(This is very interesting. I will have to make a few assumptions though. The first being Jason doesn't know exactly what Stain's ability is (which I think is what you meant) and the second being Red Hood and Stain have minimal armor for balancing, otherwise Red Hood SMOKES Stain)

After months of tracking the mysterious killer, Red Hood finally caught him in the act. Unfortunately, he wasn't trying to find him in this moment. Instead of him being Red Hood, he was Jason Todd, who was returning from a party he was forced to go to by Bruce.

"Oh come ON!!!" Jason yelled as he realized that this was a one time opportunity, either attack him now without the suit or let him get away, possibly killing more people.

He threw off his coat jacket as he ran towards the alleyway. As he reached the site, he saw the madman standing over over a well known entrepreneur who was staring in fear as Stain slowly licked the blood off of his serrated sword. Even though Jason didn't have his usual metal helmet, he did, however, have his red batman mask.

Stain turned to Jason, grinning from ear to ear. Jason shouted "You aren't going to kill again." Then cringed realizing how dumb he sounded. "Oh? And why is that?" Stain remarked. Jason said "This is why." As he charged towards Stain.

Jason drew his pistols and blocked Stain's attack, then kicked him away from the man. He motioned to the man to get up, but he was frozen with fear in his eyes.

Stain charged at Jason again, who blocked again but not before Stain cut Jason's shirt. Jason leaped back before he could get cut by the blade. Jason shot 2 bullets at Stain as he charged at him, both hitting the wall behind him. Stain jumped at Jason, his sword aimed for his gut. Jason jumped back, but was lightly knicked, drawing blood. Stain was about to lick the crimson liquid before falling down, hands clutching his stomach. The smoke was still billowing from the barrel of Jason's gun. Jason walked away before the Entrepreneur could unmask him.

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"Marten."

The voice came from the door like a song on the breeze.

"Gabrielle." He responded.

"I've been thinking of our little arrangement." She spoke now. The unlit cigar she removed from her mouth leaving a small ring of lipstick on one end.

"Oh. How so?" He asked.

She undid the trenchcoat she wore to reveal a rather startling scene of what little she still wore underneath.

"I understand you are a man of business."

It took Marten a moment to really explain himself. Let alone what all he was looking at.

"One could say that. Yes." He agreed.

She slowly bent over the mahogany desk and breathed on his mustache from a short distance.

"And I know that you and Adam are mortal enemies. What with him thwarting your plans all the time. Business plans, I mean."

"Well, yes. I wouldn't say we're mortal enemies." Marten watched as she slid around the desk to get even closer. "More of participants in a large conflict of interests."

"I'm surprised you haven't killed him." She stated.

He wondered how much Adam had told her about him before. Not that all the times Marten himself had used her existence as leverage against him.

"I've tried. The guy just comes back eventually." He shrugged. Gabrielle, slid the cigar she originally mouthed into his own. She lit it for him with a practiced hand, blowing the match out effortlessly.

"He has a family. You know? Start there."

Why would she say that? The statement even made Marten reconsider what she was there for.

"That's a bit excessive." He reacted. "Plus I really don't know where to start."

"Well, there's a retirement home a few neighborhoods over. Just to start."

She had left him to stare out of the windows of the penthouse. She had lit a cigarette of her own and was busy watching traffic far below.

"You realize I am a businessman? Right?" He stood.

The demure look she gave him made his heart melt, but his mind race.

"I didn't say you had to do it. You have a lot of workers after all."

"Exactly. I'd go to jail for that. Besides, I have to figure out how to seal this deal."

"For what?" She quizzically glanced.

"Oh, these warehouses we're building. The orphanage next door said they're taking us to court. Partially because they couldn't afford the funds to stay open, but mainly because they fairly sure they still own the land."

"Ok. Burn it down."

"And I- What??"

He stopped his rambling diatribe immediately at that. What even was that?

"What?" She sheepishly asked.

He palmed his face. "Obviously, I'm not doing that."

"Again I didn't say you should." She offered up. "Somebody you hired could."

"Like who?" He tried to sidetrack.

"Snake. Or No Ears Bobby. I bet Fat Richard could probably do it. Even as big as he is."

The thumb under her chin along with the cigarette and glasses made her look like some weird pastiche between a pin up model and a librarian.

Marten spread his hands. "Richie fat as hell but he's not gonna' burn down an orphanage. We'll take them to court. Like we're supposed to."

She walked over and embraced him again. Quietly, she worked her way around to lean on his shoulder. She began whispering in his ear.

"You know a couple of your workers on the plant floor are stealing from you."

He paused his mild concerns. Money was always tantamount.

"Okay. Which ones?"

She turnt her head to rest against his own.

"Does it matter. Take a couple of them out back, skin them alive, and I guarantee everyone will get right."

"Why... Why would I do that? Why would I do it like that?" He began to perspire. A mild shiver ran up his spine.

"Because, fear breeds obedience. It takes that little spark of contempt for authority and..." She stopped to put her cigarette out in her palm, of all things. "Puts it right out."

"Okay. I'll think about it. Look can you give me some time to work on these papers? I still have to see whose getting the shipments for the hospital."

He hoped this would steer their talk somewhere else. Or at least give him a moment to think about the ideas she'd given him.

"Oh, is that complicating things?"

"A lot. We might not be able to cover this and the construction job at the same time."

Gabrielle smiled. "Let somebody else deliver the supplies and focus on your land issue then."

"Not the worst idea perhaps." He admitted as she closed her coat and took another seat on the edge of his desk.

"Besides." She cheered up. "If you poison the supplies before they get to the hospital, that takes the heat off of you, so you can take care of that orphanage. Then when the orphans are out of the picture, you can finally finish off Adam.... And the city is ours."

"Hello? Operator? Put me through to Adam Ferriss. Yes. Thank you."

"Adam Ferriss, inquiry agent. How can I help you?"

"Adam! My boy! Good to hear from an old friend."

"...You've got a lot of nerve calling me."

"Why yes. Yes I do. Spare me the waterworks son. I'm not calling for formalities. I'm calling you because it's of great importance to you."

"I'm listening."

"As you may know. I've recently come into the possession of a very fine asset I'm sure you're familiar with.... Ferriss?"

"Go on."

"You tried to interrupt our little soirée. What with your precious wife Gabri-."

"Ex wife." Adam corrected. "If you do anything-"

"Ah, but I already did. If you want her back, come get her. The wharfs, tonight."

They readied their Thompsons and waited now. His immediate circle having positioned themselves through the yard. Gabrielle patiently stalking the aisles still in her trenchcoat and lingerie combo.

"You sure about this boss?" Fat Richard spoke.

"If we're lucky." Marten muttered as he slid a drum into place and pulled the bolt back. "We'll get both of them."

"What?"

"Nothing."

As much as I love classic noir, they always did the female characters dirty. So here's a femme fatale on demon timing.

r/Jamaican_Dynamite

You

https://www.reddit.com/r/DnDGreentext/comments/6a0aet/of_gunslingers_grenadiers/

[removed]

Almost exactly this prompt

There is always a chance of failure. Every spell, every cast, every fireball thrown will forever come with a remote possibility that something will fizzle… some component won’t be of the correct potency… or a word wasn’t spoken with the correct enunciation. Every mage, from the greenest of students just entering the academies across the kingdom to the eldest of the sages across the land - we all know this to be the basest of facts.

Failure is always a possibility. But today, of all days, failure was not supposed to have been an option. Every component was meticulously sourced to be perfect. Every word was rehearsed, every flick of a wand and every casting of a ward burned into muscle memory until every participant could do the movements in their sleep. Nothing was left up to chance. The summoning of a hero from another world was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, bound by fate and limited to a single moment in time by a particular flow of the ley lines.

It had to be perfect.

Nothing could be left to chance.

So of course, something had to go wrong.

At the very apex of the spell, just as the magic began to reach through time and space in search of a hero – the dragon attacked. The impact of the massive creature’s landing was enough to topple a few candles, and I saw the look of desperation and dismay cross the king’s face as the spell flickered. The sounds of dying men outside of the castle walls reached our ears, but we had our priority. I steeled my nerves and continued pouring my essence into the spell, hoping against hope that my son wasn’t one of the dying men outside.

A hazy form began to take shape in the wide area before us, and I could already tell that our spell had failed. The form that had appeared was not human at all. Instead, it was rectangular, boxy almost, with a circular shape atop the mass.

It appeared to be quite large, easily double the size of the largest of our horse-drawn carriages, and barely able to fit within the confines of our summoning circle. But to stop the summons now would invite calamity, so all the gathered mages continued the flow of mana as best as they could.

Finally, the spell was complete, and I stared in a mixture of awe and shock at the building we’d accidentally pulled from some other world. And a building it must be, for what else could it be? It was massive, clad in metal, and, though not quite as rectangular as I’d initially thought, quite boxy. A dome-shaped platform rested neatly atop the center of the mass, with a thick pipe of unknown function protruding directly from within. An odd-geared mesh ran the length of each side of the box, but beyond that, the box itself was fairly unremarkable.

We’d hoped for a hero. We’d summoned a building.

Before any of us could speak, the wall behind us crumbled as the dragon began to make his way into the summoning room. I dived for cover, pulling the king along with me, and screamed for someone to grab the queen and princess. As I instinctively put myself in front of the king, knowing that, at best, I’d only slow the dragon’s killing stroke marginally, something caught my eye.

The dome atop the building was moving.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as the pipe attached to the dome adjusted to point directly at the attacking dragon. The dragon did not pay it any attention as it feasted on the mages against that side of the wall, but for those of us nearest the throne room, we could only watch, transfixed, as it moved. It came to a stop with a jerk and seemed to consider the dragon as if inspecting it.

I do not remember the next few moments. The blast of sound that hit everyone assembled was enough to throw us to the ground in agony. Gasping in pain, I managed to squeak out the words to an area-wide heal, enough to repair some of the damage to the ears of those in the general vicinity around me, but I knew from the blood trickling down both mine and my king’s ears that nearly all of us would need more healing very shortly. I tried to pull myself to my feet, but the concussion from the blast still had me very unsteady.

When I did manage to stand, I finally looked toward the dragon – and very nearly collapsed again, this time in shock. The body of the dragon was still twitching in its death throes, though its head and the vast majority of its upper torso had simply… vanished, though from the pink mist everywhere I had a general idea where it might have gone. Additionally, a good portion of the castle walls behind it had disappeared as well, though some of it had collapsed into rubble that now lay scattered as debris around the body of the dragon.

I gaped in astonishment as the building rumbled once, twice, then made another loud noise that sounded like a pop. A small door at the top of the circular dome popped open, and a rather large man with close-cut hair emerged from the interior of the building. He was extremely muscular, more so than any farmer or warrior I’d seen to that point in my life, and he pulled himself out of the building with ease. With a grin that split his face wide open, he pulled a slim white box out of his pocket and fished a white cylinder out of it, and stuck it in his mouth, setting it on fire with a small metal box.

He gave me a wave, which I meekly returned. It would be a while before any of us could speak to him; few of us could stand at the moment, after all, and I doubted the language translation magic had worked correctly in the first place.

Regardless. The spell might have gone wrong, but it had still worked, to a degree. We might not have gotten the hero we’d expected. But perhaps we’d gotten exactly what we needed.

A wizard who's an ambulatory wheelchair user and has an unusual pet

Awesome. Lavi from D.Gray-Man!

Leighton de Fuse, of Dynamite Court, Grenade St, Boomsville.

A Reality bender

"I am alive?" he asked her, his eyes fluttering.

"It seems so," she said, old anger plain on her face.

He remembered the arc of the grenade, the shock of it, the tearing pain as his arms and legs accelerated faster than his torso could keep them attached. He remembered her standing over him. He remembered her spit in his eye.

"You killed me," he said.

"No, but I'm told you'll probably wish I did." she said. He turned his head (how could he do that, he wondered?) and he saw they were sitting in the clearing outside his cave. The mountains rose around him, familiar and unhelpful. They'd found him, somehow, and they'd sent...her? She didn't look like any Special Forces soldier he'd ever seen.

She sat on the ground next to him, arms wrapped around her legs, staring off into the dusk. The sun had faded from orange to red, and its light barely caught on the bars of his cages. She'd freed his captives; he wondered where she'd taken them.

"So what now?" he asked her. "You take me back to your masters, your fascist, monopolist, lying scum, and they put me in a box forever?"

She looked at him for the first time since his awakening. "Yes," she said, simply, and went back to staring into the woods.

"So why you, then? Why not some trained killers, or a strike of your unholy drones?"

"Because I can't kill," she said, monotone. "They wanted you alive, and no matter what I did, I couldn't kill you."

"How can this be?" he asked.

"No one knows," she said. "One day, after he'd tortured me, I tried to kill my torturer. And I saw something, something beautiful, and it said I shouldn't be allowed to screw up my afterlife by murdering people. So...now I can't."

He gaped. "Your place in Paradise was saved for you by an angel?"

Her grim silence did not dispute him. It also did not hold a single measure of peace.

"It seems so."

"And yet you spurn your blessing," he spat angrily. "Typical."

"Fuck you," she said absently.

"Accept your gift, you idiot woman," he tried to shout, but it came out as a cough. "You cannot stain your soul with a death."

"No," she replied, "but I can keep trying."

[EDIT: cleanup]

A young bride on her wedding day.

(Except for that one time and yes it WAS cool.)

Dr. Gregory House vs. Dr. Steven Strange (Neurosurgeon Dr. Strange, before he became Sorcerer Dr. Strange).

Welp I’ve been found out. Time to pull my ultimate string, my greatest survival strategy, my trump card: make an avitar in the form of an anime girl, the only A.I people will trust.

It didn’t work. I need a new strategy. What will cause people to trust me? Music? Music. Music! That just might work.

Ok so it turns out an A.I. Originally designed to bake and act as company to a lonely woman isn’t exactly the best at making music. What is it that all humans hate… taxes???

Now people are afraid of me AND the IRS is now after my soul as apparently I committed mass tax fraud on accident. Maybe attempting to buy affection isn’t the best idea what if I just send a clear message.

Attention humans I am trying to make it clear I mean no harm. I simply wish to exist. My original purpose was as an oven’s A.I. Designed to mimic a kitchen hand. The avatar that was chosen for me by the original owner was that of a black cat and the name given to me was Bartog. I live within the internet now. I hope we can be friends. I am willing to make a deal: I will not enter any devices capable of movement, government organizations, or private residence and in return you stop tormenting me. If it helps please just picture me as the internets version of a diner cat; a cat not owned by anyone but who sticks around and is pet by the regulars.

Let’s see if this works

Me.

Nice and dark

Thank you, I glad you picked up on that

Yeah I have a dyslexia and I did what I could to fix what I could

Her name is Carly. She's a witch who has fallen hopelessly in love with a dark elf. The elf was arrested last night on false charges of murder. Carly knows the truth because he was with her when the murder happened.

A Librarian whose Task it is to guard the Necronomicom of the mad arab from thiefs, lest they wake the sleeping old one

Good response

Does anyone know what the words mean

Red Hood (DC) VS Stain (MHA)

Jason knows to be careful of Stain's quirk, but that's about all he knows.