A son gone, a city in mourning. (Open)

@dreadpool10:

Ahh.

@_nox_ :

So just so we're clear, everyone knowws you did it right?

@just_an_average_man: No. But people speculate, I mean you don't have to be Sherlock to figure how it went out.

I stood serenely in the middle pew of the chapel. My holographic matrix shrouding my true features, lest anyone recognize me. The air was bitter. The chapel was crowded. There was weeping and jeering, but it was all lost in the silence that gripped every tongue. Those crying cried silently. Those jeering did so with respectful submission. I just stood and analyzed the situation. What does that say about me? Am I heartless? Cold-blooded? I didn't waste time asking myself. I just analyzed. Yet, every analysis came to the same conclusion. A chapel. A betrayal. A black mamba's bite. Death.

So, he's dead. Not really a shocker. All of them die sooner or later.

Who? People who become Dark Vengeance?

No. Heroes.

Elias, have I ever told you that you're a cynic?

On a daily basis for the past two months, actually.

You're a cynic.

Honestly, to me at least, this wasn't surprising. The Bat had always been lucky, ready for anything, and one step ahead. But everyone knew not to get on the League's bad side. He might as well have shoved a poison dart in his neck. Add to that the fact that this man was obviously not the actual Dark Vengeance and it all made sense. He'd been too trusting. It had cost him. The eulogy began. I could almost hear Mairi mentally frown.

Elias, is that guy...

Obviously.

Huh. I thought members of The League were supposed to be masters of intrigue.

Generally they don't test their lying skills against an AI that can read minds, Ms. Nosy.

Well excuse me for reading the killer assassin's mind. It's not like you should be thanking me or anything.

Thank you so much for telepathically discovering something I already figured out.

Your welcome.

I sighed. The time to pay respects had come. I walked towards the memorial of a brave, dead idiot, my heart sinking with every step closer. The niggling voice in the back of my head chided me with every breath I took.

That could be you Eli. You could be brave, dumb, and dead.

I hated that voice. Finally, I reached the casket and reached forward to touch it. A welt of sadness came and passed.

That could be you.

With a quality of softness so vast a mouse could hardly perceive my words, I spoke.

Hi. I know you can't hear me, and I know you don't know me, but I would just like to say that I have the utmost respect for your work. You did more good than you realize. I'm just sorry you had to lose a brother in the process. Trust me, I know the feeling. The thing is, all of us idiots who put on skin tight costumes and punch crime in the face looked up to you. You gave us hope. You were the paragon of everything we could be. And, though none of us will admit it, we'll miss the weekly stories of how you made entire criminal organizations crap their pants in terror. And we'll miss you. So next week, when a moon goddess, reality warper, or super scientist brings you back to life for whatever reason and everyone is saying, "OMG he was dead, but now he's alive again. I didn't see that coming at all," kick some ass for me. I'd appreciate it. Godspeed Vengeance, godspeed.

Then, I got up and walked away. I had better things to do.

@_nox_: @_vex_

Elliot looked around the reception, his hands in his pockets and ears where they always were, to the streets. A few people claimed to have seen him go, seen him die. But it was hard to tell crap from certainty. But didn't take much for eveyone to really tell who it was. However, Elliot came to see for himself.

He listened to his speech, listened hard. He looked at him as he gave the speech, his eyes intense on his. What came from his mouth could hardly mask what he'd see in the boys eyes. The regret he had and the sincerity of his words.

He really believes the sh** he's spewin' out.

This Vengeance was one to respect. He'd never really met with him or worked with him, but it would take guts to just go out into Gothic with just your dukes, some throwing shurikens and some nice armor. And really, didn't seem like he wa s much more then just a guy who trained hard enough. Maybe it will actually inspire some people to actually do something, to try to achieve their full potential...

Prolly not...

And then he just gets offed like this, although, kinda had to see that coming. Usually it's what happens to everything good that happens in this city, it doesn't last long. Too nice and not strong enough to back it up and the place will eat you alive. But of all the places and all the people for him to get offed, it was by his best friend, in a church?He stood by a bit of Drama, and the like, not really doing much but just standing by, waiting and watching from the sidelines.

This is all kinds of wrong. Everything about this is just wrong...but hell. What do I know? Maybe I'll give the kid the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he didn't do it. Not sure why he'd do this. But maybe I can ask him...

He gets a call. It's a job, he's needed. And he doesn't want to fail, not again, not with lives at steak. Still, he'd try to honor the man who tried to clean up the streets and bring a little hope into the city. He walked up, a bouquet of flowers in hand to the casquet where all the other flowers lie, the bright bundle contrasting his dark coat that hid body armor and weapons underneath for those just in case situations. and his rather grim facial expression.

"Maybe I'll see you in the next life, if I go where you're goin'. Hell, in the type of world we live in..." He says setting the flowers down with the rest and turnnig around, taking his leave.

"You might just come back. Either way, hope to see ya around."