bakerstreet | Bonnie to your Clyde

Bonnie to your Clyde

PARTNERS IN CRIME MEME

You're madly, hopelessly in love. You also just happen to be a crime duo. Whether you're bank robbers, pulling off jewelry heists, going on spree murders, committing arson, stealing candy from babies, or whatever else, you do it together. The Bonnie to your Clyde, the Thelma to your Louise. If you go down, you're going down in a blaze of glory that will always be remembered. Maybe you're on the run. Maybe you're the authorities chasing after the pair of criminals. Can you catch them? Bring them in peacefully? You have to try no matter what.

• Top level your character. Include any details you might think are relevant. Or don't. As always, we're not the cops.
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((ooc: LETS BE CRIMINALS TOGETHER!~ Keep in mind this is FAILED VIGALANTE flavor of The Joker but let's be real, he could EASILY be pulled into a life of crime! OTA~ EXTRA LOVE for DC/Marvel type folk! My first born child for a Deadpool LOL ))

A message from John is one of the last things Edward expects when his phone buzzes an alert while he's putting the finishing touches on an upgrade to his cane. He glances over the message, arching an eyebrow at the request, but he's not busy anymore, and he's curious about this Joker-but-not. And he can always throw the man out of his car on the freeway if he gets annoying.

Swinging the question mark-shaped cane over his shoulder, he whistles a jaunty tune as he heads over to the car parked in the ground floor garage-cum-workshop of the building he's claimed. A few seconds later and he's on the road, heading for where he was requested to meet the self-proclaimed vigilante.

The vibrant electric car (now with added question mark decals because how could he not?) pulls up near silently to the curb, no sign of the clown immediately apparent. Frowning in irritation at the possibility he's fallen for an unfunny prank, Edward reaches for his phone to call the man, still looking around in case he decides to show himself first. He's not in the mood to hang around long, given the alarms blaring nearby...

Alarms. "If he's trying to get me arrested..." It's bad enough getting taken in, but when he hasn't even done anything today?

The sound of manic laughter follows the approaching flurry of footsteps; John cuts sharply around a corner, a dodge so elegantly fluid is causes the security guard right on his tail to slam unceremoniously into the Stop sign the clownish man had slid around. Immediate hot pursuit foiled, He turns on the heel of one mismatched shoe and makes a beeline for the (totally awesome!) car he's summoned for his impromptu get away. Not that he mentioned that in his text.

He wasn't even fully expecting Riddler to show; the version he knew is still classified as a grade A jackass, so similar behavior wouldn't fall too far out of the realm of his expectations; but there's that very distinctive car (covered in Frank's handywork, no less!) and he can't say he's not very glad to see it. He could have figured out an alternative escape, but it's nice to have some reliable backup!

John dashes to the back door and throws it open, immediately tossing forth an armload of various shopping bags (at least it's not a bank robbery?) and then proceeds to dive in himself and yank the door shut behind him.

"Hey, buddy! Let's get somewhere else really fast, okay?" that wild grin cracks his too-pale face as he slumps back on the seat, catching a torrent of dizzily delighted chuckles in the palm he holds loosely over his mouth. "I don't think those guys chasing me understand that 'possession is nine tenths' thing at all!"

That laughter is familiar as ever - some things don't change - though he's grudgingly impressed watching the guard slam into the sign. It's a move he'd expect more from Harley or one of the birds over the Joker. But it's a good thing he pulls it off as John piles into the car.

Edward doesn't need to be told to move. He's fled enough crime scenes. As soon as John is in and the door is shut, they're accelerating away from the curb and weaving through traffic to get as much distance as possible. Rolling his eyes at the laughter still pouring from the man, he smirks despite himself. "They don't often care about that one, no. But whatever you got had better be worth it." A bank robbery may have be preferable, at least that usually guarantees a decent take. Custom question mark patterned suits don't buy themselves.

Rolling his eyes again, Edward glances in the rearview mirror as blue and red lights flash behind them. There must have been a car nearby; the GCPD isn't usually so effective. But it did offer an opportunity. His smirk is audible as he adds, "I promised you a demonstration as well as a ride. Strap in; I'm boosting the engine till we lose them." Not waiting for any acknowledgement, he flicks a switch on the dash, and the car surges forward, speeding through an intersection as the patrol car begins falling behind.

"Ohho~ Curious, huh? I'd be happy to play a little show and tell..." though his laughter is finally fading for the moment, it punctuates his thickly amiable drawl. "Once it's just you and me-- I can't stand those guys, so clingy!" his dirty jade gaze slants pointedly with a tip of his head towards the flashing blue and red lights behind them. Cops, uhg.

After a quick peek and a moment of haphazardly pawing through his bags, John proceeds to start his climb from the back into the passenger's seat; considering the grace of his recent dodge the awkwardness with which he guides his lanky limbs is a stark contrast.

"Oop, sorry, one sec--" he's far more entangled in his own (apparent ?) clumsiness than in Ed's space, but there is the occasion foot, hand, or elbow in his vicinity until John finally manages to get his own butt back under himself and properly into the passenger's seat.

"There we go, all set!" he flashes Riddler an enthused toothy grin and a sharp thumbs up gesture. His eyes gain a corrosive gleeful gleam at the mention of boosted engines; maybe it's a cheap thrill but it serves him all the same. He doesn't actually look for a seatbelt though, only grips his seat with fingers and knees aligned at its edge. His head cocks sideways as he pays special attention to which button Riddler presses, and suddenly the momentum throws him back into his seat.

"Oooh, nice moves," he cheers as they slice decisively through the intersection, releasing his vice-grip on the upholstery to clap his hand together and wring them with delight. "Try and follow us now, you-- Oh hey, the squad car ran a red! Can you believe these guys?" he looks like he's having way too much fun; there's a feral nature about him as he pins an unblinking stare to his getaway driver, smiles, and murmurs with far too much savoring anticipation, "so what are you going to do, now?"

"They are that. Never know when they've worn out their welcome. Or when they're outclassed." So he'll wait to satisfy his curiosity over what the burglary was over. Given he claims to be a vigilante, it should be interesting, at least. Or annoying if it turns out to be the joke at his expense, he still half-expects.

Frowning at the awkward scramble into the passenger seat, Edward leans away anyway, only half paying attention to John as he continues to weave through Gotham traffic. It's another piece of the puzzle that he is, one Edward doesn't yet have enough pieces of to solve. Yet.

He's not going to push on the seatbelt; they're not going to crash. Edward has more faith in his skills than that. But if John gets tossed about, that's not his problem. Grinning at the cheer, Edward glances in the mirror to see the squad car still after. His gaze cuts over to John, something in his voice and eyes getting under Edward's skin, egging him on. He always enjoys an appreciative audience. His smirk is sharp, eager and almost vicious. "Watch."

A few taps on the dash and the central display reconfigures itself, the speed display and other indicators shrinking to make room for a map of this part of the city and several icons around it. Edward glances over it and hums thoughtfully. "Let's get some more distance first and teach them to respect the rules of the road, hm?" Taping on one of the icons, a display of different traffic lights pops up on the map. Edward taps the one at the crossroads up ahead of them, and the light for the perpendicular lanes switches to green right as they blaze through. It doesn't stop the squad car as expected, but they have to swerve to avoid the incoming traffic, giving them the extra distance he's after. "Now, we just need to get to the right place," he mutters.

John merely grins agreeably as he vibes with the gloating superiority over Gotham's finest; most of them are boring little pawns, not nearly so interesting as the flashy company John prefers to keep.

Maybe John does have faith in Ed's driving; maybe he's too reckless for such trivialities as seatbelts, maybe he's too excited and full of antsy energy to even consider strapping himself down.

"I won't even blink," but he does shoot Ed a wink, the other man's grin adding feral fervor to his own. But then he's back to avidly watching Riddler's hands on all those enticing buttons. The transforming dashboard earns an impressed wolf whistle and while he doesn't actually touch anything, he demonstrates the severe temptation by wiggling his fingers in air just above the display.

"Your tech changed the lights? Genius!," maybe he's laying it on a little thick, maybe he's genuinely that impressed. "Yeah, let's do it! They need to learn to lead by example! Do you know how many laws they've broken in the last couple of minutes while chasing us like this?" he is absolutely egging Ed on, but it's all in the spirit of a shared grand time. An eerily ghoulish giggle slithers through his bare teeth as he twists in his seat to watch their pursuers.

If John keeps up with his admiration, he may not fit in the car anymore, given how Edward puffs up at the impressed response. The wiggling fingers he's less impressed by - a biometric lock on all inputs might be something to explore when he gets time - but John isn't touching anything yet, so Edward lets it be for now.

Besides, he's more interested in bragging. There's no such thing as laying it on too thick when he really is that impressive. (Maybe he should be wary that it's nothing but an appeal to his ego, but he's too smart to fall for such an obvious ploy.) "Easily. There's not much I can't do to Gotham. This city was mine once."

He's still grinning, even when the unnerving laughter comes again, nodding in cheerful agreement with the assessment of their pursuers. "They should set a standard, it's true." Glancing over the map again, he tapped at the screen again and a new icon, a flame, popped up. "We're coming to the tunnel under the river. Get ready to wave goodbye to our friend."

They swept into the tunnel, and Edward tapped the new icon. As the exit came into view, fire alarms started blaring, emergency lighting cutting in as the sprinklers began to spray down. The immediate panic among other drivers gave the squad car a host of new obstacles and worries greater than them as they tore back out into the streets.

"Yours-Yours? Or His-Yours? Because I knew that Other Guy, and I gotta say, I like you a lot better so far," John reels in his twitching fingers and binds them around the edge of the seat, a gesture that marks his promise not to touch any of the severely tempting little buttons and displays. The promising flame icon certainly catches his attention-- but it turns out the result is a lot wetter and less violently destructive than he initially ~~hoped~~ thought.

Okay, so he likes fireworks-- but the solution is definitely elegant. Using the city's emergency equipment against its emergency responders has an amusing irony to it, and as much as he naturally thirsts for destruction, his brain stumbles to remind him that it's not always the best option. It's a very clean solution, seeming to result in no more permeant damage than some smashing fender-benders and some very frustrated drivers. Frustrated is far better than burnt, crushed by tunnel debris, or dead.

"I was kinda hoping you were gunna blow something up-- but you know what? This is better. Neater. You definitely cooled off that hot pursuit!" he degrades into slightly deranged chuckles in response to his own tragically awful pun, and returns to a properly seated front facing position. He gazes forward through the windshield with a hazy satisfied grin, like that of a junkie post perfect first hit. "That was smooth, those guys didn't stand a chance at catching us! You're really good at this, glad I called the right guy."

Edward scoffs. As if that's even a question worth asking. Given he's alive while his counterpart is dead and rotted, it's clear who's superior. "Mine-mine. More completely than he could ever claim." It was a different Gotham, true, but so much of the city and its systems are the same that the distinction feels unnecessary. "I held the entire city, powerless, in the palm of my hand. It only still exists because I allowed it." And because of Batman, but he doesn't need to mention that.

The wordless promise not to touch anything is a relief - he'd rather not get caught by his own tricks, as he's quick to assume would happen—even the less damaging ones. "I'm saving the explosives for a special occasion," he replies smugly, the terrible pun not even enough to wipe away his smirk. The general lack of carnage is incidental more than anything. It was a convenient option and adequately displayed Edward's mastery over Gotham, which is the most important point.

One well-proven, Edward somehow managing to puff up, even more, his smirk almost a match for John's. "You couldn't have picked better." With the pursuit gone, he drops back down to a speed less likely to get them pulled over, but there's still no regard for other drivers as he cuts them off and swerves through traffic like every other car should get out of the way. "Now that we've got some space, where are we headed? You promised to satisfy my curiosity."

[I mean...]

[Not all gentleman pirates are cut from the same cloth, this is obvious. But like all old Frenchmen, Chevalle has a weakness for a pretty face.]

Wine, to calm ze nerves? [He'll offer. Likely not poisoned.]

Oh! Why yes, thank you. Very kind of you.

[Stede doesn't even consider that the wine might be poisoned. That would seem unsporting. And it would be rude to refuse a drink from his host.]

[ You know how it goes, one day you're assistant DA, the next day you're being blackmailed by the corrupt mayor, a couple months after that you're working as a call girl-cum-gunwoman in the seedy underbelly of the city. ]

[Here for criminals working together, pulling a heist, on the run, whatever! And open to any kind of partnership - friendly, romantic or just one of convenience. Just be warned there will be riddles at some point.]