whatam_i: (close_up_serious)
Edward Nygma ([personal profile] whatam_i) wrote2025-03-24 05:43 pm

RP With Oswald Cobblepot | Strange Monster Verse

No one knew why Hugo Strange had such a fascination with creating monsters, no one really knew much of the man in general. He was something of a mystery, the only man who truly knew him was dead and Hugo was certainly not one to share details of his life or past.

But one thing people did know was that he was ruthless in his pursuits, which is why it was probably not going to shock anyone to know that while Gotham slowly got back on her feet he seized the opportunity to start back up his own ventures. Backed by someone who had seen how much potential the manipulation of Eduardo Dorrance had, Hugo Strange suddenly found himself with the three best things for his next phase of work.

Opportunity.
Money.
Easy Test Subjects.

Because Gotham was still slowly being put back together now was the best time for Hugo to gather as many subjects as possible, after all it was going to take a long time to sort through who had made it and who had not during the black out and war.

"No no no." Hugo says evenly to the men who are hauling in the huge crates, each one holding a new subject. "These ones I want put in the Dark wing."

"You sure?"

A faint smile tugs at the corners of Hugo's mouth and he nods, "Oh yes.....I asked for these ones....specifically."
hobblepot: (unpleasant surprise)

mutants, mutants everywhere!

[personal profile] hobblepot 2025-06-03 04:44 am (UTC)(link)
[Oswald doesn’t witness the jagged, alien form that thrashes its way into being, scattering flaps of human skin all around the walls of its cell. But he hears every wet, splintery snap. And the screaming - the kind of scream that sends a teeth-on-tin foil buzz through him.

He’s on his ass in an instant, crab-walking backward until his back thumps the wall. An icy sweat blooms between his shoulderblades. The man-thing next door goes into a sudden frenzy, pounding the wall between them like its own is on fire. It has no hands left - nothing but scything, mantis-like arms battering themselves bloody into the concrete.

If only the maddening, off-key singing had been the only thing to worry about tonight.
]

Help!

[Oswald shouts, his voice cracking with hysteria. The wall shudders. Then begins to split down the middle.]

Guards!!
Edited 2025-06-03 04:50 (UTC)