“Looking like a sudden case of cement poisoning, sir.“ @DevoutVendetta captured his heart. #DCRP #GCPD #AnansiBoyz #ParodyAcct
Gotham
Joined December 2019
- Tweets22.8K
- Following178
- Followers232
- Likes2K
Pinned Tweet
“When there is crime in society, there is no justice.” ~ Plato
Marcus Driver ||
Gotham Detective || #DCRP
Descriptive || Detailed || 5yrs RP
Looking for SLs || DM for Plotting
FC - Toby Leonard Moore|| Penned by #AnansiBoyz ||
Marcus glanced at his phone. Helena.
He was halfway through a report, cold coffee at his elbow, a stack of case files that hadn’t gotten any smaller since noon. Across the bullpen, somebody was arguing with Evidence about a missing weapon.
Same old Gotham.
He checked the +
matter that he told himself not to. He’d still look.
Because when it 𝘸𝘢𝘴 her, when those eyes cut through the room and found him, it changed the temperature. Shifted the math. Made the noise in his head drop down to something he could manage.
He set the glass down, fingers +
@DevoutVendetta
Driver worked the glass like it owed him something. Cheap bourbon. Burnt edge. It hit the back of his throat and stayed there. Proof he was still upright, still breathing, still in the game.
Shift had run him raw. Two scenes, one body, too many stories that +
Everyone pretending they weren’t watching everyone else.
Door opened.
Driver’s head turned. Automatic. Muscle memory. Eyes flicked up, sharp, scanning, silhouette, gait, hands, threat level. Not her.
Door closed. Back to the glass.
He rolled his shoulder, felt the pull +
Driver took another sip. Let it sit. Let it sting.
The bar was half-lit and half-dead. Neon beer signs buzzing like flies. A jukebox coughing up something slow and tired. Two suits at the end talking low, eyes too sharp. Bartender polishing a glass that didn’t need it. +
No ask dressed up as something softer. He wasn’t built for that.
For all he knew, Helena was out there breaking something— or someone into manageable pieces. She had her own gravity. Her own orbit. You didn’t pull her in. You just waited and hoped the trajectory crossed yours.
+
didn’t line up. Gotham humming like a live wire under wet skin. He could still hear the radios in his head: squawk, code, static, someone shouting over someone else. It never shut off. Not really.
He’d sent the text ten minutes ago.
📲 You around?
That was it. No flourish. +
@DevoutVendetta
Marcus almost missed the date until the florist on the corner shoved it in his face with red paper hearts taped to the window. Gotham didn’t slow down for holidays; it just found new ways to make them complicated. Still, he’d stopped on the way home and bought +
Marcus shrugged, suddenly self-conscious. “Figured Gotham takes enough from us. Didn’t want it stealing this too.”
When she stepped into him, arms wrapping tight around his middle, he felt the day, the week—hell, the whole city—fade into the background hum.
For once, there +
@DevoutVendetta
Driver’s boots hit the threshold before his keys even made it out of his pocket. The apartment smelled like stale coffee and cigarette smoke—his, 𝑚𝑜𝑠𝑡𝑙𝑦, but there was something else underneath, faint but familiar. Helena.
He kicked off his shoes, the +
shoulders ached, his neck stiff, every step from precinct to precinct still clinging to him.
“I just got your text now,” he said to for all he knew just himself. “I didn’t have a chance to look until now.” His hand ran through his hair, tugging it back. “It’s been a… +
transparent holo-pad. The screen cast a faint glow over his weathered face, highlighting the sharp edges of his jaw and the deep grooves under his eyes. His trench coat, waterproof but perpetually damp from Gotham’s poisoned atmosphere, hung heavy around his shoulders.
The >
device crumbled into a pile of smoking metal. When the flare subsided, the alley was plunged back into silence.
“Lyndon!” he barked into his earpiece. “Tell me you caught that!”
Static. No reply.
Lyndon had gone offline. Probably a glitch, or more likely, the flood of >