, more bears.
Well, he’s not gonna be laughing for long. Least of all when she bashes him over the head with that steel pipe he forgot about her still holding in one hand.
OK, this thug is an even bigger moron than she is. DURR, I FORGET ENEMY HOLD BIG PIPE.
GoodJamags: He’s not a moron, he’s just… uneducated.
GoodJamags: Your face is uneducated.
Well I don’t like you very much!
GoodJamags: I’m OK with that.
GoodJamags: Yea, verily, buddy-eth.
steel don’t feel so good when it gets cracked against the ole noggin’, huh?
He never said steel felt good!
GoodJamags: Hey, this is a pretty long chapter.
You’re right. I guess we’ll have to cut this short, folks. We’ll finish up next time.