Fandom Belle Reve Means "Sweet Dreams" // Suicide Squad RP // RP Thread

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In one of the infinite universes created by Barry Allen's tampering with time, General Zod has successfully killed the legendary Kal-El, known as Superman to the public. During this time, mankind is beginning to understand time travel only at its barest bones, but they know enough to realize that in 98% of universes, General Zod is successful in his attempted invasion to dominate Earth and subjugate humans to Kryptonian will. In a last-ditch attempt to save Earth 1966 from meeting the same fate as so many of its predecessors, the guardians of Belle Reve Federal Penitentiary have reached a crucial (but not altogether novel) decision: Just as the Suicide Squad was once deployed to thwart Enchantress and destroy the Jotunheim laboratory in alternate timelines, a different ragtag group of criminals, supervillains, and psychopaths will be deployed against the invading Kryptonian force. How the Belle Reve authorities justify such ridiculousness, you ask? Well, since in 98% of timelines military intervention fails anyway, it's time for a different solution; most importantly, one in which low-life criminal scum are at stake, rather than American war heroes. As was the case in previous timelines, the criminals enlisted in this likely death trap are being bribed with reduced sentences... and supervillains have a convenient knack for bloodlust, anyway. Should they egregiously disobey their superiors' orders at any time and go rogue, they will be destroyed via the nanobomb implanted in their necks.

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Setting: Modern-day Terrebonne Parish, Louisiana… although the prison has miraculously managed to keep details of its location hidden from all inmates, current and former thus far. Only the prison staff—who as you can imagine go through a highly rigorous selection process—know where to find Belle Reve on a map. As aforementioned, this RP is located in Earth 8344, a universe in which all of the Justice League have fallen at the hands of General Zod’s forces.

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Characters: In terms of characters, my only request is that everyone play an OC… in other words, no canon characters other than our villain of all villains, General Zod and cronies. Even Amanda Waller and Rick Flag do not exist in this universe, or if they do they are not associated with Belle Reve. The prison houses a completely different group of inmates and is operated by completely different staff. You may play as either inmates, guards, or both! All non-NPC guards will accompany the Suicide Squad on their mission as their handlers. In accordance with the DCU and DCEU, your characters may indeed have superpowers or just be normal humans with a penchant for troublemaking on a large scale. All that I ask is that your character not be too OP with their powers and have a few legitimate weaknesses, either physical, psychological, or some combination thereof.

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Rules and expectations: While it’s not required that you’ve seen or read the DCU/DCEU to join this RP, please be aware that it is the source material! It definitely can’t hurt to familiarize yourself with a few comics or movies, but we will also be willing to help out newcomers to understand the universe as necessary. On another note, please be aware that this is an advanced RP, so 3+ paragraphs per post! It’s A-okay if English isn’t your first language, but please do try your best with spelling and grammar unless it pertains to dialogue. Please be able and willing to post on the RP thread at least once every two weeks; don’t make me have to hunt you down for RP posts. Lastly, feel free to come up with NPCs and side plots on the fly! I love RPers who have an imagination and take initiative to keep the story rolling!

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Inmates: (6/∞)
- Rachel Livesey // "Imago" // Parasite Queen
- Violettin Hojo // "Cadenza" // Musical Ghoul
- Adam Shirazi // "Green Thumb" // Photosynthetic Scientist
- Sebastian Park // "Flux" // the Face-Stealer
- Shi Cavillo-Holmes // "Moon Prism" // Rainbow Rider
- Liling // "Verdigris" // Artificial Acrobat

Guards: (3/∞)
- Nouvelle Tiamo // "Shine" // Shamanic Supersoldier
- Levina Noe // "Maelstrom" // Lightning Goddess
- Cyrus Njeri // "Janhari" // Scourge of the Seas
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Lieutenant Cyrus Njeri // “Janhari” // Age 30 // Interdimensional Messenger // Former Privateer
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The ex-privateer formerly known as the feared Janhari and nowadays humbly referred to as Lieutenant Cyrus Njeri, was preparing himself, mentally and physically, for what was simultaneously one of his favorite and least favorite duties of his newish post. Favorite because the fact that he had been chosen for it cemented his importance and trustworthiness in Warden Hallows’s eyes, this appointment as her knight of choice. It made him look good. Coveted. Least favorite because of, well, pretty much everything else.
Interdimensional travel itself was—at best—disorienting, and it was common for those new to the experience to lose their lunches all over their shoes. At worst, if done improperly, it could result in severing one’s appendages across numerous galaxies like a grisly scavenger hunt, and while it was possible to reconnect the severed parts once reunited with the main body, one such scavenger hunt had never been completed successfully. In 2011 Dr. Brody Allison and his team had proven as much when they’d recovered the leg of a comrade who’d suffered simultaneous severance and reattached it to his body, but the team had been lost while trying to hunt down the nose, eye, ring and middle fingers on the right hand, and the entire lower left arm of their fallen comrade, never to be seen again. Allison and his team had been regarded as pioneers and tragic heroes of their field ever since. Needless to say, great care was taken in all future attempts at interdimensional travel to avoid simultaneous severance.
Technically, it wasn’t sanctioned by the United States government, meaning that there was a lot of grayness where its legality was concerned. Although there was a widespread attempt to squirrel away evidence of its existence from the public eye, a considerable fraction of government representatives made their opinions known to top military officials on the topic, arguing for caution and the unnaturalness of beings traveling back and forth across worlds and timelines in which they hadn’t been born. But Warden Hallows had selective hearing when it came to receiving orders of those above her. She seemed to rule Belle Reve with the mentality that it was her private island isolated from the rest of the world, so she was exempt from a lot of the rulings that came from up top. Lieutenant Cyrus Njeri thought her logic for such boldness went something like this: If Belle Reve Penitentiary were to come under thorough investigation, other breaches of law that were being committed on a daily basis would make the penalty for occasional interdimensional travel look like a day at the sauna.
Unbeknownst to her, she and Cyrus were rather alike in this way. Cyrus had already come to terms with the fact that, should she crash and burn for arranging missions to other universes, he was going down with her for acting as her emissary. His decision to implicate himself alongside her had been easy, really. It came down to whom he had more reason to be afraid of: Warden Hallows, whose dark hand of fate hovered over him every day of the four months he’d been stationed at Belle Reve, ready to come down with divine retribution at the smallest excuse, or the United States government in the nebulous future on a variety of conditions. All in all, such logic had culminated in his decision to act as her emissary (wherein he’d only been given the illusion of choice), but what she didn’t know was that he was more than just a messenger between worlds. Sometimes he was also a smuggler.
The target location today was Earth 8657, one of Hallows’s favorite partners for gathering information on multiversal threats and bargaining on the off chance that interdimensional trade was more widely accepted than Cyrus’s private back-alley deals one day in their lifetimes. Cyrus, however, despised this alternate timeline, and as disillusioned as he was with mankind as he knew it, Earth 8657 was living proof that the human race’s potential for depravity and injustice was endlessly deep and twisted. He felt a vague sort of gratitude not to have been born into Earth 8657, painted over by a top coat of wanting to burn that whole world down from the ground up.
Essentially, Earth 8657 was a warped timeline in which Napoleon conquered Western Europe in 1819, instead of suffering exile on the island of Saint Helena. Rather than be paraded in chains through the street, the British monarchy fled to their American colonies, which they’d retained after quashing the rebellion that had failed to make history as the American Revolution. Due to America’s sheer size and being in the center of all their smaller colonies, it made for a convenient home base after a short yet brutal series of executions of the leaders of the American rebellion and local government officials. The country was renamed Castillon, after the battle that had ended the Hundred Years’ War in England’s crushing defeat, as a warning against future hubris that would end in downfall. The royal family had ruled ever since, and Castillon, the E.U., and the Chinese Federation were the three dominant superpowers in the world, all of them set on ruthless campaigns of imperialism.
While interdimensional travel may have been accomplished by additional means unknown to the inhabitants of Earth 1966—the one Cyrus knew as home—the way that Cyrus had been using it under Hallows’s direction involved taking an object from the target world and crushing it so that its “essence” was expelled. Then, one stepped through a mirror within the next few seconds, which would reopen to the exact location throughout the multiverse that the item had been collected. This method produced several inconveniences, the main one being that it was exceedingly difficult to travel to new, unexplored worlds. Unless, of course, one of that world’s interdimensional travelers was intercepted on this planet and a relic from their world was won in a friendly tavern game of dice. Or, more likely, a bag was thrown over their head and they were tossed into a dark car with tinted windows, never to be seen again, every last item they’d been carrying preserved in a vault not unlike those within Fort Knox until the time for usage arose.
Today, the goal of the mission Hallows was sending him on was to acquire as much information about a semi-precious gemstone native to the unique soil of Castillon, viridium, and what might Emperor Maximilian be willing to trade it for. The bluish-green stone was all the rage there, regarded as a status symbol fashioned into jewelry, ornaments, ceremonial weapons, and incorporated liberally into the design of new mansions.
It was an old room in an old building that Cyrus stood in. Plunged several stories below the ground, it was circular and made entirely of stone, reminding him of the bottom of a well. Similar to the bottom of a well, the only audible sounds were an endless dripping of water, making the whole room smell of stale moisture and a light coat of mildew, and the scuffing of his own boots. Both these sounds produced a slight echo. Cyrus reached inside one armhole of his coat and turned it inside-out several times until settling on a side that he deemed respectable: a simple black coat lined with silver thread and two columns of silver buttons. It was his preferred choice for Castillon, to avoid offending the local royals or drawing attention. Fitting snugly on his hands was a pair of black leather gloves. If one stared closely, one would be able to deduce that the fingers on his right hand were slightly longer than those on his left, with massive knuckles and joints.
The mirror he stood before was no gilt-framed masterpiece. Rather, it was the cheap, skinny kind that you buy at Walmart for twenty bucks with a plastic blue frame and hang on the back of a college dorm door and not care about too much when it got stained with various kinds of residue. Well, in this case, he would care, since a cracked or overtly stained mirror made interdimensional travel impossible, and a somewhat sloppily maintained one made it risky. And Cyrus Njeri did not want to go the way of Brody Allison’s comrade, his body dissected and scattered across myriad worlds.
Straightening his coat and spending the better part of a minute ensuring that he looked respectable, his dreads tied back in a loose ponytail, Cyrus opened one gloved hand to reveal a daisy. The tiny flower was rumpled slightly from having been kept in a pocket, yet miraculously unwilted in the two weeks since Cyrus’s last visit to Earth 8657, due to preternatural means he did not understand. Then, very deliberately, he crushed it in his palm. Visibly, the mirror did not change, reflecting Cyrus’s raven-black coat and the colorless stone behind him. But when he pressed against it with a hand, and then with a foot, concentric ripples spread out in slow waves, as if it were a pond made of semi-liquid metal.
But this time there were no sharp metal buildings poking into the sky like the prongs of a crown, topped by the glorious Citadel where the royal family lived. There were no cars gliding along the roundabout in which the fountain statue of a long-dead empress brandishing two crossed swords was nestled. There was no trolley merrily clipping along the cobblestones, and there was none of that strange, slightly burnt caramel popcorn smell that he had come to associate with Castillon.
Instead, there was devastation as far as he could see.