Un centre correctionnel pour jeunes abandonné du côté sud de Gotham
-- Remettez-le à moi, dit Trent, alors qu'il se penchait vers l'avant de la banquette arrière. Son visage émergeait de la brume qui s'asseyait comme un nuage dans l'ancienne Sedan. Chance nettoyait juste son FN Five-Seven, en en donnant une autre une fois de plus, parce que les cinquante premiers chèques n'étaient pas suffisants. Tandis qu'il éteignait sa pièce, ses mains commencèrent à errer du haut de son corps jusqu'au bas. S'assurer que tous les morceaux dans ses poches, sur sa ceinture, et holstered étaient présents avant qu'il repousse. "Répète quoi? Votre commande de sandwich chez Marty?" ce commentaire était accompagné du conducteur de la berline, Lisa, secouant la tête et souriant. Trent s'est retenu, je devrais m'en prendre à l'enfant, mais la dernière chose dont j'ai besoin, c'est son anomalie qui m'attrape le bras et le brise. "Pas de crétin, le plan."
Les trois amigos, en quelque sorte, se sont assis devant l'endroit où tout a commencé pour Chance, l'établissement correctionnel pour jeunes du côté sud de la ville. L'établissement a été heureusement fermé il y a quelques années après que quelques-uns des employés aient énervé le mauvais côté du système de justice de Gotham. On avait dit que tout n'avait pas été retiré de l'installation lors de sa fermeture « inopportune ». Donc tous les médicaments que Chance pourrait mettre la main sur lui aideraient certainement les gens du coin.
"Tout d'abord, je vais dans cette porte à droite," doigt traçant l'avant du bâtiment jusqu'à ce qu'il rencontre les portes doubles, "là." Trent lui a donné les vieux soins 360 et s'est dit : "Alors, c'est là que ça devient bon Lisa donc attention," il a mentionné comme il a donné un coup amical sur son épaule. "Puis je retourne vers la zone du labo où toutes les expériences folles se sont passées." Donner un peu de main de jazz pour accompagner son discours. "Ce qui, si ma mémoire me sert bien, est le meilleur endroit pour entrer, saisir les marchandises, et revenir à la maison Martin avant que le dîner ne refroidisse."
Lisa a commencé à remarquer que Trent avait assez d'absurdités de Chance alors elle est allée lui donner un coup de poing sur le bras. Peu importe, Lisa vient tout juste d'être présentée à la conduite pour les Hoods, et c'était donc la première fois qu'elle travaillait avec Chance. Sans manquer un battement, le bras droit de Chance s'est serré sur son poignet avec son bras gauche en remorquage pour sécuriser son articulation de l'épaule. Dans un mouvement rapide son « amélioration médicale » a pris le dessus et a cloué son épaule au volant tandis que le reste de son bras était tenu tendu prêt à se casser.
"Chance!" Trent avait crié sur les sièges devant lui. Le corps de Chance était déjà tendu en transition vers son état normal. Les yeux descendirent pour voir les dommages potentiels qui avaient été causés. Alors qu'il inhalait, il regardait Trent avec un clin d'œil. Abaissant son masque et regardant à gauche et à droite pour tous les sommets de cerises potentiellement dans la région, Chance a décollé.
"Qu'est-ce que c'était que ce bordel d'amour?" Lisa s'est excusée alors qu'elle s'était réconfortée d'avoir les deux bras attachés à son corps. Les yeux de Trent ont été entraînés sur Chance tandis que l'enfant s'enfonce lentement dans le bâtiment à travers les portes doubles. "Apparemment quand tu as été embauché, ils ont laissé un détail très important sur notre enfant star ici. Ne jamais, EEEEVVVER, faire des mouvements d'éruption vers lui. Voyez cette installation ici." Ses yeux ont évalué le bâtiment alors que Trent continuait : « Nous aurions pu frapper une clinique, un magasin de coin, n'importe quoi d'autre pour essayer d'attraper ces médicaments. Cependant, c'est ici qu'ils ont baisé ce gamin. Donc, en plus d'avoir ce que nous voulons, il sent un petit sens de la justice voler à ces enfoirés." La jeune femme était encore dans un état confus mais comprenait lentement la situation. Même si tout ce prétendu mombo jumbo était la cause de son attaque était vrai, elle ferait encore bien de se conformer à cette règle simple. "Maintenant tirez la voiture jusqu'au coin de l'immeuble afin que nous puissions avoir une bonne vue des deux extrémités de la rue."
Pauvre putain de fille, pourquoi dois-je être un tel monstre?! Un tas de putains de boulots dans cet endroit m'a vraiment fait un numéro. Chance penserait alors qu'il descendait la lampe torche du couloir d'abord. Tous les souvenirs inutiles lui sont retournés à la tête des jours où il a passé enfermé dans cette maison de torture. Heureusement, il a été écrasé, couvert de saleté, de pourriture et de toiles d'araignées. Enfin, il a trouvé une des anciennes cartes de l'installation sur les murs. "Voyons ici, nous avons la chambre et la salle de réunion, la cuisine, il y a quelques-uns des vieux salons et boom," la main de Chance a frappé le papier, "Le labo."
Comme si sa main coupait un bouton en ouvrant une trappe d'un film d'Indiana Jones, un bruit fort pouvait être entendu dans le hall accompagné d'une série de grincements comme des rats qui arnaquaient. Dessinant son pistolet lentement, il l'a jumelé à sa lampe de poche alors qu'il se dirigeait vers l'origine du bruit. Idéalement, je n'utiliserai pas ça sur qui que ce soit au bout de cette salle. La dernière chose dont j'ai besoin, c'est de faire du bruit inutile et de mettre des looes sur mes bourgeons dehors. J'espère que ça va effrayer cet enfoiré.
La traînée de rats s'est retournée vers un placard qui était à peine ouvert. Il avait largué sa lampe de poche sur des moments antérieurs dans l'espoir de mieux masquer sa présence. Les yeux s'ajustent finalement à l'obscurité alors que le museau de son pistolet s'asseyait à l'ouverture de la porte. Nous y voilà, et dans un mouvement rapide, il a ouvert la porte et piété son chemin dans la pièce. Le seul agresseur de ce jour était un seul bâton de balai qui avait été mis à l'écart de la porte. Ce bâtard de bois a quitté le lieu de repos et a fait que c'était bien droit pour le dôme de Chance. Corps, prenant le relais de la manière la plus inutile, mène son bras gauche pour saisir le balai et le lancer au sol. Avec un grognement de douleur rapide dans son corps pendant que son esprit reprenait, il secoua la tête alors qu'il se tournait pour décoller.
Bien qu'il ne se soit pas complètement détourné de la porte. Quand Chance a déplacé la lampe de poche jusqu'au niveau des yeux, elle s'est déplacée sur quelque chose qui scintille. Il a trouvé un rat courageux qui n'avait pas encore quitté la scène. Il ne pouvait pas finir cette phrase parce qu'un sentiment de rage recouvrait son corps instantanément. Le rat n'était pas un rat courageux, mais un gros con qui sortait. Le repas de choix? Des petits morceaux de viande qui s'accrochent encore à une main osseuse posée sur le sol. L'esprit de Chance a tiré directement sur la seule chose plausible que la main avait une fois appartenu aussi. "Je vais les tuer, chacun d'entre eux, si quelqu'un réside encore dans un rayon de 10 miles de la ville, ils vont putain de mourir!"
Name: Lucas Williams
Alias: Chance
Age: 27



Physical description: Utilizing a background in Judo and Boxing he has kept a lean physique most of his life. Chance stands at around six foot even thanks to his Merrell combat boots. His clothing of choice in his line of work is a grey spandex top, a snake skin pattern tactical pistol over strap, grey 5.11 cargo pants, and air force blue Merrel's. With so many mysterious folk in this day and age he chose to don a mask as well. An off white full mask that has a couple of spades spread out on it was his choice. Thinking a playing card theme would go nice with the Alias he fell into.
Abilities: Through years of utilization he has been able to understand his "gift". Hand to hand threats that approach him in an abrupt manner will trigger his "sixth sense" of sorts and give him the ability to react accordingly. This has been able to give him the edge in several fights over the years. However, a noticeable pain comes with the initiation of this ability. Once his body has reacted to the blow his brain sends a shock through his nervous system. It would seem the medication didn't necessarily take away his migraines all together, but more so redirected them. His muscles seize momentarily as control of his body leaves this "medicinally" induced force and returns back to his control. It has definitely left him more cautious over the years to abrupt welcomes from others.
History: "Order in the court! We are here to finally put to rest the case of 16 year old Lucas Williams who has been accused of two accounts of murder in the 1st degree." Judge Faden placed his gavel back down as his eyes fell on the young boy. With a long breath releasing from the Judges mouth he directed his attention to the attorney appointed over Lucas. "Anything else you would like to bring in defense before we issue our final judgement?"
We all know where this goes. A young boy thrown into the face of distress, chaos, and darkness under pretenses locked in shadow. Mark and Elizabeth Williams were murdered in cold blood, just like several cases handled early that month. Different people from around Gotham were being dropped like flies, but unlike other cases being handled at the moment local detectives were able to find a knot that tied all of these threads together. When unraveled and laid out the thread spelled "Lucas". First, an English teacher from Gotham City High was gunned down in an alley. Secondly, a judo teacher's body was recovered from the side of the river just outside of the city. Finally, we have his parents knocking on Heaven's door.
The English teacher, Miss Hatcher, was known for having a terrible relationship with the young Williams boy. Upon further research into their interactions they found out she was filing for his expulsion on account of his constant misbehavior at school. The Judo Teacher, Mr. Darius, would toss him into the fire in every training session. From embarrassing him in front of the class, for his crass behavior, to almost knocking the boy out on several occasion. The bond they shared was laced with animosity. Finally, his parents. For reasons unknown to him he had been thrown into these weird medical trials by them. Sure, he had intense migraines, but why couldn't he just go to the damn hospital like "normal" kids his age? Nooooooo, his father had to find another cheap route to accomplish a simple task. At least they gave him a local psychologist to monitor his mental state. These migraines would weigh on him in regards to his "anger issues". Which made the psychologist even more necessary.
The Elliot medical foundation was offering a volunteer study on a new medication that could have the potential to cure migraines permanently. With all great trials though, have the potential for a few hiccups every now and again. Hiccups may be a poor choice of words. A few dead teenagers pushed under the rug may have earned a word with more severity behind it. The drug was having an adverse affect on those children in particular by pushing those migraines into overdrive. Essentially, they fried their brains. When you signed the dotted line though, that little bit of information wasn't listed in the fine print.
Lucas began his trials at 15 years old. With his birthday only a month away his mother was naturally wishing for a miracle. Well, she was wishing for a miracle when she wasn't looking at the bottom of a bottle. First she has to deal with a husband who doesn't resemble the man she said "I do" too and now a son whose anger episodes rival a freight train with the breaks blown out. If this "miracle" drug pulled through, she would only have to deal with half the pain. You want a miracle Elizabeth? Well, you are gonna get something close.
The trial was over, Lucas walked out to see his family and, at first, it seemed nothing was wrong. That was exactly the initial miracle. Nothing was wrong anymore. Months would pass and no migraine would grace his brain. God shined bright on those last few months the Williams family had together. Until the day finally came that sent him on a journey into Gotham's underground to try and find a piece for himself. That day was rang off with two thunderous sounds.
Bang, Bang
Two shots, Two bodies, and a distraught son. It all went by in a whirlwind. By the time Lucas had realized what had happened the assailant already hightailed it out of there. Where do we go from here? A court room that is where. Which brings us to the spot we began with, only a few months before his 17th birthday at this point. A defense built up by Medical money we come to find out with a little bit of digging. A judge bought out by local thugs so his moral compass was spinning in circles. It wasn't Lucas vs. his parents that day in court. It was the Lucas vs. the entire underground at this point. Why?! What had he done?!
The gavel crashed on that day and sent Lucas straight into the arms of a Youth correctional facility. That is when things began to get clearer over the years. Sure, he was seen by a doctor in attempts to "correct" his mentality. Utilizing different medical practices to unlock the core issues that lay in his brain. What a fucking great cover. This wasn't a damn correctional facility. It was a monitoring facility on the successful test subjects from the Elliot Foundation. Those bastards were trying to figure out why Lucas didn't die that day. With the cat scan x-rays from the day of his successful trial they had a bag full of curiosity to go with it.
With scan in hand, the doctors were in awe that the drug didn't enhance his migraines like the others. The drug seemed to have altered the young boys very mind. They would be insane not to figure out what the drug did do to Lucas! Oh, and they got their answer. During a normal day of scheduled tests on the boy an orderly went to strap him in and send him on his way to the gauntlet of doctors. Lucas did not react as per usual that day. The orderly reached their hand out and he grabbed his wrist perfectly and flipped him over him into the wall. Shock would stretch over the boys face and body. Once he shook it off he muttered, "What the fuck...how did I see..." and then stopped as he looked up and noticed freedom was knocking. 19 year old Lucas jumped to his feet and crept out into the hall. Bobbing and weaving from trash can to gurney while making his way out the front door.
"...I saw his hand...before his hand got to me." He looked down at himself as though staring at a stranger. The one thing he did notice on this enigma that was his body was his patient gown. "Shit," he said aloud as he took off for an alley way. I need to find some clothes now before I get spotted thinking to himself as he scanned the local stores. Thankfully, a clothing outlet was locked up for the night that he may be able to...oh shit. Three thugs had stormed across the road toward the store, eyes searching back and forth as they began to break in. If he remained quiet, he should be able to snag a few clothes and not get seen.
Too late, they triggered the alarm. "Fuck!" one screamed out as they busted in anyway. Adrenaline could do crazy stuff sometimes. Lucas booked it for the store. The thugs were grabbing anything they could carry from the store while he was snagging the first pieces of clothing he could find. Time was up though. The cherry top could be seen from anywhere in that store. Two local Gotham PD slugs made their way into the store looking around. The fire fight wasn't too far behind. One thug would rush the cops with a bat out while the other two fired shots peppering the silhouettes of where they thought the cops were.
"Gotta go now, gotta go now, gotta go now...," Lucas would encourage himself briefly before taking off. Accidentally smashing down different clothing racks as he tried to rush past the cops. His momentum would be stopped by a third cop coming in from the door way. "Hey you little shit, you better..." was the last word he would utter as Lucas used that cops momentum from the grab to swing him, face first, into the doorway. "How the fuck do I keep doing th..." the shock overcame his body briefly again.
The thugs had dispatched of the other two cops and were making their way out of the store when they approached Luke. "Kid, if you wanna stay out of trouble, you better follow us now." Without missing a beat, he took off with the two thugs and an injured one in tow. This is stupid, this is fucking stupid right?
So stupid, fucking STUPID! he thought to himself slowly realizing that these guys could very well be blood thirsty murderers.
As they rounded another alley and jumped into a four door Caddy, they sped off. Cheers were heard from two as Lucas held pressure on the wounds of the third guy in the back. "You know kid, that was some quick thinking on your part back there. I mean," he let out a chuckle ,"Did you see the fucker's face bounce off the damn door way?! It was like BOOM you're outta here!!" They all let out a chuckle. The young man's eyes shot from one person to the next in the car. Slowly, however, he began to let out a laugh too. A wave from his past experiences were all crashing down on him and now running back to sea. It felt like he could finally breath.
Turns out, the three goons worked for a lower end gang known as the Hoods. They brought he kid into this suburban home just out near the city limits. "Pops, we are back with a hall from this last hit." One would shout into the house as he flipped on some of the down stairs lights. The other able bodied one brought the clothes to the living room area and dropped them into different, pre made, cardboard boxes. Down the stairs you would hear thunderous thumps. Maybe they became more thunderous because of Lucas's adrenaline still running wild. An overweight man of Italian decent, donning a white tank top and sleeping pants met them at the door. "What did I tell you about coming straight back here we...," he took a puff of his cigar and gestured at Lucas, "We running a day care?" The pops name was Vinny Martin, he ran this outfit of sorts.
"Oh! Pops!" one of the thugs ran over and put his arm around me, "Meet our new 'muscle' in training uhhh...what was your name again kid?" Fuck, fuck fuck, what do I tell them? I can't use my real name. I don't know who these people are. However, they did help me...I mean what are the chances that I...chance...CHANCE, "Chance!" he shouted abruptly. Vinny and the thugs were taken back by the shout. Then the fat bastard began to chuckle. "Well if Dean here vouches for your loud mouth, then I guess I gotta give you a shot for a bit don't I?"
They sat down with Vinny, telling them the tale of their chance meeting. Two of the thugs even showed a reenactment of how 'Chance' took out the one cop in front of them. Putting out his cigar he looked over the dinner table at the young man and began to explain. "Look kid, you've got guts. This world ain't as clear cut as we would hope. Gotham will chew you up and spit you out if you let it. I mean, you working for us is a...heh...'Chance' in itself," he laugh at his joke then a serious tone came over him. "Tell me kid. Why do you think we stole those clothes today?"
Chance looked back at the boxes and noticed different words in sharpie written across them. "Boys? Girls...are you guys," turning back toward the group, "stealing for...kids or something?" Vinny shot a grin, "Strange right? A group like us getting our hands dirty in such a manner. Now don't you worry, we get our cut from the right people. However, anything that says 'Gotham' on the side of it's car, we don't show a damn lick of trust." Vinny had made his way over to Chances side, "We kill, kid. We fucking steal, kid. We get ours, kid. However, so do the poor degenerates this city forgot about too. Not all heroes have to wear a cape. But I will be damned if anyone of us bows down to the slimy fucks of this town. Am I making myself clear?"
Chance just nodded
"Alright. Well then tomorrow morning we see where you are at. Get some rest in the attic. Dean, grab the boy some pillow and some sheets." Everyone began to get up and go back to doing their work. Chance thanked everyone for this opportunity at a new life. As he made his way up the stairs Vinny hollered at him. "Hey Kid. I know you can flip people around and nonsense. You ever fired a gun though? You ever boxed?" Chance would just shake his head in return. Vinny nodded, "Well then, tomorrow is gonna be a fun day."