Ex_Libris

Chapter 2:
= = = = = =

The warehouse was mostly dark except for the places where the 5th Columns soldiers moved about and worked, which left a lot of space to move around in. Having snuck around the shadows of the entire warehouse he counted 20 soldiers and one leader-type. Apparently his name was Heinrich but since E didn’t speak German he hadn’t gleaned much else about them or their motives, other than ransoming the children of course.

The children in question were tied up, gagged, and were being held in one of the far corners of the warehouse. There were two more guards watching them, and several others within eyeshot. “Not good.” E thought as he scanned the area further, searching for some advantage. Finally his eyes fell on the ventilation duct near the floor. A bit of light, oscillating red and blue, was leaking in through it. It lead outside! “Bingo.”

The magician worked his wiles on some of the group of soldiers adjacent to the children and their warders. In a few moments it was becoming hard to tell who was hypnotized and who wasn't. A brawl erupted in the middle of the room, becoming a tangle of tight black outfits and assorted curses in both German and English. The two guards watching over the children looked at each other for a moment, shrugged, murmured to themselves for a moment, then played paper-rock-scissors. Having finally decided who was "it" one of them dashed past the melee, disappearing around the corner while the other stayed behind.

Seeing his chance, the fledgling hero sprung into action. First he kicked out the grate over the ventillation duct. It was kinda small, but allowed plenty of room for the kids to crawl through. Getting himself out of there would be another matter. The noise was muffled by the fight raging nearby. With the escape route cleared, E turned his attention to the remaining guard. Luckily the tussle going on in front of him had him mostly distracted. E climbed up onto one of the wooden crates behind the Column soldier and, doing his best impression of a professional wrestler's missile dro-kick, jumped down on him feet-first. The guard crumpled under the impact, and was quickly put down by a couple of quick punches to the head.

The childrend began to squirm and whimper through their gags. E put his finger to his lips in a "hush" motion and most of them quieted down. There were five children in all. Luckily the knots in their ropes were simple, and in a few moments they were free. E ushered them hastily towards the ventillation duct and they scurried inside towards freedom. E's heart lept when the last of them entered the duct until he heard a harsh, accented voice from behind him.

"Was in der Hölle geht auf hier?"

E spun around. The hypnotism had apparently worn off, because the 5th Column soldiers were no longer fighting amongst themselves. Some of them were holding their heads, but most of them were looking at our hero, with guns drawn. A tall figure pushed his way through the mob and most of them snapped to attention. He was just like the others, dressed all in black, with a mask and helmet hiding his face, but the insignias on his chest and red band on his arms set him apart... Heinrich.

"You have poked around in business that is none of your concern, little man," he croaked out in stilted english.

E gulped as he saw the rest of the soldiers raise their rifles. He was cornered with nowhere to run to, and he knew he couldnt mesmerize all of them. E closed his eyes and waited....

"Bereit!" E began to sweat as the Column soldiers all raised their rifles.

" Ziel! " There was the sound of bullets being chambered, the soldiers took aim. Heinrich chuckled and let the moment hang for awhile.

"Eintrag-" Heinrich's order to fire was cut short by an explosionof brick, mortar, and metal.

E dived to the ground behind a crate and peeked around it. Hovering in the air, just inside the hole that had just been smashed in the wall, was a nighmarish figure. A huge form, easily almost seven feet tall, with a body red as blood, grey facial features that were mostly obscured by a cloth mask, and feral, glowing red eyes. Rams horns swept back over his head and a small tail swished in the air behind him. E gasped as he recognized the figure from the newspaper... Helloween... the risen demon.

"Salvation is simple," Helloween intoned, "Redemption is hard." The soldiers stared in stunned silence.

"Töten Sie ihn," Heinrich barked as he clapped one of the soldiers across the back of his head. This snapped most of the Column troops out of their trance and a hail of bullets flew at the demonic hero hovering before them. E fumbled through his pockets, withdrawing the last 4 flash pellets he had brought with him. He popped up to see Helloween absorbing insane amounts of fire. He was shielding his face with his arms, but otherwise the bullets were having little effect. E grasped the flash pellets and launched them into the crowd, spreading them out more or less evenly. The bright flash of light stunned most of the soldiers who were firing.

"Now Helloween!" E shouted as he ducked back down behind the crate.

The hovering demon looked down at the blinded troops below and chuckled an eerie laugh. He rose up in the air a bit, then came down like a hammer, pounding Heinrich to the floor. Then the demon was a flurry of motion. Motes of evergy flew from his fists as he pummelled soldier after soldier. Some of them managed to break away and make a dash for other parts of the warehouse. E grinned to himself and slipped through the shadows, striking the runner from darkness and taking them down quickly. I a few more moments it was over. The soldiers were all unconscious or tied up, and the police were sweeping through the warehouse checking for "strays."

Helloween paid no heed to the goings on around him. He looked down at the yellow-clad magician, nodded silently, and rocketed off through the hole he had blasted in the wall. The hero soon-to-be-known-as Mister E grinned. He had a feeling he'd run into Helloween again. Shrugging off reporters and police he slipped through the alleyways and made his escape into the night.

Several TV reporters were interviewing some of the older children regarding their experience.

"Who was the man that helped you escape?"

"I don't know... he's a... it's a.... mystery."

And thus our hero came to be...

[ QUOTE ]
They already have them out, they are called...

Palladium : Villans and Vigilanties

Palladium : Heros Unlimited

Marvel

Just to name a few that have finished the test of time. Heros Unlimited is probably the closest one to City of Heros in powers and archtypes. They could be the same game they are so close.

[/ QUOTE ]

DC had one briefly also, although the name currently escapes me.

Yeah, Greatest American Hero was a great show.

[ QUOTE ]
[ QUOTE ]
Definitely that "Believe it or not, I'm walking on air!" song from that short lived but highly enjoyable TV show, The Greatest American Hero from the early 80's... MOST definitely!

[/ QUOTE ]
Oh Yea, Thats good,
But this would be My Awesome, Music:

Bonnie Tylers, Holding Out for a Hero
(1st verse only here)
Where have all the good men gone and where are all the gods?
Where's the great white Hercules to fight the rising odds?
Isn't there a white knight upon a fiery steed?
Late at night I toss and I turn and I dream of what i need

I Need a Hero....
And that would be ME (Star_Justice)
lol ok I guess thats kinda vain considering I'm in COH lol

[/ QUOTE ]

Okay, I can't let this go, because it's one of my all-time favorite songs.

It's not "great white hercules". It's "street-wise hercules". And that would likely be Martin's themesong, as well. Either that, or the theme from the short-lived cartoon series "SwatKats". You'd have to hear the theme to understand.

Pardon, but I'm a bit confused on exactly where I can store files with customs binds. Can I store them in the city of heroes folder or will the patcher overwrite/erase this?

I'm not too clear on this. Can someone walk me through how and where I can store my files?

Thanks
Cal

For Kate, my possessed dark defender, it would be Christian Woman by Type O Negative

For Lady Darkstar, my electric blaster, it would be Darkstar by The Gratefull dead, not the most fast paced song in the world, but it suits her charecter.

For Lady Bloodbath, my claws scrapper, it would be Walk by Pantera.

Thevshi:

The next morning found a new blanket of snow replacing all that had been cleared the day before. The air was chillingly cold, and a major snowstorm was due the next day or so. Bernadette paced around the floor of the living room of her home. She had found it difficult to sleep again last night, and was feeling tired again. It was around nine in the morning, and after she had woken her father up, she had pretended to leave for school. She had then made her way back to the house after her father had left.

All right, just calm down lass. Ye ain’t doing yer self any good getting all worked up in anticipation. Soon I’ll ‘ave what I need to figure this all out. One way or another. She glanced out the window at the dark sky that threatened more snow. Looking out at everything, blanketed in snow was truly a beautiful sight.

A knock at the door snapped Bernadette’s mind back to the task at hand. She rushed to the door and quickly opened it. "’Ello, can I . . " she froze as she looked out the door, surprised by who was on the doorstep.

Susan Eddings, also know as Druidess, looked at her with a big smile. “Bernadette dear, you are looking wonderful.”

Bernadette rushed forward and grasped Susan in a fierce hug, with tears of joy in her eyes. “Susan, I didn’ think that Charles would send you on this little errand, but I am so glad that ‘e did.”

Susan hugged Bernadette tightly. “Careful there dear, not all of us are stronger than an Olympic weight lifter.” She held Bernadette back at arms length looking her over closely. “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”

Bernadette smiled at the British woman who had been like a big sister to her for the last five years of her life. “Come on inside, and I will make up a spot ‘o tea. If ye ‘ave the time that is.”

Susan smiled warmly as she started into the house with her arm around Bernadette. “Of course I have the time. Travel by ley lines allows for one to spend plenty of time at ones destination.”

A short while later, Bernadette poured out two cups of tea and took a seat across from Susan. She couldn’t help but smile as she took a sip of her tea. “I can’t tell ye’ ‘ow glad I am to see you Susan. I ‘ave missed you, an’ Charles an’ the others.”

Susan took a sip of tea and smiled in return. “And we have missed you Bernadette. Things have been quite different without you as part of the team. But you seem to be doing quite well here in America. How are things?”

Bernadette just shrugged slightly as she replied, “Well, there was a period ‘o getting used to being in a new place, but that didn’ take long. I ‘ave made several friends at the ‘igh school I attend, most of them are members of a ‘ero team I ‘ave joined, called C.A.S.T. It is great to ‘ave friends that are around my own age.”

Susan’s face saddened slightly as her eyes looked off to one side. “Yes, I have always felt badly that you were secluded from your peers while you were with the Project.” Then she looked back at Bernadette with a sly smile. “So, is there a special young man among these friends?”

Bernadette’s cheeks colored slightly and she looked down at her tea before looking back up at Susan with a smile. “Well, there is one lad, ‘is name is Alex, and ‘e is a member of C.A.S.T. as well. ‘e is ‘andsome and kind, we ‘ave been on a few dates and such.”

Susan beamed as she reached forward to squeeze Bernadette’s hand. “That is splendid dear. I am so happy for you. Just try to remember to that in many ways, you are more mature than most your age, but in others, you are still behind. Take things slow, and just enjoy yourself.”

Susan took another sip of her tea as she looked around the kitchen, then, with a serious look in her eyes, she fixed her gaze back on Bernadette. “And how is your father?”

Bernadette’s smile faded as she looked down at the table, setting her tea down. “’E is the same for the most part. ‘E ‘as a job, but still spends most nights out late at the pubs. We ‘ardly see each other, and that is mainly when I get ‘im to bed or am sobering ‘im up in the morning for work.”

“I am sorry to hear that.” Susan answered, reaching froward again to put her hand on Bernadette’s. “Perhaps it is time you confronted him, got him to seek some form of help?”

Bernadette frowned as she looked away again. “I don’t think so. ‘e probably wouldn’ listen to me.”

Susan’s eyes saddened. “Bernadette, you deserve better than this! Your father is not going to change unless you do something to get him too.”

Her face reddening in anger, Bernadette snapped, “Look, there isn’ a bloody thing I can do! So lets just bloody drop it!”

Susan sat back, slightly startled by Bernadette’s reaction, before she replied calmly, “Very well, I am just concerned about you dear.”

Bernadette hunched over slightly as she looked down, ashamed by her outburst. She quietly replied, “I know, I would rather not talk about it is all.”

Susan looked as if she wanted to say something but stopped. Silence hung in the air before she finally said, “It’s okay dear, but if you ever do need to talk, don’t hesitate to call me. Now, shall we get on with business?” she took one more sip of tea and reached down and picked up a leather attaché case next to her. Setting it down in her lap, she stopped as she opened the latches. Still looking down at the case, she asked, “Are you sure that you want this Bernadette?”

“What do you mean?”

Susan looked at her as she replied. “Well, this can only serve to bring up bad memories for you. Perhaps this is better left in the past?”

Bernadette felt her face redden in anger again, but she managed to control her tongue this time. “I appreciate your concern Susan, but I can’t keep this in the past. Hopefully, this is all for nothing, but I need to know. One way or the other.”

Susan was still a moment before she responded, “Very well, you are a big girl now Bernadette, I just hope you know what you are doing.” She opened up the attaché case and pulled out a brown file folder closed by a white strip of paper that read ‘Your Eyes Only’. She handed the brown folder over to Bernadette. “Here is everything that the SIS was able to discover about Rook, not a lot really, but hopefully it will help you with what ever it is that is going on.”

Bernadette took the file in her hands, a feeling of tense excitement rushed through her as she had to control the urge to rip the file open and start looking at it. “Thank you Susan, I hope that it is all nothing but a bloody waste of time.”

Susan looked at Bernadette with a mock shocked look as she replied, “A waste of time? How could getting to spend some time with you be a waste of time? But I do need to be going now. Perhaps I can arrange some time to come by for a longer visit, maybe when it is less cold.” Susan stood up and put her coat back on.

Putting the file down on the table, Bernadette stood as well replying, “By then, I will know all the good places to take you.” She grabbed Susan in a hug. “Susan, I am so glad you came. And don’ be worrying about me. I can take care of me self.”

Susan returned Bernadette’s hug. “I know dear, just be careful.” She kissed Bernadette’s forehead and stepped back. “Take care Bernadette.” With a quick series of gestures, Susan was surrounded by a ring of light and then gone.

Bernadette’s smile slid from her face as she looked over at the file sitting on the table. She slowly walked over and picked up the file. Just as she was about to tear off the white band, she glanced up at the clock. Bloody ‘ell! I need to get to school. No way I should miss choir after me chat with Mrs. Fredricks yesterday. Bernadette grabbed her book bag, and stuffed the file into it and ran off for the front door. She came dashing back into the kitchen and turned off the range and then headed out the door.

Rook:

**Flames engulfed the towns' small homes. Young children ran out of their bedrooms in a chaotic spree, each screaming out for their parents to come and save them from the rapid explosions. Yet, it was too late...Most of the parents had either died fighting, or were murdered in their sleep.

Rook stood alone on the perimeter of the town with a look of fear and bewilderment on his face.

"I've git ta help those kids...",he said as the flames from the homes caused them to fall to the ground, into a heap of rubble.

Rook ran as fast as he could towards the wreckage. His efforts seemed to be futile though, his legs seemed to be moving in slow motion as child after child was either shot or killed by the searing flames.

Rook's eyes streamed tears down his face as he screamed aloud in anger.

"No!!!! This is wrong!! Stop!!!

His words fell upon deaf ears. No one even turned to notice him.

Gunmen seemed to be everywhere. The villagers who tried to put up a fight were soon slayed by a volley of bullets sprayed from automatic weapons.

Rook fell to his knees at the sight, grasping his face in his palms, he wept.

Then, a small girl in a red dress tugged at Rook's shirt.

"Rook, I need you to help us...", she said softly.

Rook glanced up to the most beautiful sight he'd seen in a long time. There stood Megan, Rook's little sister. Megan stared at Rook with sincere eyes and ran towards the flames.

"Megan...no!!!!", cried Rook, as he reached out his hand to grasp her, but missed.

Rook ran towards his sister and towards the flames, but she was gone when Rook neared the homes.

Then, a figure, shrouded in the shadows walked slowly out of the flames. In his hands, he grasped the charred bodies of children and many others who didn't escape the inferno. His skin was covered in the black remains of the smoke. His face showed bright green eyes and a grin that Rook knew all to well.

Rook glanced at the apparition of himself and yelled out in a ghostly scream.**

FWAAAPAM!!, was the sound of Rook's fist pounding through his alarm clock, desk and lamp which once sat on his nightstand next to his bed.

His eyes glared bright green and his fist still sizzled from the radioactive punch he just laid on his menacing...alarm.

His stomach moved back and forth very quickly as he breathed quick gasps of air. Again, he was covered in sweat from the horrible nightmare the night before. This one had to be the most vivid one yet.

Rook rolled out of his bed and walked over to his window. It was 5:30 am. The sun had still not risen over the skyline, and the streets and trees were covered with a thick blanket of snow.

Rook originally had only one thing on his agenda today. He was to be at Team1 HQ early today. It was his day to train some of the new recruits. He actually liked to do it. He believed that he had a certain something that most young people liked. Something that made them intrigued.

The other thing that was now on his plate was to make an appointment with Mr. Edwards' private psychologist. Rook thought that if he didn't get some mental relief quick, then something bad might soon happen.

After taking a long, cold shower, Rook threw on his Team1 uniform. It gave him a sense of power and dignity...something he needed in a time where he now felt powerless and full of shame. His black leather jacket covered his torso to keep him a little warm. The heat in his classic car wasn't working too well, which was very unfortunate for this time of year.

The 1973 black stingray corvette howled in excitement as Rook pumped the gas. Rook smiled as he realized the echo from the garage must have been driving the neighbors crazy this early in the morning.

Ten minutes later, Rook arrived at Team1 HQ. After going through each security check, Rook made his way to the steel doors of the elevator. He clicked on floor 58.

Soon, The door quietly hissed as they slid open. Rook slowly stepped into the Team1 training facility.

Thevshi:

The snows began to fall again that afternoon, a small prelude to the storm expected to hit the next day. At a small table behind rows of books in the Paragon City Public Library, Bernadette was busy going through stacks of old newspapers. Her half-day of school had been almost unbearable, but somehow she had managed to avoid looking at the Rook file.

Now the file sat on the table, opened to the few poor quality photos of Rook that the SIS had been able to obtain. She had quickly read the file, the long list of victims and suspected victims of Rook and his partner Rube Bloodeyes had shocked her. When she had looked at the file previously, she had only been looking for general information on this old IRA assassin and had not paid much attention to the details of his crimes. But now she faced the possibility that this killer was here in Paragon City, and thought of as a hero no less. The long list of victims only served to fuel the anger that had been building in her the last few days.

So far the newspapers were being extremely frustrating. Rook had some how managed to avoid being photographed very much or very clearly. Could this be by design? Another stack of newspapers was flipped over with no picture of Rook. Bernadette held in a scream of frustration as she stood up and carried the stack of newspaper back to the racks. Grabbing another stack, she headed back to the table and began to flip through the pages again, wondering if she would ever find what she needed.

Just then, she found a headline regarding a battle between Team 1 and the Killing Crew. Flipping back to the continuing page, she found a picture that showed Rook. Heart pounding in her chest, Bernadette pulled the SIS file over to compare the pictures. The man in the newspaper was older and had a haunted look in his eyes, but even with the poor quality of the SIS pictures, it was easy to make a connection between the two. Rage boiled up with in Bernadette as she compared the pictures again. It IS bloody ‘im! One of the deadliest IRA assassins ever is living ‘ere in Paragon City! “The bloody *******!” She shouted as she slammed her fist onto the table.

The table shattered into pieces under the impact and Bernadette looked down at the spiderweb cracks that were appearing in the floor under her increased density. She hadn’t remembered standing up or increasing her density.

“What in the world is going on back here?” Called out Gerald Thomas, one of the few librarians on duty, as he quickly walked past the rows of books to where the newspaper racks were. Rounding a row of books, he gapped in shock at the sight of the smashed table with newspapers lying about.

Two blocks away, Bernadette returned her density to normal as she touched down on the roof of a nearby building. As she put the SIS file back into her bookbag, Bernadette was bothered by how she had let her anger get the better of her. Well lass, ye need to be tryin’ ta keep that under control when you go after the *******. Otherwise, it could cost ye.

Bernadette looked up into the snow filled sky, the cold wetness of the falling snow did nothing to cool the anger raging through her. She lifted off into the air, again lowering her density as she started back towards her house.

A short time later, Bernadette passed through the roof of the house into her room. The house stood quite, as her father was most likely out at a pub as he usually would be. Bernadette threw her bookbag into a corner and went into the closet and pulled out a metal suitcase. Opening it up, she pulled out one of the black bodysuits that she had worn at Project Daedalus. The material was designed to help fool infrared and thermal imaging, and was smooth to the touch. It was more form fitting than she would have liked, but that did allow for freedom of movement. Since she had gotten involved with the other teens in C.A.S.T, she had really not put any effort into changing her outfit into something flashier as was often common here in Paragon City. Tonight, wearing a British uniform seemed all the more appropriate. Quickly stripping off her clothes, she slipped the bodysuit on and zipped it up. She grabbed her brown Italian leather jacket to help protect against the intense cold and a pair of gloves. From inside the suitcase, she pulled out a small pair of binoculars, ones that had lowlight and infrared capabilities. She slipped those into a pocket in her jacket and then closed her eyes for a moment and tired to calm her frayed nerves. Excitement and tension flowed through her like a torrent; she opened her eyes and lowered her density again. To bloody ‘ell with it! Time to take the b*stard down! She flew back up through the roof and started off into the snow filled night.

I'm all for Champions, as for character creation...there is a absolutely amazing PC program that lets you make chars/powers/pools...everything with astounding simplicity. I HATE math, and before that computer program I was lothe to play champions, but now you can make a char/npc in like 20 mins tops. With full stats and sets of powers, flaws ect ect.

I've played Fuzion, CHampions, Aeon, Exaulted, Marvel (new and the OLD TSR one..wich was far better then the new) DC, ect ect...and unless you can get the old TSR Marvel, Champs is still the best boat around for great Hero games.

Name: UnityX
Motto: "Unite as One!"
Leader: Jim diGriz, Laden, The Indigo Tease
Player Type: Mature, Casual, Friendly.
Number of members: Just Starting Out...
Current member levels: up to 12
Normal time of Gameplay: 6pm-12:00am GMT
Other information: We're exploring the game together at the moment, and we'd welcome any mature gamers willing to do the same.

You guys all rock.

Thank You very much!

~~DukeP~~

Name: Black Chapter
Motto: "We Know What's Best for Paragon"
Leader: Mr. Midnight
Captain: Aureon
Number of members: Just starting.
Normal Gameplay time: early afternoon and late night.
Member Levels: None specific
Other Info: See topic I put in supergroups forum: http://boards.cityofheroes.com/showf...o=&fpart=1

[ QUOTE ]
[ QUOTE ]
Ihave question may answer. Do you know ho i could do a bind key that to select one after one the different member of my group. I mean without having to directly select them with the lshift + number key. a kind of "group member browser" bind ?

[/ QUOTE ]
The only way I know of to do this would be to do a toggle bind. Make files for ts1-ts8, then in each you would have something like (from ts2.txt):
<key> "team_select 2$$bind_load_file ts3.txt"
and in ts8:
<key> "team_select 8$$bind_load_file ts1.txt"

I have a more detailed version in my "Post your /bind's here" thread (not using my normal browser, so I don't have the URL available).

[/ QUOTE ]

Very good idea, and thx.
But what if there is only four members in my group for example ?

Lobe was too worried about Deth to really notice his new surroundings and all its splendor. He did stare in awe at the winged woman when he first saw her but the suffering of one of his new friends was too much to ignore. He'd seen the strange smoke that spoke enter her eyes, but what it meant he didn't know. He did know that she was in great duress and even had a difficult time walking, which only made him want to carry her but the redness in her frightened him like nothing else had in his life, not even his father. So he let Mr. Fox help her along and settled on keeping his eyes peeled in order to intecept any threat that presented itself in this strange world.

Lobe was very grateful to his new friends and wanted to protect them as much as he could. If it weren't for them he'd still be lost in Paragon City and lonely. Having gotten lost while jumping to an incident in Hope, British Columbia, he'd jumped through town after town, city after city, trying to find his way back home. All he recieved though, were frightened looks and angry words until he'd found Paragon City, where the streets were teeming with superheroes. He figured that this was a good place to wait, until his friends at Crown Council could find him and bring him back home. Now, he had made a whole bunch more friends and he was just as determined to keep them safe as those in his own superteam.

Contact caught up to him, as they walked along in the improbable realm, and gave him a small smile before focusing on the path ahead. Lobe didn't feel much like smiling for once and only nodded in return. It sure would be hard finding a trap in the brilliant whiteness of the realm they walked in but he had to try, for the sake of his friends.

Entrance theme would have to be 'Payback' by James Brown since I am the funk robot.

When the fighting is really thick and horrid 'Good Day' By Peggy Lee, because that would me giggle.

"So a seal goes into a bar and the bartender asks, 'What can I get for ya?'. And the seal replies, 'Anything but a Canadian Club!'".
--Mr Irony, later to be known as Ironycon.


(Theme music. Opening sequence and credits)

(Ext. Atlas park. Atlas memorial in background. Host, Anchor Man in foreground)

AnchorMan: Good evening and welcome to Heroes of Paragon City! I'm your host ANCHOR MAN.
Tonight we're going to take an indepth look at the hero Ironycon. The man, the machine, the Myth!... ... hey wait a minute. This isn't that robot with the fedora and cigar is it?... ... Oh, we're live?


(Int. BurgerKing. Tatianna at a booth. Black mask, black hair, black and silver costume. Giant broadsword. Drinking a strawberry shake.)

Tatianna: Yeah, I remember Ironycon. Weird guy, real wierd guy. When I first started fighting beside him he'd just run in and get hit. 'Wouldn't even throw a punch. He called it 'Tanking'.. .. Whatever.

(int. prestigous office. Books line the walls. Abe Horsworth. historian.)

Abe: When I think of the heroes of Paragon city, certain names come to mind. Miss Liberty, Positron, Valkyrie--

AnchorMan: And what about Ironycon?

Abe: ... hmmm. I think he would probably be at the bottom of my list.


(ext. Blyde square. Positron.)

Positron: He really is a force of nature. That's what he is. He rushes into combat selflessly and then, heroically, walks out unscathed. If there is one hero I can really call 'brother', it'd have to be Iron Man.

AnchorMan: But this is about Ironycon.

Positron: Ironycon?.. aww, I hate that guy.


(int. A comedy lounge.)

AnchorMan Narration: It was here at the "Laugh Out" that Ironycon, or Mr Ironic as he was known then, made his pre-super hero presence known.

(Earl Crawley. Club owner)
Earl: Mr Ironic started here in the seventies. He was new to comedy then. Before working for me I think he did some Andy Warhol films or something.

AnchorMan: To you, what was most memorable about Ironycon?

Earl: Well, for starters, he really wasn't all that funny. Ya know, I don't think he could tell a joke to save his life.

Anchorman: But you employed him at your comedy club?

Earl: He had a following, don't get me wrong. He kept the place full for a number of years. But, ya see, most comedians seem to know the difference between the audiance laughing with them and the audiance laughing at them. I don't think he did. In fact, I don't think there had been such an idiotic act since Wesley Willis.

Anchorman: Surely you're exagerating. I mean, worse than Wesley Willis?

Earl: I wish I was.. I wish was..


AnchorMan Narration: As the seventies waned into the early eighties the comedy market became saturated with younger, brighter comics of a new generation. And Mr Ironic's eccentric, often times misunderstood humor, failed to have a market.


(int. restaurant. average man at table)
(Paul Helsk. Retired comedian)
Paul: Mr Ironic and I were actually fired on the same day from seperate clubs. Which was a huge blow to my self esteem.

AnchorMan: Why is that?

Paul: Why? Because I was funny. He was... he was Mr Ironic!

AnchorMan: That makes sense.


(int. Business office. Chic man at desk. Entertainment posters on the walls.)

(Torrence Longist. Mr Ironic/Ironycon's agent)
Torrence: Ironycon has to be my highest maintenence client as well as my lowest revenue client. His ability to fail in any given situation and then claim success, is really quite amazing. In my opinion, he is the most positive pessimist I have ever met. Especially after the.. uh, accident.

AnchorMan: You are referring to the accident that gave him his powers?

Torrence: That's the one!

AnchorMan: Tell me about the accident.

Torrence: Well, it was only a few months after he was canned from the "Laugh Out". He was trying a number of professions around town. I think he was looking for his niche. He applied to be a zebra at the zoo. Then to be a bus driver even though he had no license. Then, of all things, he wanted to be a big-game hunter.

AnchorMan: Like, with an elephant gun and--

Torrence: Yeah, and the khaki shorts and the dumb hat. Unfortunatley, there isn't much of a market for them in Paragon city. So that idea went down as well

AnchorMan: Was it around this time that he had the accident?

Torrence: Yes, and that is when the feces really hit the oscillating cooling device.


AnchorMan Narration: When we return: the death of Mr Ironic and the birth of Ironycon!... And now a word from our sponsors.




(Two men in the smoking section of a restaurant. Nick lights a cigarette)

John: --and so, all I'm saying is if Al Roker were a woman, he'd be a pretty sexy chick!

Nick: John, aren't you going to light up?

John: No, Nick, I quit.

Nick: But you don't have a patch on your arm and your not chewing that horrible gum.

John: No, I found a better way.

Nick: You mean--

John: That's right! The Nicotory Supository!

Narration: You've tried the patch but there just aren't enough patches for your cravings. You've tried the gum and went comatose. You tried cold turkey and even the dog was scared. Why put your faith in a heartless and cruel medical science When there's a better way!

John: You see, each Nicotory Suppository is hand made by bhudist monks with only the finest Bolivian dewlap and then consecrated by our lord and savior Jesus Christ. Get smart, get the Nicotory Supository!

Nick: You're right John, I don't need these cancer sticks anymore!

John: Here, take mine.

(hands Nick his supository. Nick takes it, hesitantly.)

Narration: Warning: Nicotory Supository has been known to cause heart disease, anal leakage, right handedness, left handedness, uh-uh apropopitis, alien attacks, leprosy to your uncle Bob, and an overpowering urge to smoke cigarettes.

Nicaaaaatooooory!!!!!


[[Ok, now I have to go back to work. I hope this was entertaining and I'll get on part two tomorow or the next day]

A Perfect Circle-"The Outsider"

"Standing outside the fire" by Garth Brooks

Name: Epsilon Alpha
Motto: "For god and country, We shall prevail."
Leader: Blarney (merely for administrative purposes, this is a guild of equals.)
Player Type: All Comers. RP Only guild. Must submit backstory for acceptance.
Number of members: (pending)
Current member levels: All Comers
Normal time of Gameplay: Varies, will organize this at a later date.
Other information: (Epsilon Alpha is designed to enhance the gameplay experience for those of us who feel this game could benefit from playing with creative, well thought-out characters who are interested in an RP experience. If interested, please email us at our temp. email address. J_Mack_Test@hotmail.com )

Super Group back story:

Epsilon Alpha was founded by the United Nations in October of 2000, following the formation of the Special Council on Super Human Activites (SCSHA). While the SCSHA's mission was to monitor and police potential super-human threats around the globe, Epsilon Alpha was intended to serve as a relief orginization, with an emphasis on minimizing the long term effects of super-human crime at the community level. Tasked with rebuilding areas damaged or otherwise affected by super criminals, educating residents about the nature of super-abled crime, and training local government agencies to respond efficiently and effectively to any of the tell tale signs of super human crime, Epsilon Alpha was met with a lukewarm response from both the public and the international community.

Overshadowed by high profile groups like Hero Corps and the Vanguard, Epsilon Alpha was viewed as a drain on the budgetary resources of the United Nations. In August of 2001, following an incident in the former soviet republic of Khazakistan, in which a former soviet agent with ties to the DOTM (Defenders of the Motherland), had entered an area where members of Epsilon Alpha were rebuilding the local railroad system, which had been destroyed the previous summer during an operation sponsored by Hero Corps. This agent, calling himself the Iron Tiger, lead a brutal guerilla campaign against the team, bombing houses of worship and marketplaces, assasinating local government officials, and sabotaging and destroying hundreds of miles of railroad in an effort to cut off aid supplies to the impovershed area. A group of four Epsilon Alpha members, lead by Captain Shamrock, tracked the Iron Tiger to one of his many safehouses, a warehouse on the outskirts of Astana. In a complete breach of protocol, Captain Shamrock and Co. stormed the safehouse without first contacting the rest of the members in the region. the ensuing battle raged over the course of an hour, with the Iron Tiger and his minions mounting a steadfast and desperate defense of thier lair. Just as the Epsilon Alpha team had defeated or incapacitated the last of the Iron Tiger's defenders, he turned his enormous energy manipulation powers on himself, creating an explosion that reduced everything to rubble and ash within a three mile radius, Epsilon Alpha members included. The following months lead to a long and emotional series of hearings before the United Nations Security Council, and the SCSHA, Epsilon Alpha was found responsible of violating United Nations guidelines and protocol, leading to the deaths of over 300 innocent citizens, and four Heroes. Epsilon Alpha was officially Decomissioned on December 3rd, 2001.

Following the Rikti invasion, with the worlds heroes either defeated, or busy combating the alien threat, The United Nations once again called on the former members of Epsilon Alpha to provide rear-line support for the defenders, and to aid in the rebuilding of the war-torn Paragon City. Epsilon Alpha was officially recomissioned on January 21st, 2003, and tasked with resuming the original directive of the group, as well as helping to cleanse the remaining Rikti threat from the city. However, the United Nations has made it clear that any further mistakes made by this team will not be taken lightly.

I do like this topic! It is a challenge to make something original. Now the funny part is that alot of people are while not blatantly ripping someone off (old twist on old idea) they are being creative! Perfect example, I like to let my 5 year old son make up new characters, he loves the process, and then I type in the story he tells me for the origin. He has not read comics, since he can barely read, and origins he comes up with are on no cartoon I know of him watching. He has almost completely "created" the origins of:
The Hulk (a bomb blew up and instead of getting hurt he got super strong)
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (super-slime or a potion turned them super, -many variations on this one)
Thor- (he was a God, and got bored of doing god stuff)
the list goes on.
Now being an avid fan of comics myself, and finding my own preferances, I try and create something that speaks to me, and yet takes on at the very least new twists.
e.g. my main hero Barbarosa
In a nutshell was a great hero, who was able to split himself, parts of him died (long story shorter) and he went nuts. A mutant tried to fix him, and he split into 8 people with fragments of the former. Barbarosa is 1 of the 8 peices and at least 2 of the other peices will be played by my friends. totally different looks and powers. I like heros who fight despite tragedy, who chose to be a servant of the people when they have no reason to be benevolent. Now I'm sure I've missed a comic that duplicates this, or it's too close to a "what if" of Multiple Man. But like my son, I've been creative, even if not original. (but this does not fit neatly in any of the orginal catagories)

Supergroup Name: Liberty Force

Website (if any): www.libertyforce.net

Leader or Recruiting Officers:
Maxum ( [Censored] )
Trip Wire ( [Censored] )
2 ( [Censored] )

Preferred Method of contact: You may contact us at our forums listed above, in-game, or via email.

Guild Description: Libery Force is interested in mature players looking to experience all CoH has to offer. We are a casual group, enjoying the game and each others company. We have a Ventrilo voice server which our members can use to talk live while playing the game if they choose.

Our guidelines:
Fun - The most important thing is to enjoy the game.

Respect – Each member will show his or her fellow members an equal amount of respect at all times. Nobody will be made to feel unwelcome or inferior due to level, archetype, play style, or play time.

Language – The group will not accept excessive inappropriate language, racial or religious slurs in Supergroup chat or on the forums.

Supergroup Forums - Active participation is highly encouraged. Some people enjoy posting more then others, just don't be invisible on these forums.

New Members – New members are required to go through a probationary period. You should participate as much as possible to make this process go more smoothly.

I made a "MMORPGese Dictionary" when I played AO. It has terms from several MMORPGs as well as generic tearms. I should start adding CoH terminology as well.

Here it is:
MMORPGese - English Dictionary

My attempt to prove myself wrong ... Tanda

I never wanted to be a hero. I just wanted to be a normal girl. I wanted to go to parties, school dances, out to dinner with my folks. I wanted to be a gymnast, go to college, maybe start a career, get married, picket fence, dog … you know the whole “American Dream” thing.

But it wasn’t meant to be. I was born different. Oh, the physical aspects are easy enough to see. Golden yellow skin, spots on my face, furry ears popping out the top of my head, a 3 foot tail behind me. There are other differences too, like the time I broke my arm and it healed before we got to the hospital, but those were enough.

I was born in a wealthy suburb of Paragon City. My folks were basically normal. Dad was the President of Paragon National Bank. Mom was head of the society girls (as I called them). Garden club, fund raisers, political parties, you name it, if it got written up in the paper, you can bet mom was on the board organizing it.

I was their first child. They were so proud. They learned early I’d be a girl. Mom was excited about having a little daughter to dress up, show off to her friends, bring up to learn the genteel ways of society living. You might imagine their dismay when I arrived.

Needless to say, mom’s idea of the “perfect girl” didn’t include cat ears and a tail. I heard it took her 2 weeks to get over the emotional breakdown and come home.

I don’t hate my mom. I kinda feel sorry for her, honestly. I suppose in her own way, she tried to cope as best she could. At first she tried to treat me normally. Dressed in pink dresses, bows in my hair, etc. But it was just too obvious I was different. The other girls didn’t like me. Their moms would stare when they thought she wasn’t looking. Eventually she stopped trying to take me along.

Then she started asking me to stay out of the way when her friends came over. Little things like “Play up in your room.” I don’t think she locked me in there. At least not very often. I didn’t try to come out much anyway. Not like I really wanted to be where I wasn’t wanted.

My dad was great. He used to spend time with me whenever he could. We’d go on trips together, play games, he’d buy me presents. When I got interested in gymnastics, he hired a private coach and built a small gym on some property we had in the country. He also hired a Karate instructor to teach me self-defense. He really did try. But even he had problems with my obvious differences. There were just times when, even though it obviously broke his heart, it was easier for him to leave me behind.

School was a living hell for me. I was an outcast even among the outcasts. Ok, I guess maybe that sounds too strong. I did have friends, but not many. And the ones I did have were too skittish about having a “different” friend to invite me to parties and stuff. I’d go to the school dances. I think I mentioned I was pretty limber; so I was a good dancer. The boys liked to have me at the dances. But I didn’t like some of the suggestions they had about what to do after the dance.

I tried out for the school gymnastic team. Well, technically, I went to the tryouts. I was warming up on the balance beam when the coach came over and pulled me aside. I guess the state sports authorities had passed a ban on mutants competing against “normal” kids. I think my dad held me all night that night as I cried myself to sleep.

I did well academically, and caught the interest of several colleges. Unfortunately that interest would dry up every time they met me. I was 18, approaching graduation, and no clear path on where my life would go next.

One night, a friend, Julie, and I were at a play in Galaxy City. When it was done, I left her near the theater to wait while I found us a cab. The gangs were getting out of hand in that sector, I knew it was dangerous, but figured it would just take me a minute. I heard her scream and turned back. A couple of Skulls were trying to grab her backpack from her.

I ran back, a couple of fast kicks and punches and the gang bangers figured they’d find easier pickings. Julie was really impressed and thanked me several times. I told her it was just the karate training my dad had paid for. She still kept talking about how heroic I’d been. I guess it was the word “hero” that caught the cop’s ear.

“Excuse me, miss,” he said all formal and polite like.

“Yea, officer?” I asked

“Can I see your registration ID?”

“ID? Sure.” I pulled out my driver’s license.

“No, miss. I mean your Hero Registration Card.”

I blushed deeply. “Oh. I don’t have one. I’m not a hero.”

“Well, miss, you did break up a crime just a minute ago. According to the city regulations, you need to be registered if you’re going to fight crime in Paragon City.”

“But I don’t want to fight crime,” I complained, getting a bit worried.

“Sure you don’t.” he replied obviously not believing me. “Will you come with me, please?”

I sighed and went along. I was processed through. I didn’t really understand what they were asking me. The guy at the desk asked me what name I wanted to use. I told him my name was “Tanda”. He just nodded and typed it in. All of a sudden I have this HRC with the name Tanda and my face on it.

Dad picked me up from the police station. During the drive home I told him everything that had happened. I wasn’t really mad or excited or anything. Mostly I was jut confused. He listened, smiled, and assured me that we’d work things out in the morning.

The next day, I was in the gym, doing my normal morning workout. He came in carrying a box and followed by some guy I’d never seen before.

“Tanda,” he called. “Come over here. We need to talk about a couple of things.”

I approached slowly, drying my face with a towel as I walked toward them. The guy with dad looked to be in his mid forties, physically fit, his hair was starting to go gray at the temples, his eyes were gray as well.

“Tanda, this is Loup de Quebec.” Dad said as he indicated the guy next to him.

“The Quebec Wolf?” I asked shaking his hand.

“Oui. Yes. That is the name I chose when I registered with the Paragon City officials.” He spoke with a heavy French accent and smiled softly as he took my hand in his. “My name is Pierre.”

“Nice to meet you, Pierre, I’m Tanda.”

“Yes, I know. Your father has told me much about you already.”

“Pierre is from the Hero Corps. He’s retired from active crime fighting and spends his time working with promising new heroes.” Dad explained, looking a little hesitantly at me.

“Oui. I try to make your adjustment from citizen to hero as easy as it can be.”

“But Dad!” I protested. “I don’t want to be a hero!”

“I know, sweetheart, but hear me out.” He led us over to the seating area in the corner of the gym. “You have some wonderful skills. Both your gymnastics and karate teachers are very impressed with you. I know life has been hard for you, but this might be a way for you to use what you can do to help others.”

I sighed. “Dad, I like the idea of helping people, but I don’t want to run around in spandex all day looking for trouble.”

“Zen don’t.” Pierre interjected. “There is no saying that you must wear a costume. I spent much of my career fighting crime just as you see me now.” I looked over the black t-shirt, blue jeans, and cowboy boots.

“Look. Honey.” Dad continued. “It doesn’t have to be forever. Pierre tells me that a lot of people get started down this path, decide it isn’t for them, find something else to do. But it would be something that you could do on your own. A way to use the abilities you have for something positive. And…” he looked at the floor and paused.

“And a way for me to meet some people that won’t look at me like some freak.” I finished for him.

“You are NOT a freak!” he said forcefully.

“Maybe.” I shrugged. “But I’m definitely different. You know, I didn’t ask to be this way. This is just how I am.”

“Yes.” Dad said softly. “I think its time you learn about that. Would you excuse me, Pierre?”

“Certainement.” He got up and walked out the door.

I looked at Dad questioningly.

He took a deep breath and began. “When your mother was pregnant with you, we had a housekeeper / cook from Jamaica called Marda. She was a pretty decent domestic servant. Did a good job with her duties. But your mother was really in a difficult stage. You know she can be difficult at the best of times.” I nodded and he smiled slightly. “Well, when she was pregnant it was much worse.”

“She didn’t seem to be able to control her mood swings. At times she was sweet and docile, other times she was hostile and cruel. And, more often than not, Marda was the object of her wrath.

“There was a week when several things seemed to go wrong. Your mother was constantly berating Marda about one thing after another. Finally, she snapped completely and struck her. Now, your mom knew she was wrong immediately and apologized for it, but I think the deal was done then. Two days later Marda disappeared from the house without a trace.

“About a week later, we round the totem.” Dad grimaced with the memory. “Marda had used Caramel, our housecat to create some sort of curse totem. She hid it under your mother’s side of the bed. There were other things about it, but I don’t want to remember those. We consulted with the university and found that it was some form of voodoo curse. Three months later, you were born.

I looked at my dad in shock. I couldn’t believe that the person I was came about because of some sort of “curse” from a witch doctor.

“So, maybe now you understand a little more about your mom and how she acted toward you. You were a reminder every day of how she’d lost control of herself and brought all of this on you.

I heard a soft sound to my right. I turned and saw my mother standing in the doorway, tears running down her face. I got up and ran to her. “Oh mom!” I cried, throwing my arms around her and hugging her tightly. We stood there for a while, sharing tears and sobs and feeling closer than I ever had to her in my life.

I took mom back to the couches and dad brought Pierre back into the building. “So, Dad,” I asked “what’s in the box?”

“Ah. Well. Why don’t we let Pierre show you?”

Pierre took a pair of red gloves from the box. They were long, almost to my elbow and left my fingers uncovered. A couple pulls on the wraps and they were tight on my arms. I didn’t like how I couldn’t bend my wrist, but Pierre said it was necessary.

“Now,” Pierre said, “Let’s step over here.” I followed him away from my parents.

“Make a fist with both hands,” he said. As I did, I could feel the gloves tighten slightly.

“Now snap your arms down and away from your body.”

As I swung my hands down, three silver metal blades slid out, extending over my hands and locked into place. I looked at them in amazement, then looked at Pierre, then my parents.

My mom smiled thinly and said “A cat must have her claws, right?”

I laughed and looked back to Pierre as he said, “Claws are my special ability as well.” Spreading his fingers wide, the nails on his fingers grew three inches, thick, yellowish and hooked. “Mine are naturale, though. I will teach you how to use your new weapons and then we shall see about letting you loose on the denizens of Paragon City.”

Name: The Guardian Knights
Motto: "Bringing Justice and neverending vigilance to the citizens of Paragon City"
Leaders: Omega Flare/BlueStrike/Pen/ThunderBird/Zyebra
Player Type: Casual to power player
Number of Members: 60+
Current Member lvls: 8-25
GamePlay Times: 24/7
Other Info: Tired of jumping from SG to SG with no place to call home? Tired of being in a small SG with no one to group with? If so we have a home for you.

Hero Name: Barbarosa
Game Times: Commonly Tue,Thur,Fri 9pm-12am Sun varies
RP-lite (like to interact, and be "in character")
Formerly: The Clone
Real Name: Marvin O. Parker
: Good Omens

Previous Known Endorsement: Xerox, (Model: Clone3500XL)
Slogan: “You’re never alone with a Clone!” (Pictured two of him holding a picture of the 2 of them repeating inward)

Current Endorsements: DocMartin Boots “The Doc makes a man feel invincible!” (Pictures him climbing a mountain-side amidst an avalanche)
-This endorsement may be dropped due to target consumers not catching the reference.

Powers:
Largely unknown: He has exhibited feats of incredible strength and resiliency. Seems unwilling to discuss other possible powers, especially in relation to powers possessed by his former self The Clone.

Personal File:
Barbarosa is one of eight of the splintered personalities of the former legend The Clone. This tale carries a hard lesson for all who don the mantle of Hero.

The Clone was a vastly powerful Hero who had many powers including flight, powerful gamma beams, super resilient, super Strength, and addition to many other powers his namesake was his power to split himself into duplicates, though a price was paid, each division diminished the individual powers, and all duplicates shared a psychically connected mind. The Clone never duplicated himself to more than 16 copies since he began to lose coordination, and became vulnerable to mundane harm (bullets, knifes, small explosives). He was loved by all, and a standard other heroes tried to live up to. He took a non-Hero wife, much to the surprise of the public. His wife Samantha, had a baby boy name Michael Parker almost a year after the wedding.

Eight Years Later… Shortly before the Alien Invasion of Earth, an evil mastermind by the name of Asmodeus began a reign of terror on Paragon City. He began targeting the friends and loved ones of the heroes, implementing vastly complex plots and amazingly complex devices of destruction. The Heroes of Paragon City quickly came together to crush this new brand of Evil, but not before his most nefarious deed, the breaking of The Clone. Asmodeus began by sending a transmission to The Clone warning him of tragedies that would be happening at opposite ends of the city, exactly three originally. This was enough to exert himself, but not dire enough to call for help. There was a school bus teetering on an overhang, a terrorist with guns on a building top, and a subway trapped under a collapsed tunnel. Upon arriving at each, he discovered held a note “Greeting Super-Moron! In 5 minutes a nerve gas will be released in the Police Dept, Fire Dept, and all three Hospitals, any attempts to call them or further help, will trigger all the devices. Who will you save?” He was forced to divide five more times, still manageable but with all the excitement, he didn’t see the pattern forming.

The Gas devices were easily found and dealt with but they each also held a message, “I have your son and wife. I am waiting for you at one of the following three addresses, if you don’t arrive in 10 minutes, I will dispose of your dear family”. Each one held different addresses…

About this time the first three plights complicated, the School bus as it was pulled back from the ledge, grew eight mechanic arms wrapping around the school bus, each with a keyboard attached, it began to crush the bus, and a message flashing on the screens let him know that typing “you are never alone with a clone.” On each keyboard would stop that arm from constricting for three seconds.

Four Power-Armored villains, using mounted Laser Cannons, pinning down the police, joined the Terrorist.

In the collapsed subway, two trains were remotely routed on a collision course with the trapped subway car.

Unable to think clearly, stressed vastly beyond his abilities and now little more than an average man, thirty selves of The Clone raced against ticking clocks. What happened next is one of the darkest memories of Paragon City… As fifteen Clones reached fifteen rather nondescript locations, a room was found in every one, seemingly blank except for fifteen lone chairs with fifteen phones sitting on it, ringing.

Now remember, The Clone was in fifteen different rooms, typing “you are never alone with a clone” eight times simultaneously, helping children out of a slowly crushing bus, dragging cops away from a fire zone, shutting down two subways while frantically digging out passengers… It took all his effort to bring himself forward and pick up that phone, fifteen times all at once, he never even saw the C4 under the chair of fourteen of them. All at once a barely empty school bus was crushed into a ball, he received several near fatal laser blasts, two trains rolled slowly to a stop yards short of the trapped subway, but mostly…. he was engulfed in fourteen fatal explosions as he heard his wife say “Hello? Who’s there?” Out of the shadows stepped Asmodeus, grinning wickedly. “I never had your wife, or your child, they were too well protected, but I wasn’t about to let a little thing like that stop me from tearing apart Hero City’s beloved redundant hero The Clone”. Then he simply turned, and walked away.

The Clone slowly set down the receiver; his wife’s voice ringing in is head “Hello?? Is anybody there? This isn’t funny!” and gave in to blackness…


Months later in a psychiatric hospital for Super Criminals (the only facility capable of containing, him for his own safety) after finally combining all the remaining personas of The Clone, he was diagnosed with a severe mental break down, including: Paranoid, Schizoid, Antisocial, Borderline, Avoidant, Dependant and Obsessive-Compulsive Personality Disorders. This overall dementia was undocumented and considered impossible for a normal human to contract, it was as if each individual part of him reacted differently to the trauma, and was forced back together before it could resolve itself. Desperate to restore the fallen hero, he was given frightening levels of sedatives, experimental psychotropic drugs, and countless direct therapy attempts.

It was not until years later long after the incarceration of Asmodeus and the Alien Invasion of Paragon City was routed, a psychic hero simply known as The SuperEgo, visited The clone and attempted to put back together the fragmented mind. What he found was after the years of drugs and isolation he minded had completely fragmented into eight new personas, a deep-seated multiple personality disorder. The personas were fighting for control, and he imposed his will to divide them, intending to speak with them separately and find a common ground to merge back together with. They separated alright, but the result was unexpected, they separated mentally and physically, seemingly activated his division power, and eight whole versions of the man emerged, his powers shattered, each one possessed only one or two of his previous powers (whether this is a physical limitation or psychological one has not be determined.) Each one was fully independent and reacted violently to the prospect of remerging. They quickly united towards their common goal to escape, overpowered the SuperEgo and broke free of the visitation room they were using. Three versions of the Clone remained behind completely unable to function properly, two more were quickly rounded up still exhibiting severe mental dementia. It is the last three that were truly unique:

v Korbin Luther Markus (Chupacabra), a bitter man with a good heart, possessing a decent portion of powers, and was able to convince the city he was not a threat as long as no one tried to force him to remerge with his “brothers”.
v Lexius Morbin Octave (Void), a criminally insane monster, could only be described as the Clones dark side. Luckily since his escape no one has seen or heard from this beast whom was unjustly given a fair portion of the original Clones powers.
v Marvin Oscar Parker (Barbarosa), Most consider him the heart of the original clone, but he becomes very withdrawn at mention of his previous self. He has taken up the reigns of a Hero again, and is thought to be a greater hero than before, because despite what he has endured he has chosen to be a servant of others.

In recent news two of the personas previously residents of the Sanitarium were released, marked as fully recovered, though neither appears to have kept any of the powers associated with their former life. Anthony Brandon Calgary plans on joining professional wrestling, while Brandon Dalamar Chance, wishes to be left to a normal life.

Gravity Kills "Goodbye"