Nuklearlad
Black Mail Artist
I'm deep, in a "what the heck is he thinking?" kind of way
Posts: 141
|
Post by Nuklearlad on Mar 2, 2007 13:02:22 GMT -5
The city of Intrepid is one really horrible place to live. Ok yes, it has a nice mall, a beach, a clean industrious shipping dock (complete with dozens of abandoned warehouses) a bustling downtown commerce, a world class sporting arena and is nestled cozily in an undisclosed location on the eastern seaboard. Unfortunately the city is also hated by Dr. Solanum, an evil genius who for unknown reasons is constantly trying to destroy Intrepid. Unfortunately Solanum has powerful mind control powers as well as technical expertise. Anyone of tainted heart, that is to say, weak character and evil tendencies can be forced to bend to his will.
Using his amassed fortune (through both legal and illegal sources), his appalling creations of mad science and his vertible army of weaker beings under his control, little stands between him and his terrible goal, wiping out Intrepid forever.
Only a handful of specially gifted individuals can stop him.
***
Ok now that the stage is set let me just say that Solanum himself will not have a lot of posts, since he often operates behind the scenes. The character has been designed that he can throw all sorts of sub-villains at you in true comic book fashion. I'll be designing all sorts of villain characters ranging from simple thugs, to super-powered villains that will make you all hate me.
Also, stay on the straight and narrow! Your superheroes, and if you get all evil, or whiny and punisher on me (AKA, Anti-Hero) you run the risk of falling under Solanum's control. If that happens I won't announce it. I'll simply send you private messages with instructions and from there on, you work for me.
Final rule, this is a comic book world. Although you should try your best, don't be too afraid of death. Comic books have a habit of bringing popular characters back and this will be no different. Now let's give you a scene to introduce yourselves with.
***
Dark alley 2:10 AM
Janet and Tom were a young married couple who were out on the town. Both of them worked constantly to pay for their small downtown studio apartment. They were sharing what little time they had together and had gone to a movie. As they cut down the alley to get home they were jumped by 5 men.
2 had guns and one other, the clear leader, had an 8 inch hunting knife drawn
A simple mugging like this goes unnoticed everyday. But today Intrepid was finally going to have it's call for heroes answered...
|
|
|
Post by pleadingvirtue on Mar 13, 2007 10:18:46 GMT -5
Karma was kind of wandering the city. She wished once again that she had some kind of "spidey sense". Meandering around town, hoping to run into crimes, seemed very inefficient. Not that inefficiency was generally a particular concern of Karma, but it was boring too.
|
|
Nuklearlad
Black Mail Artist
I'm deep, in a "what the heck is he thinking?" kind of way
Posts: 141
|
Post by Nuklearlad on Mar 13, 2007 10:39:00 GMT -5
Tom grabbed Janet and put himself between her and the muggers. Janet screamed for help. The thugs laughed very loudly and the two armed with guns pointed at the ground near Tom's feet and shot a few times. Leaping back in fear, Tom and Janet both fall on their backs. The muggers close in...
|
|
|
Post by pleadingvirtue on Mar 14, 2007 11:44:02 GMT -5
Karma carelessly turned a corner into an alley. She was surprised to discover an actual crime taking place! Two people were lying on the ground looking terrified, and they were surrounded by five men, some with guns. Karma smiled. There was some clear evil going on here. And clear evil was always a good thing when your powers are relative to the amount of evil going on. She smoothed her skirt, and straightened her top for maximum cleavage potential. She convinced herself that the cleavage was a key distraction factor in the battle against evil. She shook out her hair and put her hands on her hips in an impatient manner.
"Hey, bad guys!" She called out to them. She saw them turn and kind of smile to themselves. A hot twenty-something in a short skirt? They were confidant they could take her, she was sure. She was also sure that they couldn't take her. But just the same, she kind of wished that one of the other heroes would show up. She wasn't bulletproof, after all. But maybe she would be today. She doubted it though. It felt more like a super strength kind of crime. Maybe speed too. That would really help. But she was confidant that she wouldn't have to dodge any bullets. She was hoping they'd go for rape too. That would really increase her power, as well as bring them closer for fighting purposes. And she knew she was cute. She beckoned to them with her index finger and a smile. But she still kind of hoped for back up. Fighting was more fun with an audience, and that couple was too busy cringing and hiding their eyes to really appreciate what she could do.
|
|
Nuklearlad
Black Mail Artist
I'm deep, in a "what the heck is he thinking?" kind of way
Posts: 141
|
Post by Nuklearlad on Mar 14, 2007 22:47:28 GMT -5
The 5 young men looked confused.
One on the left looked to one of his companions...
"Whoa! Look at THAT!"
"That is the finest whore I've ever seen! Bet she costs a fortune"
"Man, is that whore your girl?"
"No man... ...what's she doing?"
"I dunno man, but I hope she keeps doing it."
The leader of the gang let his knife hang limply. He looked around at his confused gang of morrons. He pursed his lips, looked at Karma and sighed heavily.
"Look guys, forgive me if I'm wrong but... ARE WE NOT IN THE MIDDLE OF SOMETHING HERE!" He gestured his knife toward Tom and Janet "Let's get what we came for and scram you freaking idiots! We owe Tarrano remember? Once our debt is paid, I'll buy you each a pair of girls. It's not like the "catholic school girl for hire" is hard to find in this city!"
Seeing his men continue to oggle shamelessly (and really, they were without shame, what was he expecting?) he dug his heels in decided to fix things. He took the knife by it's end and hurled it forcibly at Karma's head. One less whore, one less distraction and 4 more men to help with the crime at hand.
|
|
|
Post by pleadingvirtue on Mar 15, 2007 8:50:16 GMT -5
Karma sighed expressively. They weren't going to come to her. Life just wasn't fair sometimes. She instinctively dodged the knife as it was thrown at her. She took a step closer to the band of thieves. Or murderers. Whatever they were.
"What exactly did you come for, boys? You know you're not the biggest kids on the playground anymore, right?" She was a little resentful now. She wasn't a whore, and she didn't like being called one. Besides, wasn't this a new age of enlightenment and equality? Although she shouldn't have expected much from a bunch of criminals. As she waited for an answer to her question, she decided to exact a little well-deserved justice. She looked intently at the first man to call her a whore. Suddenly he couldn't breathe. It wouldn't last long perhaps, but at least he wouldn't be calling her a whore again any time soon. He probably wouldn't be saying much.
|
|
Nuklearlad
Black Mail Artist
I'm deep, in a "what the heck is he thinking?" kind of way
Posts: 141
|
Post by Nuklearlad on Mar 15, 2007 11:51:20 GMT -5
The leader watched her easily dodge his knife. And she was coming towards them! Damnit! This was going bad to worse. The cops were going to show eventually. This was about the money not sadism... there'd be time for that when their own lives weren't on the line. He looked around for something heavy and his eyes settled on a long length of pipe. He grabbed it and marched towards the girl. She was fast, the little skank, but if he swung wide and around her midsection there shouldn't be any instinctive reaction that could save her.
Seeing their leader start some violence shook the boys from their stupor. They grinned. One of the gunmen held his aim on Tom and Janet. The rest of the men rushed to catch up with the leader
|
|
|
Post by pleadingvirtue on Mar 15, 2007 15:32:25 GMT -5
"You know, it's rude to ignore people's questions. Are you looking for money? Those two don't look like they have much. Maybe you should sell your guns. I'm sure that would help." Karma lectured. But the men seemed uninterested in what she had to say. Just another side effect of cleavage. Maybe if she got a cape, people would realize that she was a superhero. Sometimes her outfit confused people. It was getting late now, and Karma was almost at the end of her shift. She would have to make it quick. The thugs were approaching her now, and the leader was holding a pipe. She eyed them warily. Her feelings were still a little hurt. All she needed was for the leader to swing the pipe, and then it would be on. But at the same time, she was a little nervous about fighting them. Since she'd been on the job, this was only the second crime she'd run into, what with her lack of crime-detection powers. And the first crime hadn't been quite so demanding. She stood up a little taller and stared the leader straight in the eyes. She kind of hoped that he would back down, but she knew he wouldn't. Who would back down from a girl? Even one as badass as Karma? She shifted herself into a stance, ready to dart out of reach of the pipe if necessary. But Karma knew she would never run from a fight. She was ready for him.
|
|
Nuklearlad
Black Mail Artist
I'm deep, in a "what the heck is he thinking?" kind of way
Posts: 141
|
Post by Nuklearlad on Mar 15, 2007 22:45:59 GMT -5
The gang leader was waiting for the girl to run, she didn't. But she didn't scream or scratch him or anything. So he stood still again and waited for a sales pitch. If she was reasonable, maybe he'd have time afterwards. But instead she pointed out how little money the couple was likely to have. Well, his men were useless, drooling all over their shoes. Maybe he should show them why he was the leader with a little class.
"Look miss, I don't know if you totally understand what's going on here. I threw a knife at you. My boys and I are advancing on you with weapons. These are subtle hints to run on home, and start banging your professor for a passing grade in math. If you think you can commit a better mugging? That's your business. Go find your own mark. But if not? Use what God apparently gave you instead of a brain and go get on the honor roll."
Smiling broadly, our not-so-classy leader nodded friendly like, and tried to urge this strange girl on home. He knew from experience hiding bodies, especially of hookers, was tough. Better to scare, take the cash, and run. If she's not scared... well reason was worth a shot.
|
|
|
Post by pleadingvirtue on Mar 16, 2007 9:59:08 GMT -5
"Ah, yes. The witty banter. So comic books aren't all lies. That's good to know. At the end are you going to say 'And I would have gotten away with it too, if it wasn't for that pesky woman.'? You wanna know another comic book cliché? Bad guys lose."
Karma in fact had no idea whether that was true or not. Her comic book experiences were pretty much limited to Archie comics. But she was pretty sure that there couldn't be too many comic books out there in which the good guy lost. Suddenly, in a moment of particularly clear thought, she wished that she had more than one pair of fuzzy handcuffs. Maybe she should give them a chance to back down.
"How about you guys let those two go, and head home before I embarrass you in front of your intended victims? It could get a little awkward if you don't."
She was pretty sure they wouldn't heed her warning, but at least she tried. She could kick some ass with a clean conscience.
|
|
Nuklearlad
Black Mail Artist
I'm deep, in a "what the heck is he thinking?" kind of way
Posts: 141
|
Post by Nuklearlad on Mar 16, 2007 11:14:52 GMT -5
Well it was bound to happend eventually. The gang's confusion gave way to anger. The leader shook his head and took a step back. Pointing with the pipe he just said "Waste her!"
Three sharp shots rang out as the gunmen fired. In the same instant 2 more men launched themselves at Karma.
|
|
|
Post by pleadingvirtue on Mar 16, 2007 11:58:49 GMT -5
Luckily Karma was ready for them. She focussed her energy on the evil they had been doing, and held up her hand. The bullets stopped just short of her. Then, they slowly turned to point at the thugs. For a second, she almost lost focus as she realized what she was doing. This was awesome! But then she recovered herself and closed her eyes and shot the bullets back at them. She heard their groans, and opened her eyes. She was disappointed to see the leader still standing, but he hadn't actually fired anything at her. The gunmen were on the ground writhing in pain. The bullets had only hit their extremities. Oh well. The two who had tried to attack her had been knocked back 3.14 times as far as they had leapt at her. One was unconscious, the other rubbing his head in confusion. Karma was pleased overall.
|
|
Nuklearlad
Black Mail Artist
I'm deep, in a "what the heck is he thinking?" kind of way
Posts: 141
|
Post by Nuklearlad on Mar 16, 2007 13:02:00 GMT -5
"Holy Hell!" were the words the leader's tongue actually manage to spurt out. He dropped his pipe and backed up towards Tom and Janet.
"Look, lady, I'm sorry... it's just. We owe Tony Tarrano a ton of money. I tried getting it honest like, honest I did. We didn't know what else to do. Don't hurt me! I was just trying to protect myself and my friends!"
Tom and Janet ran off down the alley. The leader took off after them.
|
|
|
Post by pleadingvirtue on Mar 16, 2007 14:31:01 GMT -5
Karma smiled and watched him run. That was kind of fun. She reached down into her boot and pulled out a small cellphone. She flipped it open nonchalantly and called the police. She let them know that she had potential muggers there, lying in the alley. She started considering what to do with them to keep them there. She couldn't be there when the police arrived. That was, like, superhero code or something. She remembered it being mentioned when she was recruited. She only had one pair of handcuffs, and that wouldn't cut it. She sighed and ducked behind a dumpster. She crouched down and took her boots off, and then her fishnet stockings. She pulled the boots back on and stepped out again. Carefully, she tied the would-be muggers to each other. She stepped back and surveyed her work. Not too bad. But she would have to find some more stockings to wear. She thought she might have some at her apartment. Suddenly she yawned widely. She flipped open her cellphone again to check the time. Yikes. With one last look at her accomplishment, she slipped out of the alley and began the journey to her apartment. She could hear the sirens of the approaching ambulances as she turned the corner off the street.
|
|
Nuklearlad
Black Mail Artist
I'm deep, in a "what the heck is he thinking?" kind of way
Posts: 141
|
Post by Nuklearlad on Mar 16, 2007 23:09:32 GMT -5
BOOM! Flames erupted in every direction down the street. A jewellry store was completely immolated and out of the fire stepped a well dressed man. The Subtle Anarchist.
The young store clerk stumbled out of the broken window behind him. Soot and burns covered most of his face and hands. The collar of his shirt was still burning a bit. When he realized that, he jumped in fright and began frantically putting it out. He looked up at the completely perfect dress and body of The Subtle Anarchist. Not only did the Anarchist not have any fire damage, he was also apparently impervious to soot. The Anarchist was adjusting his new golden watch and setting it what appeared to be 11pm. Which was odd, since it was not even noon yet.
Of course, it was the least of the many odd things on the clerk's mind.
"What... How... Why would you DO that!?" Sputtered the clerk.
I liked this watch. It had a certain charm to it and it was very well crafted. So now it's mine. said the Anarchist with a conversational tone.
"But it's not even the most valuable watch in the store! It's cheap! I had a woman turn her nose up at it this very morning!"
Yes, well, the laws of fashion don't apply to me. Actually, no laws apply to me. The Anarchist chuckled at that. He put the new watch on his wrist and held it out at arm's length staring with appreciation. Then he looked more seriously at the clerk. Are you going to be alright? I had and have no impulse to harm you.
"Yes... I think I'll be alright." said the clerk, still somewhat in shock.
Excellent. I'm glad. You know sir, I like you. Here's a small token of my appreciation. What's something you'd like? Anything at all. Don't think, answer on impulse.
The clerk was got so off-guard he did what few of us would in that situation. He answered honestly.
"I'd really like my Dad's old pocket-watch. I had to pawn it at the Knight's Pawn on 13th street during some tough times."
Happy to help, my good sir. said the Anarchist with a wink. He took off into the sky a brilliant fireball. Instants later he return again and landed like a missile on the sidewalk. Stepping out of the flames, once again unscathed he handed the clerk a pile of pocket-watches Sorry, forgot to ask what it looked like.
|
|
|
Post by pleadingvirtue on Mar 22, 2007 14:53:38 GMT -5
Millie woke up in her apartment around ten in the morning. She was completely exhausted, and had that strange tingly feeling that she always got after she used a great deal of power in a short amount of time. She rolled out of her bed and glanced at the clothes strewn across her floor. Her mask was carelessly tossed on a chair. She swore gently and rubbed her head as she padded across the room to pick it up and stuck it in her drawer behind her vast underwear collection. Then she picked out a pair of underwear and slipped into them. She found herself a pair of fitted jeans and pulled them on over top. She selected a bra from beneath a pile of discarded clothes. Then she tried on a shirt, but found that the bra was visible through it, and decided instead on a soft light brown sweater. She snuggled herself slightly, and ran a hand through her medium length brown hair. Feeling satisfied, she grabbed a pair of socks and meandered towards the kitchen. She had to eat before returning fully to her civilian life. And today was going to be a big day. She could feel it beneath the tingles of power in her veins.
|
|
Nuklearlad
Black Mail Artist
I'm deep, in a "what the heck is he thinking?" kind of way
Posts: 141
|
Post by Nuklearlad on Mar 24, 2007 13:55:17 GMT -5
Ah, another glorious morning in Intrepid. Sun shining. People out and off to work. City construction slowing people down and creating massive road-rage filled traffic jams. Yelling, swearing, screaming, bird-flipping, horn-honking. Oh look, one citizen has pulled a gun out of his glove box to shoot at another random person's car. Isn't city life grand?
Today however, it was being spoiled by a giant statue. Totem was having a morning stroll. Except instead of strolling, he was speeding down Vermont St. at about 30 miles an hour, head down slamming cars out of his way like a charging rhino.
WHAM!
WHAM!
WHAM! WHAM!
One man's Corvette actually flipped into the air, smashing the front display of his store to horrible pieces and ruining him economically forever. But he overcharged anyway.
WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! SEE ABOVE!
The police, in usual fashion have set up a roadblock using armoured cars and a tank on loan from the national guard. As their bullets and shells ricochet off Totem's stone hide the infinitesimally small bits of rock they chip off is already growing back. Totem's not even slowing down.
As the huge rock figure careens down on the hapless police, a well-dressed figure watches from a nearby roof top.
"This should be entertaining..."
|
|
|
Post by CoffeeCrisp on Mar 25, 2007 10:34:11 GMT -5
From the comfort and warmth of Arbor St. Diner, Eric did his very best to remain oblivious to the wanton chaos outside. He wasn't finished his crossword, yet.
Five letters across. Second letter, O. Fourth letter, E. An object, being or animal which has personal symbolic meaning to an individual and to whose phenomena and energy one feels closely associated with during one's life.
Mr. Gleeson muttered an oath into his coffee mug, feeling very much like an irritable old man. In his day, crosswords weren't full of cryptic gibberish and nonsense. Disgusted, the gentleman cast away his three-dollar copy of The Sun. Overpriced junk. Why, he remembered a time when a nickle-- WHAM! A nickle-- WHAM! Eric scowled. A nickle...! WHAM! WHAM!
Slowly, Eric turned around in his seat, calmly watching what might have been the town statue turn a Mercedes into scrap metal. "I hate mondays." Keys jingling in his palm, the unhappy superhero drained his coffeecup and headed for the street. A moment later, the engine of his bike roared to life, leaving nothing but a trail of exhaust fumes to mark his passing.
Wordlessly, the waitress brought up Mr. Gleeson's tab on her monitor, hoping this puff-of-smoke routine didn't become habit.
Fortunately for Mr. Silvertongue, Totem left a relatively clear path in his wake. Nothing the BMW couldn't handle, anyway. Spinning along at a fairly steady clip, Eric burned rubber, drawing close enough to get his first proper look at the... stone... berserker...? Behind his helmet's protective visor, the old man's eyebrows shot up.
How, exactly, does one give pause to a ten-tonne behemoth of apparently organic rock?
|
|
Nuklearlad
Black Mail Artist
I'm deep, in a "what the heck is he thinking?" kind of way
Posts: 141
|
Post by Nuklearlad on Mar 25, 2007 12:01:27 GMT -5
Totem's brain was always little more then a tortured scream. He was incapable of little else on a conscious level. Dr. Solanum however was capable of much more, including amusement. Through the eyes of his gargantuan puppet, the Master Manipulator was enjoying himself immensely. His voice echoed along the pain in Totem's brain.
Look Totem, behind us, it's my old friend Mr. Silvertongue. Still riding that two-wheeled deathtrap I see. A man his age really should drive something a little safer. What do you say we help him find a new ride?
Totem roared his affirmative and bent to the now demolished road block. Picking up the half crushed carcass of the Tank and lifting it high above his head, Totem let loose an animal roar. He hurled the tank at the oncoming bike.
===========================
Meanwhile the Anarchist felt compelled to get a ground level view. He walked over to the stairs, whistling "My Darling Clementine".
|
|
|
Post by CoffeeCrisp on Mar 26, 2007 10:19:43 GMT -5
Totem heaved the oversized tin can on high, roaring his challenge. Eric really didn't have the opportunity to back down.
Instinctively, the superhero made a sharp left turn and went down with his bike, leaving a sticky hot trail of smouldering rubber behind him. The impromptu projectile struck concrete a good twelve feet away-- almost exactly where Mr. Silvertongue would have been. It bounced once, and rolled until a pile of cars caught it short. Meanwhile, man and machine went skittering in awkward directions. Tucking into a roll, Eric abandoned his bike and hit a ripped-up chunk of concrete feet-first at a piddly five miles per hour. His back ached, hot and sore against the distressed leather of his jacket. He'd have a nasty case of rug-burn to tend to, tonight. he was in pain, but he was alive. He couldn't say the same for the BMW.
Waiting for the sky above to stop spinning, Eric Gleeson looked, for all the world, like a dead man. He couldn't move, and he was starting to get the sneaking suspicion that he had bitten off more than he could chew. Next time, he decided, he would stay inside the damn coffee house. Let the younger, stronger superheroes handle the raging rock demons. He was getting too damn old for these shenanigans... Actually, now that he thought of it, where were his reinforcements? This sort of pandemonium normally merited a lot of attention from the supercommunity. "... damn kids..."
|
|