Crius

Mr Maniacal stretched his head around his female hostage, staring at Ef from behind his goggles, grinning ever so slightly.

With hostage at knifepoint, he stepped forward with a limp towards the shadowy figure. Drawing the knife back, he gently cut free the binds holding the girl's hands. He produced a roll of duct tape from his jacket and handed it to her gently, pointing with the knife at Ef.

"Tape him up, sweety. Good and tight...use the whole roll, why not. Then run."


Leaning down, he cut the binds holding the girl's legs and stepped back towards where Holly Steel was still laid out cold. Quickly bending down, he grasped her arm tight and hauled her up, holding the dagger to her unconcious face and making a small cut.

"And no funny tricks, Mr Shadow Man...I don't wanna harm this pretty face if I can help it."

The grin on his face disappeared as the bullet tore through his right leg, causing his footing to waver.

Immediately, his demeanour changed. Once his right leg was again steady, albeit bleeding, the baseball bat swung with force against the back of the nurse's head, sending her flying like a macarbe Piñata doll towards the door.

As she crashed down to the floor, he grasped the neck of the young female, dagger pressed to her throat, turning to the hostages and their new accomplice.

Mr Maniacal turned at the last second, hearing Holly's clunking feet too late.

Her forehead smashed against his nose and goggles, sending him staggering back.

However, a grin immediately spread across his face, and using the momentum, he staggered and span, delivering a strong backfist spin, baseball bat in hand.

Mr Maniacal sat there, nonchalant and grinning to himself as the rafter fell to the floor with a thundering bang. The hostages muffled cries of protest and fear could be heard, while Maniacal slowly climbed to his feet, using the baseball bat as a prop.

He hummed to himself, gently stepping over Holly and doing a little skip down the line.

"Show's about to begin guys and gals. But none of you seem to be having any fun..."

A frown and mock sad face was plastered over Mr Maniacal's face as he stared at his hostages. His feet came to a halt in front of the businessman, who immediately knew something terrible was about to happen, squirming in his bonds.




"...Batter up!"


The sickening sound of wood impacting bone and flesh made all the hostages wince and scream. The businessman's now limp body fell on to the nurse next to him as she burst into tears.

A frightening grin plastered on his face, Maniacal leant down to the woman, wiping her face with his gloved hand.

"The fun's just beginning, sweety..."

Pushing the now-heavily-bleeding businessman away, he lifted the nurse up by her hair, making sure she was stood up steady. His imposing goggles stared into her eyes before he led her over into the centre of the room, placing her between the door and the other hostages.

Bouncing back over to the hostages, he grabbed the young female of the couple, giving her boyfriend a look and a grin as he let out a muffled scream. Leading her to the same position as the nurse, he placed them shoulder to shoulder, before sticking his head in between theirs and whispering a message.

"Now, don't move. Naughty girls get punished."

Mr Maniacal grinned to himself as he slid the baseball bat off of Holly's back, twirling it around in his hands.

"Now, now...whatever were you planning on doing with this."

He took a step back, standing in a mock baseball stance, rocking back and forth.

"Batter up!" His voice bellowed before he took a large swing.


Initially aiming for Holly's arm, before changing direction and striking her metal foot with all his might.
The clang of wood on metal was loud, the reverb leaving Mr Maniacal shaking.

Dragging the bat along the floor, he grabbed Holly's arm with one hand and dragged her over to where the others were sat, leaving her laid face down in front of the bound young couple.

He used Holly as a stepping stone, stepping up and over and sitting back in between the couple, Holly becoming his new foot rest as he sat there, baseball bat laid in his legs, waiting.

The Damned stumbled around another corner, collapsing against a wall to catch his breath. A sharp cough erupted from him, blood coming with it.

He wiped his mouth clean and continued down the corner, turning another corner. A sharp flash of light and noise and he collapsed almost instantly. He'd found Mechano's make-shift entrance.


----------------------------------------------------------


Mr Maniacal leapt from his seat between the couple at the party crasher bursting in through the roof.

He ambled over, twirling a dagger in his hand before crouching down near the red-haired intruder. He grinned and stroked his chin as he looked her up and down before placing a heavy boot on her midriff and pressing down, holding her there.

"Well, well...this party is getting interesting" he whispered, gently tapping the dagger against one of Holly's lip piercings. Reaching into his jacket, he produced a roll of duct tape before turning Holly over and taping her hands and legs.

He stood, taking a few seconds to admire his handiwork before he heard the commotion erupting further down in the depths of the warehouse.

"Not long now till they finally get here...they're gonna love my party gifts!"

The Damned picked himself up out of the remains of the crate he'd been blown into.

His feet stumbled as he rose, his stance much less steady than before. He shook his head sharply, looking around the dusty corridor at what was left of the human shield he was stood behind: a sight that could be considered worse than what Mr Maniacal had broadcast. He clenched his fists once more, stumbling a little as his hands ignited.

"I'm...gonna get...my money..."


----------------------------------------------------------


Deeper within the factory, Mr Maniacal had retaken his seat between the young, bound couple.

He grinned to himself, adjusting his goggles with one hand as he hugged the girl close with the other.

"It's begun, darling. This is gonna be so much fun."

The door splintered, cracked and crashed to the floor, smashed off its hinges.


Light poured in through the door, showing what lay just beyond: a small group of gang members, mostly from the Hellions, though some Skulls and Outcasts also, maybe 15 at the most, tightly packed, shoulder to shoulder across the corridor. Each carried some kind of firearm.

"Alright..." A voice came from behind the line, a Damned Hellion stepping forward, his fists burning slowly.

"The maniac said he'd pay us double if we last longer than 10 minutes. So let's do it."

((Warning: This could probably be classed as pretty disturbing to some. Violent to others. But I wanted to give this a go, with a very tangible, real villain that could cause some real reactions from people.))
((Another disclaimer: I have no 'real' plan. I have ideas, and I know kinda what I want to happen. But I also want this to be more about reactions rather than being all laid out. The character involved is not really methodical and will probably rub lots of people up the wrong way, but that's the idea If you have any ideas/suggestions/other, feel free to PM. Is my first time, after all))





The television sets across Paragon City began to flicker. The screens gradually changed from the regular broadcasts to something entirely different. Something that looked like a regular warehouse interior.


The first few bars of Mr Bungle's Quote Unquote would be instantly recognisable to anyone who had heard the song before. It bellowed out through speakers across the city district.
The first lines of the song slowly echoed out, followed on screen by a shadowy figure, miming along with the words directly to the camera.

"All behold the spectacle
A fleshy limbless rectangle
Sitting on a pedestal"

He slowly backpedalled away from the camera, revealing what the song described. Switchboards across the city instantly became inundated with complaint calls, while heroes sat up and began to take notice.

The figure drew close to the camera once more as the music died down, the man's murky goggles filling up the entire screen as he began speaking.



"Paragon City..." he slurred, seeming almost drunk. Or on drugs. But neither was the truth.

"You know, for too long, I've been sat there in the "Etoile Isles"". His words were spoke with an underlying current of menace, especially over the place he mentioned.

The goggles drew back from the screen, the mans lips instead becoming the focus of the camera.
"That place is bad...but it's nothing compared to you lot."



The camera panned to the right, focusing on 6 people sat against a wall. Tied, hands and feet, each with what seemed like a roll of duct tape around their mouths.

Their eyes were filled with fear and their bodies squirmed as the man drew nearer and crouched down, his gloved hand reaching out and stroking the face of the nearest hostage, what looked to be a 19 or 20 year old female student. His lips curled in a grin as he spoke to her, instead of the camera.
"Well, most of you anyway."



He stood up and walked along the line. The student was first, followed by a typical looking businessman. Suit, tie, looked to be mid 30s. His suitcase lay next to him.

Next in line, a female in her late 30s, or early 40s. She wore typical 'civilian' clothes, though a badge on her shirt suggested she was a store assistant.

The next, another female, mid 20s. Dressed in a nurses outfit, she looked every man's dream. The leather clad figure menacingly stepped over her bound legs, staring down at her as he continued down the line.

The final two figures were the most scared, and it could easily be seen why. They were both young, likely late teens. The way the young man kept staring at the girl bound next to him gave the clues away instantly: the two were young lovers.

Trenchcoat flapping, the frightening man pushed and squeezed himself between the two, sitting in the same position they were, legs outstretched. He stretched his arms around the two, hugging them close, their muffled screams easily heard.



"The people where I come from...they're boring to hurt. They all have this...I dunno...misguided sense of loyalty. You torture one of those 'Family' goons, and all he's gonna give you is a spit in the face, 'cause he thinks his boss will be proud of him."

A gloved hand reached inside his jacket, and it appeared again brandishing a large dagger, plain...but obviously worn. He gently stroked the cheek of the teen girl with the flat of the blade before turning back to the camera.

"But you torture these people...people with a life. People with a job. People with friends..."
He looked at the young boy to his right again and smiled, before turning to the girl, licking his lips.
"...people with a love. And well...it's just so much more FUN!"



With the word, he jumped up, knocking the girl over on to her side, unable to do anything but lay there. The goggles again forced their way into the camera lens, the man's glazed eyes vaguely visible beneath them.

"I'm Mr Maniacal. May have heard of me, probably not...but that's what I'm here to change!"

He laughed and stepped back, opening his coat as he did, his free hand grabbing another dagger. Stepping back across to the girl, he lifted her back up into a sitting position.

"These six people..." He said as he walked his way down the line, one of his daggers slapping each in the face as he went past.

"...well, seven. If you count that one." He grinned, pointing off camera to the macabre remains that graced the start of the 'broadcast'.

"These seven people...you probably don't know them either. But it's you heroes...the ones this city is famous for...that I find so entertaining. It's you that made me come over here."

He paced back and forth, skipping ever so slightly with some steps, clearly excited like a child gets over the promise of sweets.

"You're all 'selfless' right? So you'd risk your lives for these people...these six people. People who, let's face it...are pretty worthless, in the grand scheme of things."

Stepping close to the camera, the man addressed his watchers.



"But whatever...I'm in a warehouse, you can probably tell by now. And I'll narrow it down for you too...Kings Row."

Pushing the camera back a little, he stepped to the side and stood in shot, with the 6 people sat down behind him.

"So, come find my little party, and we'll have a great time. I mean, look...look at their faces..."

The camera was picked up and moved in close, taking a slow pan across of each of the terrified pairs of eyes, before being turned around to focus on the image of the goggled man beaming brightly.



"Can't you see how much FUN we're gonna have?!"

With another menacing laugh, a knife was thrust into the camera lens, the image on the televisions turning to static before slowly filtering back to their scheduled programs.

Sounds like the Supergroup Base stuff to me

“It was around this time that you came to Paragon, if I’m not mistaken.” The lawyer continued in his odd dulcet tone, unfitting for his build. Gabe sat and watched the lawyer as he thumbed through pages of the dossier, shuffling a little, causing his chains to clang and echo around the now silent interview room.


“Something happened, something changed you. And you turned to murder. We have a long list of victims here, Mister Silveria. All with your distinct method. No visible signs of break-in, no signs of a struggle. Just one swift cut across the throat. You had the PPD stumped for a long time, didn’t you…”
Gabe shuffled uneasily in his cold metal chair, his head cocking a little, trying to assess the situation, find out what this mysterious lawyer wanted.


“What’s the point of this? I’m already serving my time.” Gabe retorted, his voice unwavering but his mind not so.


“The point? The point is, Mister Silveria, you have a unique talent. And it is a talent that my employer is greatly interested in.” The lawyer slowly closed the paper dossier in front of him, placing his hands on it and staring at Gabe with deep, dark blue eyes.

“My name is Mr Johnson,” the lawyer continued. “I work for a Mr Mason, a man interested in expanding his business ventures into this part of the world. However, what he needs is a group of like minded people, people willing to enforce his view here. We know you have ventured to the Etoile Isles before.”


Gabriel remained silent, continuing to stare at the lawyer, feeling extremely uneasy about keeping his gaze.


“Mr Mason thinks you are a perfect candidate. A break out has been scheduled for the near future, but thanks to the nature of this prison, the only safe place to land is near D Block.” The lawyer shifted in position ever so slightly, leaning forward. “If you get yourself in to D Block before that day, you will be taken care of. Equipment and clothing will be provided once you make it to a set rendezvous. And you will be allowed to do whatsoever you wish, as long as you remain loyal to Mr Mason.”


Gabriel leant forward and rested his manacled hands on the table, almost threateningly. “And what if I don’t want to work for Mr Mason? I have my own things to take care of…” he softly growled, the intent behind his voice easily recognisable. He didn’t like the idea of working under someone again. Freedom was much more fun, and allowed him to carry out his job in peace.

“Mr Silveria, I was told this situation might arise. Mr Mason is well aware of your ‘mission’ in life. And he told me to present you with this.” The lawyer was almost whispering as a dark brown envelope was laid on the table.

Gabe slowly opened the lip of the envelope, sliding out the photo and documents gradually. He stopped as the photo was only half way, the image on it already burned into Gabriel’s mind. He lifted his head to glare at the lawyer.



“Mr Mason knows you better than you do, Gabriel. Be prepared.”

"Hey, have you heard about that band, The Pipedream?"
"They the one with that guy with the powerful voice?"
"Joey Stahl, yeah. Apparently they got a gig going down soon in that club in Kings, the Fourth Wall."
"Really? Awesome...we should -so- get down there for that."
"I know...mixing with all those hero types? It'd be wicked!"

2 students at the University Of Steel Canyon

South Brooklyn, Midnight - Then

The rain lashed down as Justice Enforcer sprinted down a back-alley, crashing into bins and cardboard boxes as if he was in a pinball machine. He clattered down to the soaked floor, bashing his head against a stray, sole brick. A whimper escaped his lips as he climbed back to his feet, his legs powering him down the alley as fast as his super-human muscles could propel him. His sodden outfit, dashed with Red, White and Blue, was covered in specks of his own blood, some from the encounter with the brick, some from an encounter a few moments before.

He bounded round a corner, his heavy boots rupturing puddles and splashing loudly. Panting heavily, he came to a stop, resting against the wall of a run-down apartment block. He caught his breath and sprinted off again, around another corner.


He came to a swift and sudden stop, staring down at his stomach where there was suddenly intense pain. He’d felt this pain before: it felt as if somebody had stabbed him, but there was nothing there. He glanced around furiously, doubling over in pain. His eyes flickered and he looked forward as the light in front of him changed. A dark figure slowly materialised in front of him, the light that was refracting around him now revealing his form. Clad head to toe in black armoured leather with imposing goggles and mask covering his face, he was stood at a right angle to the hero, his right arm outstretched holding an Impervium Blade point first, directly passing through Justice Enforcer’s flesh and out the other side. It was here in this position they seemed to stand for hours before the armoured sword wielder slowly turned and placed a hand on Justice’s shoulder, helping him stand up straight, leaning in close to his ear.


“We’re disappointed with you, friend. You had potential…one of the best, possibly. But you were reckless. You used your powers without due care and attention. You destroyed that kiosk and you injured that poor woman. You think being a hero means you can get away with it.”


The words caused the mask to move in mysterious and
unnerving ways as he slowly withdrew his hand from the hero’s shoulder and twisted back to his original position.


“You brought this on yourself. You brought your sentence forward. It happens to us all.”


In one swift movement, the armoured foe was facing away from Justice Enforcer, the sword now arced up, following the contours of his back. Justice Enforcer could do nothing but moan in pain as he collapsed from blood-loss. His last sights in this world were one of his assassin, radioing his superiors, saying the job was complete, before fading back into the dark, stormy night.



Gabriel Silveria
Private Office, The Zig - Now

The lawyer sat opposite him slowly turned a page in the dossier laid on the table in front of him, watching Gabe’s reactions.

“We know all about you. Your exploits. And what you became,” he murmured, almost unearthly, turning another page. “This is where the story really gets interesting.”

Showers, Male Block, The Ziggurat - Now

Gabriel frowned to himself as he stepped on to the cracked, slowly wearing tiles. He stepped up to one of the open spaces, keeping his eyes and hands to himself and tugged on one of the chains, a stream of hot water suddenly engulfing his body. Even in here, his imposing wrist bands had to stay on. The wardens knew of his power and they knew what would happen if he managed to get them off.

It was at this point, man was most vulnerable. Naked, and surrounded by peers who all want to prove themselves. Gabriel, with his slender build and pronounced features, was an easy target. There had been a fair share of people wanting to control him. A majority of those had given up when Gabriel offered no reactions, nothing to control. A few had to be taught the hard way.



“Cha, look’ere. Boy don’ look ‘bove 18, seen. ‘Ere…pretty boy. Wha’ you done ‘pon the outside to be in ‘ere? Must done terrible tings... or ‘ave a death wish, boy…”

Gabriel turned his head to the antagonist, a muscular African-American, torso covered in tattoos designed to be intimidating. Someone who likely had something to prove to the others in there. Someone who had to do something to keep himself off the bottom rung. Dreadlocks covered the right side of his face before he brushed them aside, the makeshift weapon in his hand glinting under the dim lights as he did. The similar looking man to his right grinned maniacally as the dreadlocked foe made his move, swinging his arm wildly.



A flurry of arms followed, the man quickly being subdued by a burst of a martial art similar in execution to Aikido or Krav Maga. The tattooed man screamed in pain, falling to his knees as Gabriel stood behind him, calmly holding his aggressor’s wrist and hand at a ninety degree angle to his arm, forcing his opponent to drop the weapon to the tiles. He placed one hand on his dreadlocks and gripped tightly as he slowly leant down to the man’s ear, whispering unearthly.

“We all have a death wish, friend. Most try to hide it. Suppress it. The sooner everyone realizes the favour I’m doing them…the better.”


He pushed the man forward roughly onto the cold, wet tiles in front of his partner-in-crime and stood before them as two guards stormed in. A nightstick swiftly struck Gabriel across his stomach, sending him reeling to the floor, choking for air. The two other prisoners cackled as they were ushered away, Gabriel giving them one last menacing look as he was dragged back to his feet and out of the showers, back to his cell. He was dumped into the murky cell unceremoniously, his jumpsuit flung into his face as he turned to the door.

“Get dressed, pretty boy. You’ve got a visitor.”

Gabriel Silveria
Male Block, Canteen, The Zig - Now

Gabriel’s eyes shifted and scanned the canteen as he shuffled in through the imposing cast-iron gates. He picked out those to avoid, the ones it wasn’t worth sitting near, just in case. The two large metallic wrist bands he was made to wear clanged together loudly as he snatched his tray from the counter and made a bee-line for the nearest, safest seat. Heads turned and bodies shuffled towards the reverberating noise in the otherwise quiet canteen as Gabriel sat down and stared at the tray of processed meat before him.

He placed his hands on the table softly, the metal bands banging against the surface as his dark emerald eyes stared at them coldly, still marvelling at how someone had managed to create something that stopped him from using his power. Somehow, the two devices strapped to his wrists stopped him from refracting light around his body and appearing invisible: something which he longed for, something which would give him the chance to get out this pit of depravity and get back to work.

He brushed a hand through his dark hair and scratched at the small, deep scar above his brow: A gift from an old friend. His eyes darted around his table at the others in the same bright orange jumpsuits as him, each with their own little nuances but none really distinguishable from the other. A small snort of derision escaped from him as the muscular man at the end of the table nodded his head in challenge.

Gabriel turned his head back to his tray of protein, calmly picking up his plastic fork as the man rose from the table, calling out some obscenities, referencing wives and children. Gabriel’s hand tightened around the fork, the cold plastic digging into his tanned flesh, but he didn’t retort or flinch. His fork dug into the slowly congealing meal in front of him as the man sat back down, laughing and joking about how gutless Gabriel was.

Gabe’s sullen eyes gave the man another glance as the laughter slowly spread around the table. A weak smile wiped across his face as he turned back to his fork, shovelling what he had to assume was food into his mouth. He glanced across the canteen at a similar altercation being calmed down by a man of impressive stature before tilting his head back to get one last look at his joker, thinking to himself.

Not in here, friend. Not in here. But your time will come. It comes for us all, eventually…

Joey Stahl, aka Melphon, suddenly shot bolt upright in his bed. He grabbed his head and winced, his eyes snapping shut again with the pain.


He could hear all the sounds around him. A gentle drip, drip of the tap in his bathroom. The wind howling and whistling through the small gap in his window frame. His heart pounding with fear inside his chest.

He winced again, collapsing back on to the bed in agony as he heard even more. A car alarm blaring out it's cry for help a few streets away. An explosion somehwere in the distance. Police sirens screaming down a street a couple of blocks away.

He squirmed on the bed, his head pounding with all the various noises of the world. His whole body became wracked with agony as he convulsed, squeezing his head tightly.

Suddenly, the sounds subsided almost as quickly as they had begun. He was back in his room, hearing only the now silent whistle of the wind through his window. He climbed out of bed and stumbled into his living room, pouring himself a large whiskey and collapsed in his chair. He swallowed the drink in one, and finished off a couple more before sitting, staring at the far wall.

This is been happening too often now, he thought. He was going to have to get someone to check it out.

Done one more just recently.

Eddie Brock Jr.

Well, evening all!

I've been getting back into this creativity business recently, and I'd love some more eyes to pick out what I'm doing wrong, and right

Clicky to see it all

Take a peek if you can and let me know what you like/don't like/think I can do better!
Any criticism is good criticism!

Local Band Goes Through Super Times
------------------------------------

Local Band 'The Pipedream', recording their debut album currently, have announced a new line up today after a shock annoucement at a record store signing.

Frontman Joey Stahl announced that current bass player Cassie Young would become the lead singer of the band, with him taking a lesser role as lead guitar and the recruitment of a new bass player, yet unnamed.

Fans were shocked at the announcement and some even lambasted the decision, accusing the band of using the female lead to try and propel themselves into starlight. Stahl said that the band had "good reason" to bring Young to the front and that all will be revealed "in due course".

Stahl then went on to say that the band would be out of touch for roughly 5 weeks while they went through some "rigourous practice and honing of skills".

Stahl himself has been seen at City Hall regularly, and has been photographed entering the G.I.F.T offices. Rumours of his voice having a new effect on his fans have been shot down, but with this new singer for the band, the rumours are looking stronger every day.

- Jan 17th, Page 2 of the Paragon Mail

I agree that most villains aren't really...villainous, in all senses. Most of mine before aren't. My main on Defiant before I came to Union was a drugged up Troll who enjoyed destroying things (SS/Inv Brute) but I never really got into roleplay there.

Over here on Union...none of my villains I've never stuck with. Because they were all a bit lacklustre :P
I like my villains to be truly villains: murder, theft and more...for the sheer joy of it, rather than a job.

That's why my newest villain, Mr. Maniacal, is gonna be around for a while I think!

http://img504.imageshack.us/img504/7049/heroeswt0.jpg

I got a bit bored so I thought I'd see what I could make. The PP I hate, but the other 3 are alright.
I'd probably be up for this. Maybe anyway, it seems interesting

<------- Crius

It was good in the end when people showed up. Should do it again some time.

It's Thursday

8:15

I see no-one

I think there needs to be another option.

Steamroller: Run into the mission and build full Fury on the first couple of mobs, then roll through the rest, never stopping for a break unless its absolutely necessary. Best for solo play.

That's me

I don't see how it was a tradegy.
As far as I know, no one has been killed. Therefore, to me anyway, it's just a bad accident but thankfully no one was injured.

If he'd done this for something else where people were killed, yes, that would be tasteless. This is just a lickle iffy