7342/Dollhouse

Dollhouse
Date of Scene:	12 August 2021
Location:	The Griffin
Synopsis:	The Ragdoll shows up! And off!
Cast of Characters:	Thomas Blake, Ragdoll

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Thomas Blake has posed:
The Griffin is a venerable old house: sturdy and respectable. Filled to the roof with sensors, cameras and a subtle electrified perimeter that has inconvenienced more than one neighborhood stray. There is also a stump that was uprooted and lies awaiting an axe or chainsaw.

Inside is Thomas Blake, he is neither old nor respectable but as sturdy as they come. He is dressed comfortably in sweatpants, a sleeveless and sideless shirt and bears a pair of matched blades secured in the small of his back. Thomas finds those comfortable too.

Thomas sips his coffee and looks at the Gotham Gazette when there is a rapping on his door.

The front door is jerked open. Blake draws the two blades that glow redly in the dark door. The shadows hide his features except for his green eyes. "You got faced son of a bitch. I may not be able to kill you but you're going to regret living when I get done with you i... oh. You're not Pan..."

Ragdoll has posed:
Ragdoll stands there in all of their glory, fully masked, yarn wig slightly askew and motley costume draped over his scrawny body. They move with a mixture of fluid grace and awkward, horrid suddenness, like some sort of great insect, constantly poised on the verge of pouncing or scuttling away.

"Catmaaaaaaaaaaaaan," they whisper through the mouth hole in the mask, a breathy, hissy thing, "I found out where you liiiiiiive! I found out where you liiiiive!" they say, bouncing back and forth between two feet, "I told you I'd come see you when we were both out in the world again. It took me a little longer than you. I blame the straightjackets. THey're soooooo comfortable, it's hard to give them up," they say, leaning forward and pitching their voice even lower.

"Can you pay for my Uber? I think I made him pee himself. Give him a nice tip."

Thomas Blake has posed:
Ragdoll gets yeeted into the house. Blake checks the street and sees no one except the Uber vehicle. It's making warp 9 already. He blinks and realizes he saved on a tip and left Ragdoll alone and behind him in his house.

He turns around and shuts the door. "Uber's taken care of. And I'm not working right now. Use my name." (When I am working next, it will be to murder the parson who gave you this address. Probably Killer Moth. He was always a dick.)

"So... how've you been? Are you free and clear, paroled, acquitted, escaped?" Got to be escaped. He's harder to hang onto that an oiled up succubus. He speaks from experience of succubi, or at least one.

Ragdoll has posed:
Ragdoll lands in a house in a pile, resting atop their head, legs splayed out to either side. There's a slight crackling sound as they shift their head around, "Oooooo, first name basis. Sweet. Okay, Tommy! I still prefer Ragdoll, my old name doesn't really feel right anymore. I had that guy removed with one of my surgeries," they say with an eerie snicker.

"I am technically still charged with a couple of slight murders, but they didn't have any fingerprints. I was railroaded. I mean, I did it, but they still framed me. Gotham cops gonna Gotham," they giggle. "But they can't exactly do power restraints on me since it's all so...complicated. I was going for my arraignment hearing and whoooooooooops, down the drain I went."

Thomas Blake has posed:
Thomas Blake tsks.

"Frames are just cheating. Did you have a PD or a real lawyer? I played it smart. I only went for the kill with Batman and Robin. They never showed for the trial and I had enough cat themed crimes to go to Arkham while any witnesses were either paid off or just suffered from faded memories. Framed. That's like us stealing money and claiming it was counterfeit." Metaphors are not his suit.

"So come on, I'll get you some coffee." If you were from Gotham you drank coffee.

Ragdoll has posed:
Ragdoll flops over and grasps a chair, pulling themself up and flopping in a rather unflattering fashion, limbs kind of haphazardly flopped in various directions.

"PD. I don't have money. Some of Daddy's cult want to pay for things, but then they wanna touch me and spend time with me and have me bless them. It's not worth it. They're so boring. They just want to be loved," he says, spitting at the last word as if in disgust.

"LOTS of sugar. Like. Lots and lots."

Thomas Blake has posed:
Thomas Blake pours out the coffee. He gives his mug a heater. "Oh my girlfriend stole a cult right out from under her dad. They have their uses. But I get that. Had one, wanted to put my boots on. I'd normally be worried about you taking a fucking Uber to my door, by the way. However, this is New York, not Gotham. The guy probably thought you were delivering a telegram or working a bridal shower. So... you hear anything from the lunchroom crowd? Blockbuster, Moth, Oswald?" (Yes tell me who put you onto me. I'm more restrained these days, probably just make their legs work like yours do. Once) Blake grins over his mug.

Ragdoll has posed:
Ragdoll bends their fingers back idly, making a clicking sound that they enjoy, "Ooooooooooooooooh la la, a girlfriend! Tommy and someone, sitting in a tree, F-U-C-K-I...." they say, then making a chattering sound with their teeth before slapping the side of their own head.

"Not too much. Even they don't like me very much. Not nice guys. Cobblepot's polite, but he likes to smell his own farts," Ragdoll adds with a giggle.

Ragdoll has posed:
Ragdoll bends their fingers back idly, making a clicking sound that they enjoy, "Ooooooooooooooooh la la, a girlfriend! Tommy and someone, sitting in a tree, F-U-C-K-I...." they say, then making a chattering sound with their teeth before slapping the side of their own head.

"Not too much. Even they don't like me very much. Not nice guys. Cobblepot's polite, but he likes to smell his own farts," Ragdoll adds with a giggle.

Thomas Blake has posed:
Thomas Blake takes out his wallet and shows Ragdoll a couple of pictures of Satana. They put the 'N' in NSFW. "She eats men's souls but she can be pretty sweet. Yeah well you know, I was always looking for connections, ideas for crime. You have any idea how hard it was to find cat themed property to steal? Then there was all the added expenses. I switched from cat themed to cat-MO'd a while ago. Almost never looked back and I finally figured out how to beat Batman once and for all. I moved out of Gotham, and I started robbing bad people. Bad people don't go to the cops. Bad people don't even come after you, they just steal more money." No point in revealing the string of yacht robberies using a catamaran. That was a new low at the time.

Ragdoll has posed:
Ragdoll stares at the pictures for a long moment, until some drool actually drips out of the mouthhole of his mask in a long string. He slaps himself in the side of the head again and goes, "Yowie wowie, she's, uh, well, she's...you know, she's..." and he just ends up having a full body shiver that probably shouldn't be questioned.

"That's not a bad idea. Bad guys are still dicks, too. Sometimes innocent people are fun, though, because they're all 'la dee dah, I'm so normal and so good, nothing will ever touch me, and then you RIP and TEAR at their innards with your fingers and they get this look on their face and it's very...satisfying."

"But I could give it up. For Lent."

Thomas Blake has posed:
Oh fuck. That is disturbing. It is disturbing that it is disturbing. Maybe those goddam group session in Arkham did him some good? He is moved from his revery to grab his photos away from the drool. Then he smiles.

I disagree, bad people are some of the most entitled assholes I have ever met. They think they're lions but they're posers and scavengers and when you get over on them, make them realize they are nothing... mmmmhmm... You leaved shaking and jacked, if even alive and they know, you're too nasty for them to touch and you'll be back when they make more money for you to steal. Then you go home and do body shots off this." He holds up the drool eliciting photo.

"I wish I had some to show you, of her where she's awake. She has a nice smile."

Ragdoll has posed:
Ragdoll cocks their head slowly, their skull over-rotating enough to put them slightly askew and upside down as they stare out through the holes in their mask, "I would like to meet her very much. I won't even touch her, I promise, because I don't want you to murder me for touching her, although it might be worth death although I'm not sure I should feel those things. Daddy would burn me for thinking things like that. But Daddy's dead," they say, giving a high pitched giggle at the end.

"I can help you do things. Whatever you want. You're my friend. I don't have many friends."

Thomas Blake has posed:
Thomas Blake sips his coffee. "She's a demon. She cheats on me, I cheat on her. I wouldn't lift a finger if you rogered her silly up on the roof. Though honestly... succubus. How I lived this long I don't know. It might be that magic cloth that I only half believed in."

"Yes you would be a big help. I can use help. I'm going after the most dangerous, insidious, and evil creature this planet ever produced, a global corporation. But come on I'll get you a room. You can freshen up and relax till she gets home. If she does get home tonight. She's keeping busy." He goes to put his arm on Ragdoll and retracts it after a second thought.

Ragdoll has posed:
Ragdoll wraps their arms around their legs, "I don't think I have a soul. Daddy said I did and I would burn in hell, but Daddy was a mean liar. Most of the time. I loved him so much," they say. Then they punch themself in the thigh with full strength three times.

"Oh, thank you, bruise, for reminding me."

They unfold their limbs and move with spider-like dexterity, scrambling over the furniture and then giving a wheeze as the Catman almost touches him. "A bath would be nice. Do you have a hair curler? I like how they get nice and hot."

Thomas Blake has posed:
Thomas Blake very deliberately gives Ragdoll the room farthest from Gabrielle. Then he says, "My dad said much the same while I got familiar with his lit cigarette. Well, don't worry about Hell, I know someone can put in a word for you and me. We'd probably get off light."