Answer the question; but question the answer.
"You just need to ask yourself, which rules you more? Is it your fear... or your curiosity?"

{{ Independent RP blog for Renee Montoya, the Question. DC Comics pre-New 52. Read the "Rules." }}

FC: Michelle Rodriguez

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DC players: Reblog if you are an Indie Pre-52 canon blog

Y’all need a masterlist <3

My friend Roz made a catwoman you should all totally follow!



It’s her first foray into DC RP, so show her some love.

Time Without Pity. (open)

Most days, the inbox of is full of guttural nonsense from people who have seen the ads and thought it wise to send pestering spam mail. Their questions ranged, on average, from ‘Can you help me find my car keys,’ to ‘What is the meaning of life,’ to ‘What is the airborne velocity of an unladen swallow.’

To make matters worse, they never specified ‘African’ or ‘European.’

But earlier today, she had gotten quite the interesting message. One she’s been reading over and over again in her head as she sought out the appropriate address. ‘I can’t prove anything, but I know these people were involved with the death of a beautiful young woman. She was the sweetest thing. Never did nothing to nobody. This address, please… Please look into it. Please help me. I do not know what to do.' She hardly knows who sent it, nor does she want to. The importance of this case is the questions, not necessarily the one who seeks the answers.

At first surveillance, it seems to be a fairly common weapons-smuggling facility. And yet, the way the operation seems to be run suggests something far more… sinister. Renee, with a leather gloved hand, swipes her finger against a puddle of blood outside the warehouse, and brings it to her eye to examine. Rolling the tip of her thumb against it, she sees it’s half-thickened, well on the way to coagulation… Several hours old, at least.

Sparing a moment to adjust her fedora, pinching the brim of it with two fingers and pulling it down, she parkours her way up some crates lining the outer wall, and slips into the window with almost no noise made. Her long black coat flaps in the wind behind her as she lowers herself inside, and carefully makes her way through the shadows. When she steps out of them, she’s palming a small black sphere with a red button behind her back, with such practiced legerdemain as to make it completely unnoticeable.

"I suppose you think this is terribly clever," the faceless woman speaks suddenly, stepping out from the darkness as though materializing from thin air. "Masquerading as a legitimate chemical and arms dealer, so you can blame any and all ‘mishaps’ on simple miscalculations, testing mistakes, and acts of god… I only wonder how many have been made to suffer for the sake of your very much intentional ‘miscalculations’. Tell me, how much did the GCPD charge to change the official definition of your little organization here from ‘murder syndicate’ to ‘legitimate pharmacy’? I’m betting it was astronomical, and that you probably had to cut your dental plan to accommodate. Dental’s always the first to go, eh?”

It’s a bold assertion, and a bolder entrance, considering she’s exceptionally outnumbered and rather outgunned— a point made quite obvious when two dozen hammers click into place, their respective barrels all pointed at her.

But she has a theory. And a backup plan.

Both of which will come in handy soon.


Helena missed Renee’s sence of humor and how easily they fell back into their own rhythms, no pressure or expectations or formalities. She might of thought to bring an umbrella earlier if she’d been prepared for Gotham’s unpredictable forcast but she had forgotten and was still adjusting. Instead she just laughs and shakes her head.

Too out of shape? Oh please. She trained with a former member of the league of assassins - she hadn’t been out of shape since she was eight years old. Helena punches the woman beside her, rocking onto the balls of her feet, and despite the impractical footwear she is currently wearing, she keeps up easily after they set off. There is only one question she asks as they head to Renee’s place. It’s been bugging her, an itch she can’t scratch.

You can take Huntress out of the game but it’s a lot harder to take the game out of Huntress and if she is coming back, she needs to know the situation, how the deck is stacked. “Any funerals I should know about that maybe didn’t make the news?” Because the ones who fall in the shadows protecting the cities never even have names, not really. Their mask gets passed on and they die, unknown, unacknowledged.

Funerals, Helena?”, she inquires with an eyebrow raises practically high enough to crawl into her hairline. “There’s something to be said of the fact that you’ve been gone from this city for so long, and the first thing you ask about… is funerals.”

One palm clamps down onto her hat as she charges through the rain, boots smacking against the pavement and puddles as she charges her way through the storm. Dammit, why does she never think to bring abou an umbrella when she’s prowling the streets? Fear of being associated with Cobblepot, maybe?

Her free hand curls around a street lamp as she comes to the edge of the street, using it to turn herself to the right without losing any of her momentum. It’s just a half a block further— by which point she’s already soaked again— before she’s finally standing under the porte-cochere to a very ratty looking building. She nudges the door open, revealing mailboxes, a staircase, and a hallway with peeling white paint.

"Upstairs. Third floor, 3-M. Oh, and to answer your question, no one that you might have been otherwise attached to has died in your absence. A few things might have happened to me, though… Similar to death in their own way.”

Harley Quinn



Follow my new Harley Quinn RP blog! If you feel so inclined, that is.

Harley Quinn


Follow my new Harley Quinn RP blog! If you feel so inclined, that is.


Hiya, all. A quick update from vacation land: again, I’ll be returning nighttime on the 20th, sometime around 11 PM-ish central.

Two, I passed 250 followers while I’ve been on said vacation, so. Yay! Should I do a giveaway thing? y/n? Thoughts?

And three, hello new followers! As a general rule, I don’t craft starters automatically for all who follow me, but am happy to respond to anything in my tag, requests to plot in my inbox, or requests for me to write up starters and such. So don’t be shy! Come speak to me!

See you all in a few days!


Hi all. Just a heads up that I won’t be posting much till the 20th, as today is my birthday and I am currently on vacation. (Woo!)

I believe I have you all in my drafts, but friendly reminders are always appreciated. Also, feel free to tag me in things or send me things (as always), as I am sure I will get to them when I come home.

And of course, message me if you wanna plot. ilu all ttyl <3
          -Renee Mun

Night Ride Across the Caucasus
Artist: Loreena McKennitt
Album: The Book of Secrets
Playcount: 349 plays

Loreena McKennitt // “Night Ride Across the Caucasus”

Find the answers, ask the questions 
Find the roots of an ancient tree 
Take me dancing, take me singing 
I’ll ride on till the moon meets the sea