7223/The Rogues' Meeting.

The Rogues' Meeting.
Date of Scene:	13 April 2019
Location:	Central City
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Turtle, Killer Frost

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Turtle has posed:
Beneath the streets of Central City, beneath the subways and past the sewers, the Turtle calls a refurbished section of catacombs his home. With modern conveniences such as electricity, backup generators, refrigeration, escape hatches, hidden entries and exits, computer and internet access, security monitoring, alarms, and of course, heat and water, the Turtle is quite happy here.

The Turtle sits in a comfortable bucket chair, padded and soft to the touch, at a large bank of computers. He taps on a keyboard, occasionally manipulating a mouse, manipulating various files of data on his latest confrontation with 'Malcolm', also known as 'Kid'. He's writing notes and compiling reports, presently manipulating multiple angles of video to analyze his findings on Kid's fighting abilities, prowess, and tactics.

Killer Frost has posed:
Killer Frost decided to visit her friend the Turtle. She's not really worried about calling ahead. She knows he's watching around his lair. She brings a big sack of Big Belly Burger as a peace offering, as she walks down into the sewers, freezing the... stuff... she's walking on so it doesn't dirty her feet. She then walks into his lair. She knows that if her presence was unwelcome, that he'd react as she waves to the cameras as she walks by. She then enters the lair. "Hey Turtle!" she cooos, waving happily. "I forgot to call ahead - didn't think you'd mind."

Turtle has posed:
"Hello, Doctor Snow," Turtle says with a slanderous smile as he greets Killer Frost with a turn of his chair. "It's very kind of you to visit an old man."

He emits a deep sigh as he pushes on his legs to get out of his chair, standing with the bow that has slowly become a forced position. Wearing his carapace suit, he shuffles across the linoleum floor and over to Killer Frost, accepting the bag of fast food.

"So, what can I do for you, Doctor?" he asks congenially, moving over to a table in his kitchen area and setting the bag down, opening it and withdrawing the sleeve of French fries.

Killer Frost has posed:
Killer Frost smiles. "I just thought I'd check in on you," she coooos, her voice obtaining the icy echo that is characteristic of Killer Frost. "It's been a while since I've seen you. Have you been well?" She just glances at you - she only got a vanilla milkshake which she kept and is drinking from happily. "And - you know I don't like being called Doctor Snow. My sister is such a pill. The name is Killer Frost."

Turtle has posed:
"Apologies for being so dreadfully formal, Killer Frost," Turtle says, looking diminuitive as he eats deep fried potato by the handful, the slovenly compulsion of a former gentleman thief of some girth apparent. He sets the fries down on the table between them, as an open invitation. "I have never liked the name Turtle, but it has come to be a blessing."

He turns his back on Frost and moves to his large, metal refrigerator, withdrawing a Kvass malt soda from Russia, in a plastic bottle, full of oat brown, fizzy liquid.

Turning about to face her again, with slow patience, he twists it open and drinks.

"One's own moniker teaches many lessons, the more that choose it, the greater the lesson."

Killer Frost has posed:
Killer Frost nods. "Well - you never told me anything else to call you," she muses softly as she is slurping a bit more on her milkshake, taking a bite of fry. "I bet you're disappointed in me. That I made a deal with my sister not to bother the Flash. She's such a fangirl of his... and I can't help but admire him. Even though I'd be his worst nightmare." She hmmmms softly. "Do you have any plans?"

Turtle has posed:
Turtle frowns gravidly, looking down at the floor. There's a space before him, that holds him back, as if something is forcing him into lethargy, projecting from the man personally.

"My issue with the Flash, Killer Frost, is something you may not understand. Now, it is more of a memory, but a memory that is important." The Turtle moves back to the table and withdraws the burger from it's bag in his free right hand, biting into it with a small, unusually peckish bite, and chewing.

"Do you know what I do for a living, Frost? People think I'm a hijacker, a bank robber, a mastermind. True, I am these things, but what I do for a living is more subtle than a simple profession. A dockworker, is a profession, he will say that's how he makes a living, but maybe his true living is baseball games, his wife, his kid, his vices, even his politics. It's deeply private."

The Turtle studies Killer Frost quietly, the lethargy gone. "Pride, Killer Frost, is how one make's a living. Plans, are from pride. My pride is in being a bandit. It's more than a profession, that's why I can't retire."

He smiles, like a priest. "All I do, Killer Frost, and all I plan to do, is continue to be relevant, as a man."

Killer Frost has posed:
Killer Frost nods slowly. "Interesting. This might be the most passionate I've ever seen or heard you. I'm impressed. So - can I help with your next scheme? I haven't been really naughty since I helped roll over that casino in Atlantic City with the Joker and Poison Ivy. That was quite fun." She grins widely. "I'll note that I never asked you about retiring. Just curious as to what you're up to. If you could use someone icy like me... Caitlin tolerates my activities and I tolerate her goody-two-shoes nature."

Turtle has posed:
The Turtle chuckles, in a worn way, shaking his head back and forth, looking into his bitten burger.

"Even the Turtle can be a friendly animal, Killer Frost. You just have to know where to point him."

The Turtle sets down his soda on the kitchen table, and walks across his lair to his computer system, gesturing for Killer Frost to follow.

"This right here, is the fundament of my prized possession. This is my primary data cache of dozens of vigilantes, from all over the world, all of them having a single trait in common, hence why I've categorized all of them together as potential rivals." He picks up a remote, the data on Kid disappearing with the click of the button, and manipulates it with his free left hand, before faces start scrolling past, on a menu tree.

"Each one, has a particular ability, be it a skill or a tool or a metahuman ability, that they use exclusively and openly as the entire core source of their crimefighting. I have extensive data on all of them."

The Turtle allows the list to revolve downwards through the main screen's GUI.

"I always plan to face at least one of these individuals, and the key part of the plan is profiting off of their defeat. Law enforcement stays away if they get involved, and they have the same, fundamental predictability, of relying on their core advertised feat."

Killer Frost has posed:
Killer Frost nods. "Namely - the Flash and his speed." She nods as she stares. "You have put way too much thought into it. Everything is a meticulous plan. A cunning strategem. But I guess it works for you. The turtle does beat the hare in the faerie tale after all. Mostly because the turtle stays on task." She smiles. "You have all this information. What do you plan on doing with it?" She just starts to wander around, just looking all around, deciding not to touch anything - just looking. "Quite a nice place. If it was above ground, it'd almost be a mansion."

Turtle has posed:
Turtle scoffs, "A mansion? Then I'd be paying through the nose in taxes!"

He laughs, shaking his head back and forth. "Women, Killer Frost, haven't been my concern in ten years at least. A mansion impresses your wife, there's no other point to it."

He finishes the burger with a final bite, picking up a napkin out of the bag as he lets her roam.

"Besides, the woman you need to impress with a mansion, is for a truly despicable man. I'm Captain Hook here, not the President of the United States."

Killer Frost can see a terrarium with a hamster, an open door to an armory slash panic room, tool supplies along a wall, a small rack of assault firearms, a popcorn machine from a circus, a futuristic stove, a long rack of cooking supplies with preparation tables below it, and in the corner, a couple spare suits of his body armor. A small hallway with a smiley face on the door leads to a bedroom and bathroom for his own personal use, a thermostat on the wall next to it. There are also various hatches and television monitors, some showing views of sewer passages, subways, and the street above, and others meant for video games or television or research tapes.

"You'd have to understand that my purpose with all of it, is the purpose of the material itself, Killer Frost. A man of pride cannot admit defeat, or he admits that his life was for nothing. I know my life is a wasted one, by virtue of being who I am and able to function, but admitting that means wasting my life anyways. Two options, one with a defeated victory, the other with the pure defeat."

Killer Frost has posed:
Killer Frost nods. "Quite a conundrum. You've put much thought into this. More than I ever have." Her voice is as soft as her icy echo can be. "There is no need to admit anything. If you have another heist planned, I'm game to join you. My sister will never admit it, but it does excite her when I do daring reckless things." She then moves to sit down, just trying to figure out this Turtle. He's nothing like she remembered in prior meetings - a heart to heart makes things quite different. "You might even like my sister, I'd bet - though her first words would be to suggest a gastric bypass." She tilts her head a bit, one eye no longer glowing for a few seconds. "Oh. I was close. She said liposuction."

Turtle has posed:
An evil eye is cast in Killer Frost's direction, from the Turtle's right side.

"It sounds like your sister wants a man the wrong way, doesn't she." The Turtle isn't savvy enough to name a gesture in a sociopathic manner on the head, but he's a big guy, he's heard them his entire life. "It's okay, I'm used to it."

The Turtle moves to sit across from Killer Frost. "Let's say I take you in on a heist. The payout, it doesn't matter to me. I don't work to be rich, I work from the heart, but I don't mind you making money. Who's our target? Which cape?" He moves into the steepled mudra, his fingers steepled and touching at the fingertips.

Killer Frost has posed:
Killer Frost nods. "I just mean that Caitlin is a doctor, and she would want to try to help you, even if you aren't interested." She shrugs her shoulders, making a 'cuckoo' gesture with her finger. "I would request not the Flash. It's... it'd be awkward to confront him after... everything." She smiles faintly. "I could suggest Gotham City. Yes, there's the Batman, but that city is basically Crime Central of the country." She hmmmmms softly. "And Batman, like you, is just a man. Not a meta. And, of course, Metropolis would be foolhardy with Underwear-Boy flying around."

Turtle has posed:
"Batman and Superman, two of the most notorious skullheads on the planet."

"Let's say we pick Batman. Batman, from all my research, appears to function as a high level espionage savant. People say he's a detective, a serial killer, a ninja, a cop, a shellshocker..." Turtle shakes his head slowly. "No, every ability he has, functions out of a common theme of espionage. Cross-trained, clearly, custom devices, therefore no backing organization."

He removes his fingers from each other and raises a forefinger, middle extended in a soft curl below it. "Now, the thing every cop thinks, when they study someone famous, is how does this guy get busted, if he gets busted?"

"Einstein. You aren't Einstein, if you get arrested before you escape Germany. Petty pot bust of some genius whizkid, knows his rights got violated, that kid's no Einstein. My old man was a cop, that's how I know. See?"

The Turtle spreads his hands. "The way you take down Batman, is you study him, as if you were a cop. What, would make Batman, no Batman?"

Killer Frost has posed:
Killer Frost nods slowly. "Well... if you are interested in my kind of chaotic help, let me know. I'm not that good with plans - I am more of a... well... freestylist." She smiles. "Actually, our styles probably don't mesh well. You plan to a T, and I don't plan at all." She smiles. "If you want my help, call me." She leaves a card with you. "With that - I hoped you enjoy dinner." She bows as she moves to depart, her feet glowing a bit as she preapres to freeze anything unpleasant that she is about to step on.