Jason Tribal was having a bad day. He had just been laid off from the only job he could find, due to the fact he had dropped out of college. His girlfriend had broken up with him, his father had disowned him, and he couldn't figure out how to get his damn microwave door to stay shut. He was stressed and tired. So he decided to surf the web. He had just double clicked on the icon, trying to get into Yahoo, when suddenly, he was diverted to an irratating and annoying pop-up ad. He groaned, and moved to delete it, when he noticed that the pop-up ad didn't have a * symbol, meaning the offer on it was probably genuine. So he took the time to read it...
Does your life completely suck? Was the first question the ad presented.
"Why, yes, it does..." Tribal thought.
Do you wish you had amounted to something better? Was next.
"Don't we all?" Thought Tribal.
Were you just laid off, dumped by your girlfriend, disowned by your father, and is your name Jason Tribal?
He stared at that one. Suddenly he payed a bit more attention to the ad.
Well don't you worry, because our job is to look after you! Our goal is to LITERALLY whip you [censored] into shap, get you a job, a life, and then make you into someone IMPORTANT!
"Ok...This is either a personal joke, or I am about to be screwed over." Thought Tribal. He was right for the first time in several weeks.
Suddenly, his door literally exploded, and a Fedex package was tossed into the room. Then there was a small "pop!" and everything was normal again.
Later that evening, Tribal sat on his bed, staring at the Fedex package. It said, "To: Mr. Jason C. Tribal, From: Husk Corperation." He bit his lip, deciding whether to open it or not. Then, finally deciding that dying due to a letter bomb would be a relief, he opened the package. He blinked. Inside the package was a flat, black disk with a little round red gem in the center. Suddenly, the gem projected the words, "Dimensional Shift Initialized in 5..." into the air. It was a hologram machine. Tribal looked at the message.
...4...
Ho-
...3...
ly-
...2...
Sh-
...1...
it...
...Dimensional Shift Initialized, have a horrible day filled with pain and agony.
There was a small "pop!" and all was normal again. Except that Jason Tribal and the little disk were gone.
"Rise and shine Mr. Tribal." Said a cheerful voice. "Nice..." Thought Tribal. "Finally I meet someone who sounds nice..." He opened his eyes. He observed the giant spoon shapped platform he was laying on. He then felt the lurch in his gut as the platform lurched forward. He screamed as he flew through the air. His scream was cut off as he smashed into a wall over a hundred feet away. He groaned as he slid down the wall. He screamed again when he landed in a pit filled with barbed wire. "Tsk tsk..." said the mysterious man. He was tall, his head completely shaved, with pale skin. He wore sunglasses, a buisness suit, and a trenchcoat over that. He had a plain bandana covering his entire lower face. He wore a utility belt with twin .13 mm Uzis strapped into it. "They ALWAYS miss the sign.." He glanced over at the sign posted on a wall nearby.
WELCOME TO HUSK CORPERATION. YOU WILL NOW BE PROCESSED. YOU HAVE APROXIMATELY THREE SECONDS TO GET OFF OF THE STRESS IMPACT PLATFORM BEFORE YOU ARE LAUNCHED INTO A WORLD FILLED WITH AGONY. HAVE A HORRIBLE DAY.
"I never did see how they could possibly miss it..." The man shook his head. "Hey, Nomed, get him out of that pit and put him back on the platform..."
"Rise and Shine Mr. Tribal." Said a cheerful voice. "Where have I heard that voice before, and why do I feel like my skin has been flayed off?" Thought Tribal as he groggily opened his eyes. He had just enough time to notice a sign with a message on it before the stress impact platform launched him into a world filled with agony.
"Rise and Shine Mr. Tribal." Said a cheerful voice. "Oh god. Not again." Tribal thought. He pried his eyes open and looked at the sign. He read about a third of the message before he was launched into a world filled with agony...
Exactly ten hours later, Tribal finally rolled off the stress impact platform before it lurched forward for the 167th time. Or, more accurately, he slid off the table with his blood reducing the friction on the table enough for him to slide off. Once he had peiced together the message on the sign, he had been too weak to get off the platform.
The mysterious man frowned beneath his bandana mask. "Hmmm...Most people go through that two hundred times before that happens...should we clean the platform and do it until he reaches two hundred?" "Nah." Said a rough voice." I'm getting tired of going back and forth between the pit and here." The mystery man shrugged. "Fine then. Let's take him to the nullifier."
Jason Tribal was only slightly aware that he was being dragged somewhere. The majority of his being was in too much pain to care.
Tribal finally regained enough sense to realize he was floating in a beam of soft green light. "Ah, Mr. Tribal, you are awake!" Said the mysterious man. Tribal blinked. "My name is Mr. Kuro, and I will be your instructor! Welcome to Husk Corp!" Tribal blinked again. "Sorry about that whole WHIZ, SMASH, RIP! Deal back at the processing room, but its standard procedure you know. You actually got out of it early." The man shrugged. "Anyways, now we will be numbing your pain receptors so that we can employ you. Relax, and please remember, that there is no shame is screaming." The man conjured a little remote from out of his utility belt, and pressed a button. The soft green beam of light Tribal was floating in turned red. His world was pain. "I'll come back in a few days." Mr. Kuro said in a jovial tone. "Please remember that this is all temporary." The man winked, then with a small "pop!" he vanished into thin air.
Jason Tribal felt pain. Not pain that you would feel everyday. This pain was greater then the pain one would feel if you were shot. Worse then if you were hit by an anti-matter beam. Even more painful then the whole Impact Stress Platform that Tribal had been subjected to a while back. This was pure, uncensored PAIN. The worst part was that he wouldn't die. He stayed like that for three days.
With a sudden "pop!" Mr. Kuro appeared from nowhere. "And how is our camper today?" He asked in a happy sing-song tone. Tribal just stared at him. He was beyond screaming by now. His entire body shook and jerked. "Progressing well I see...well then, it is now time to switch modes!" He pulled the remote out of his utility belt, and hit a button. The beam of light Tribal was floating in changed from bright red to soft blue. His world was joy. "I think I'll leave you like that for a few hours..." Mr. Kuro said. "See you then." With a small "pop!" he vanished into thin air.
Jason Tribal's world was joy. He just felt good. It was better then hearing your favorite song, better then eating your favorite food, better then having sex, it was pure uncensored joy. It was wonderful.
With a small "pop!" Mr. Kuro appeared from nowhere. "Time's up camper." He said. He pulled out the remote, winked, then pressed a button. The beam that tribal was floating in changed from soft blue to bright red...
And so it went on and on. Every three days, Mr. Kuro would come and change the beam to blue. Then about five hours later, he would come and change it back to red. It was sheer torture. Jason Tribal floated in the beam of light for about a year.
With a small "pop!" Mr. Kuro appeared from nowhere. Guess what Mr. Tribal?" He said cheerfully. Tribal was currently floating in the light blue beam. He screamed, as he had done every time Mr. Kuro came by, and struggled to get free of the invisible force holding him in place. "We're letting you out now! The system says you can no longer feel pain!" Mr. Kuro took out the remote, and pressed a button. The beam of light dissapeared entirely. Tribal flopped gently onto the floor. He looked around. For once his vision was unimpared by the beam of light, which had restricted his line of sight to just a few feet beyond his prison. He was in a perfectly cubed room, made of a calming tan color. There were no doors, windows, opr features of any kind in the room. Since he had just exited the blue beam, he had most of his sense about him, so he decided to ask a few questions...
Mr. Kuro looked at the readouts in his sunglasses. The probability engine predicted that there was a 97.68% chance of Tribal saying...
Tribal finally spoke. "WHAT. THE. [censored]. WAS. THAT?"
"THAT." Mr. Kuro said. "Was your preperation for your training and acceptance into Husk Corp!" Tribal blinked.
Mr. Kuro looked at the readouts in his glasses again. The Probabilty engine said that there was a 99.99% chance of Tribal saying...
"[censored] [censored] [censored] YOU [censored] [censored] FREAK [censored] [censored] [censored] KILL [censored] [censored] DIE [censored] [censored] [censored] [censored] YOU [censored] [censored] GAAAAAAAAH!!!" Tribal then launched himself at Mr. Kuro.
Mr. Kuro just caught Tribal in his arms, and flipped a switch on his utility belt. With a small "pop!" Both of them were gone.
With a small "pop!" Mr. Kuro and Tribal both appeared out of thin air. They were in what appeared to be a large, grey room, with beds, storage lockers, some tables, a television screen which filled up one of the entire walls, a few comfy looking black leather couches and chairs, and several doors leading to the unknown. Tribal was foaming at the mouth, he imediatly turned to Mr. Kuro and tried to attack him again. Mr. Kuro raised his hand. "Woah there Mr. Tribal. Try that again and next time I will dump you into a furnace." Mr. Tribal paused. "Now sit down on one of these [censored] comfy couches, and watch some television. You may find it enlightening." Mr. Kuro winked. With a small "pop!" he was gone.
Jason Tribal was very confused and angry. However, he knew perfectly well his enemy appeared to be much more dangerous and powerful then him, so he decided to play along for now. He sat down in the chair, and discovered that it actually was [censored] comfy. He looked at the tv which covered one of the entire walls. It automaticly turned on, and almost instantly, two words appeared, in silver text, and flashed across the screen.
HUSK CORPERATION.
The words faded away. Very soon, nine figures appeared on the screen. Three figures stood to the left, two of them wore identical gray leather jackets, bandanas around their heads and faces, and wore sunglasses. The third of the group only wore a bandana around his head, and had yellow goggles covering his eyes. He was wearing a grey vest over a red shirt, he had heavy black leather gloves on his hands, but the most noteable feature were the sacks of TNT and Dynamite he was carrying. Another three figures stood to the right. Tribal recognized one of them as Mr. Kuro. The second one was almost completely identical to Mr. Kuro, except that he had hair which was gathered into a pony tail. Then there was a hulking, brutish figure, who wore a single bandana around his head, ha dsunglasses, and wore no shirt. He entire torso was covered by tatoos. He had black black gloves covered in spiked chains, and more chains wrapped around his body. He wore a utility belt with spiked points on it. In the center of the screen were two figures. Standing slightly to the right was a hulking man, wearing medival armor covered with strange red runes and symbols. He wore a hood over his face, and red energy crackled and sputtered about him. Then, finally, in the dead center of the screen, stood THE man. He was wearing a black duster hat, twin red tinted monocles, and had a reaper styled cloth peice concealing his entire face, and most of his upper body. He wore a great big buisness jacket with several pockets on it, and beneath was a leather suit with buckles, stiches, and straps. He had clawed hands, which were clad in medival armor, and eteched in bloodred runes. He wore a built, made of a shiney black metal, and in the front there was a single fanged human skull, which was black, and its eyes glowed red. He wore large cargo pants, and down the sides ran pointed and spikey mystical symbols. Descending from his back were two shredded and cut up scarf ends, lookinging like ragged devil wings. Barely noticable, was a diamond shapped, blood red brooch on his right collar. A dark red aura was visible around him, making it feel as though he barely contained enormous power.
He spoke first.
"Mr. Tribal." He said, adressing Tribal. "My name is not important to you yet, so I will not reveal it. However, I feel you should know the names of those you will be working with. That there..." He pointed to the hulking monstrosity by Mr. Kuro. "Is Mr. Nomed. His specialty is brute force, and he is quite literally and metaphorically a tank. Next is Mr. Kuro." He pointed to Mr. Kuro, who waved. "You have already met him. He is the leader of my small collection of...Eh...Specialists." Everyone on screen except for the man in armor and the man in the center laughed. After the laughter died down, the man in the center continued by saying, "The man next to him is Mr. White, Mr. Kuros cousin. He is our weapons expert." The man then pointed to the group to the left of the screen. Then he frowned. "Wait, what is that one doing?" He gestured at one of the thugs. "He's not supposed to be there..." He waved his hand, and one of the two identical thugs vanished. "Anyway. The one with all the explosives is Mr. Poe. He is our demolitions expert, and he is quite handy with improvised munitions. He and Mr. White design most of the weaponry we use." Mr. Poe waved and cackled with a voice that sounded like popping rice krispy treats. "That there next to him is Mr. Walker. He's a crackshot with pistols, and is an excelent computer hacker." Mr. Walker gave a mock salute. "Last, is my companion here." The man said gesturing to the man in armor. "You personally know him as Lord H'taed, although to us, he is just H'tead." Lord H'tead inclined his head slightly. Tribal knew all about Lord H'tead. He was number three on Freedom Corps most wanted list, just below Lord Recluse and the mysterious Public Enemy number one. Tribal began to have serious doubts about his health in the near future if he was going to be working with Lord H'tead. "That is all for today, I am afraid." Said the man in the middle of the screen. "Get some rest, tomorrow, these fine gentlemen will come by, bring you up to speed, equip you, then you'll go on your first journey.
Tribal, or Mr. Tribal as everyone in the group called him, decided that he had finally reached a high point in life. Once Mr. Kuro explained he had gone through the huge torture process so that he would no longer be able to feel pain, and that Husk Corperation was a "gang" of sorts, and they stole over a trillion U.S. dollars a year, Mr. Tribal decided to become an official member of Husk Corperation.
"We're going to pair you with Mr. Walker." Mr. Kuro said. "You'll learn how to fire a gun, and since we are currently lacking a diplomacy expert, we'll teach you that." Mr. Tribal was then given two .57 Desert Eagle Magnums, and given a quick course on how to use them by Mr. Walker. Even though the training session only lasted an hour, Mr. Tribal soon discovered that his aim was exceptional, and he was hitting bulls-eyes from over three hundred feet away. He was given standard Husk Corp. equipment, includeing a self teleporter, sunglasses which doubled as computers and analizers, and of course a brain transplant with a microchip, which allowed him to contact anyone at the group at any time, along with having several other handy features. Then, using a specialized computer program made just for the job, in under an hour, Mr. Tribal was a Grade A diplomat who could put U.N. speakers to shame. Finally, Lord H'tead decided Mr. Tribal was ready for his first outing with the group...
(Atlas Park, City Hall, 1:00 P.M.)
There was a soft "pop!" and suddenly, eight people appeared out of nowhere and started shooting, burning, destroying, and killing anything they saw. Mr. Walker and Tribal shot people over five hundred meters away, and disabled police drones from extreme range. Mr. Poe set fire to several bushes, and planted explosives at the base of the Atlas statue. Mr. White and Mr. Kuro hosed down all nearby heroes with a never ending spary of bullets, obscureing the view of everything that tried to look through the constant storm of bullets. Mr. Nomed ran and smashed down the doors to city hall, and violence was heard from within. Lord H'tead conjured electrical energies to do his will, and turned the entire area around the atlas statue into a static storm of malevolent energies, electrocuting anybody who got too near, while leaving the group of villains unharmed. Suddenly, there was a liud BOOM, and Lord H'tead was thrown against one of the city hall's pillars. Mrs. Liberty pulled back her leg from the roundhouse kick she had performed, and she charged the group of villains.
MUCH later, after long bouts of swearing, shooting wildly, punching, kicking, and biting, Mr. Nomed emerged from city hall with a giant briefcase. "TIME TO GO!" He shouted. He grabbed a broken chunk of pillar from the ground, and lobbed it at Mrs. Liberty. It stunned her for just long enough so that everyone in the group could teleport away with what they had stolen.
To be continued.
In the next issue, Mr. Tribal will have some serious thoughts about leaving Husk Corperation, but dsicovers that it may be impossible...
Jason Tribal was having a bad day. He had just been laid off from the only job he could find, due to the fact he had dropped out of college. His girlfriend had broken up with him, his father had disowned him, and he couldn't figure out how to get his damn microwave door to stay shut. He was stressed and tired. So he decided to surf the web. He had just double clicked on the icon, trying to get into Yahoo, when suddenly, he was diverted to an irratating and annoying pop-up ad. He groaned, and moved to delete it, when he noticed that the pop-up ad didn't have a * symbol, meaning the offer on it was probably genuine. So he took the time to read it...
Does your life completely suck? Was the first question the ad presented.
"Why, yes, it does..." Tribal thought.
Do you wish you had amounted to something better? Was next.
"Don't we all?" Thought Tribal.
Were you just laid off, dumped by your girlfriend, disowned by your father, and is your name Jason Tribal?
He stared at that one. Suddenly he payed a bit more attention to the ad.
Well don't you worry, because our job is to look after you! Our goal is to LITERALLY whip you [censored] into shap, get you a job, a life, and then make you into someone IMPORTANT!
"Ok...This is either a personal joke, or I am about to be screwed over." Thought Tribal. He was right for the first time in several weeks.
Suddenly, his door literally exploded, and a Fedex package was tossed into the room. Then there was a small "pop!" and everything was normal again.
Later that evening, Tribal sat on his bed, staring at the Fedex package. It said, "To: Mr. Jason C. Tribal, From: Husk Corperation." He bit his lip, deciding whether to open it or not. Then, finally deciding that dying due to a letter bomb would be a relief, he opened the package. He blinked. Inside the package was a flat, black disk with a little round red gem in the center. Suddenly, the gem projected the words, "Dimensional Shift Initialized in 5..." into the air. It was a hologram machine. Tribal looked at the message.
...4...
Ho-
...3...
ly-
...2...
Sh-
...1...
it...
...Dimensional Shift Initialized, have a horrible day filled with pain and agony.
There was a small "pop!" and all was normal again. Except that Jason Tribal and the little disk were gone.
"Rise and shine Mr. Tribal." Said a cheerful voice. "Nice..." Thought Tribal. "Finally I meet someone who sounds nice..." He opened his eyes. He observed the giant spoon shapped platform he was laying on. He then felt the lurch in his gut as the platform lurched forward. He screamed as he flew through the air. His scream was cut off as he smashed into a wall over a hundred feet away. He groaned as he slid down the wall. He screamed again when he landed in a pit filled with barbed wire. "Tsk tsk..." said the mysterious man. He was tall, his head completely shaved, with pale skin. He wore sunglasses, a buisness suit, and a trenchcoat over that. He had a plain bandana covering his entire lower face. He wore a utility belt with twin .13 mm Uzis strapped into it. "They ALWAYS miss the sign.." He glanced over at the sign posted on a wall nearby.
WELCOME TO HUSK CORPERATION. YOU WILL NOW BE PROCESSED. YOU HAVE APROXIMATELY THREE SECONDS TO GET OFF OF THE STRESS IMPACT PLATFORM BEFORE YOU ARE LAUNCHED INTO A WORLD FILLED WITH AGONY. HAVE A HORRIBLE DAY.
"I never did see how they could possibly miss it..." The man shook his head. "Hey, Nomed, get him out of that pit and put him back on the platform..."
"Rise and Shine Mr. Tribal." Said a cheerful voice. "Where have I heard that voice before, and why do I feel like my skin has been flayed off?" Thought Tribal as he groggily opened his eyes. He had just enough time to notice a sign with a message on it before the stress impact platform launched him into a world filled with agony.
"Rise and Shine Mr. Tribal." Said a cheerful voice. "Oh god. Not again." Tribal thought. He pried his eyes open and looked at the sign. He read about a third of the message before he was launched into a world filled with agony...
Exactly ten hours later, Tribal finally rolled off the stress impact platform before it lurched forward for the 167th time. Or, more accurately, he slid off the table with his blood reducing the friction on the table enough for him to slide off. Once he had peiced together the message on the sign, he had been too weak to get off the platform.
The mysterious man frowned beneath his bandana mask. "Hmmm...Most people go through that two hundred times before that happens...should we clean the platform and do it until he reaches two hundred?" "Nah." Said a rough voice." I'm getting tired of going back and forth between the pit and here." The mystery man shrugged. "Fine then. Let's take him to the nullifier."
Jason Tribal was only slightly aware that he was being dragged somewhere. The majority of his being was in too much pain to care.
Tribal finally regained enough sense to realize he was floating in a beam of soft green light. "Ah, Mr. Tribal, you are awake!" Said the mysterious man. Tribal blinked. "My name is Mr. Kuro, and I will be your instructor! Welcome to Husk Corp!" Tribal blinked again. "Sorry about that whole WHIZ, SMASH, RIP! Deal back at the processing room, but its standard procedure you know. You actually got out of it early." The man shrugged. "Anyways, now we will be numbing your pain receptors so that we can employ you. Relax, and please remember, that there is no shame is screaming." The man conjured a little remote from out of his utility belt, and pressed a button. The soft green beam of light Tribal was floating in turned red. His world was pain. "I'll come back in a few days." Mr. Kuro said in a jovial tone. "Please remember that this is all temporary." The man winked, then with a small "pop!" he vanished into thin air.
Jason Tribal felt pain. Not pain that you would feel everyday. This pain was greater then the pain one would feel if you were shot. Worse then if you were hit by an anti-matter beam. Even more painful then the whole Impact Stress Platform that Tribal had been subjected to a while back. This was pure, uncensored PAIN. The worst part was that he wouldn't die. He stayed like that for three days.
With a sudden "pop!" Mr. Kuro appeared from nowhere. "And how is our camper today?" He asked in a happy sing-song tone. Tribal just stared at him. He was beyond screaming by now. His entire body shook and jerked. "Progressing well I see...well then, it is now time to switch modes!" He pulled the remote out of his utility belt, and hit a button. The beam of light Tribal was floating in changed from bright red to soft blue. His world was joy. "I think I'll leave you like that for a few hours..." Mr. Kuro said. "See you then." With a small "pop!" he vanished into thin air.
Jason Tribal's world was joy. He just felt good. It was better then hearing your favorite song, better then eating your favorite food, better then having sex, it was pure uncensored joy. It was wonderful.
With a small "pop!" Mr. Kuro appeared from nowhere. "Time's up camper." He said. He pulled out the remote, winked, then pressed a button. The beam that tribal was floating in changed from soft blue to bright red...
And so it went on and on. Every three days, Mr. Kuro would come and change the beam to blue. Then about five hours later, he would come and change it back to red. It was sheer torture. Jason Tribal floated in the beam of light for about a year.
With a small "pop!" Mr. Kuro appeared from nowhere. Guess what Mr. Tribal?" He said cheerfully. Tribal was currently floating in the light blue beam. He screamed, as he had done every time Mr. Kuro came by, and struggled to get free of the invisible force holding him in place. "We're letting you out now! The system says you can no longer feel pain!" Mr. Kuro took out the remote, and pressed a button. The beam of light dissapeared entirely. Tribal flopped gently onto the floor. He looked around. For once his vision was unimpared by the beam of light, which had restricted his line of sight to just a few feet beyond his prison. He was in a perfectly cubed room, made of a calming tan color. There were no doors, windows, opr features of any kind in the room. Since he had just exited the blue beam, he had most of his sense about him, so he decided to ask a few questions...
Mr. Kuro looked at the readouts in his sunglasses. The probability engine predicted that there was a 97.68% chance of Tribal saying...
Tribal finally spoke. "WHAT. THE. [censored]. WAS. THAT?"
"THAT." Mr. Kuro said. "Was your preperation for your training and acceptance into Husk Corp!" Tribal blinked.
Mr. Kuro looked at the readouts in his glasses again. The Probabilty engine said that there was a 99.99% chance of Tribal saying...
"[censored] [censored] [censored] YOU [censored] [censored] FREAK [censored] [censored] [censored] KILL [censored] [censored] DIE [censored] [censored] [censored] [censored] YOU [censored] [censored] GAAAAAAAAH!!!" Tribal then launched himself at Mr. Kuro.
Mr. Kuro just caught Tribal in his arms, and flipped a switch on his utility belt. With a small "pop!" Both of them were gone.
With a small "pop!" Mr. Kuro and Tribal both appeared out of thin air. They were in what appeared to be a large, grey room, with beds, storage lockers, some tables, a television screen which filled up one of the entire walls, a few comfy looking black leather couches and chairs, and several doors leading to the unknown. Tribal was foaming at the mouth, he imediatly turned to Mr. Kuro and tried to attack him again. Mr. Kuro raised his hand. "Woah there Mr. Tribal. Try that again and next time I will dump you into a furnace." Mr. Tribal paused. "Now sit down on one of these [censored] comfy couches, and watch some television. You may find it enlightening." Mr. Kuro winked. With a small "pop!" he was gone.
Jason Tribal was very confused and angry. However, he knew perfectly well his enemy appeared to be much more dangerous and powerful then him, so he decided to play along for now. He sat down in the chair, and discovered that it actually was [censored] comfy. He looked at the tv which covered one of the entire walls. It automaticly turned on, and almost instantly, two words appeared, in silver text, and flashed across the screen.
HUSK CORPERATION.
The words faded away. Very soon, nine figures appeared on the screen. Three figures stood to the left, two of them wore identical gray leather jackets, bandanas around their heads and faces, and wore sunglasses. The third of the group only wore a bandana around his head, and had yellow goggles covering his eyes. He was wearing a grey vest over a red shirt, he had heavy black leather gloves on his hands, but the most noteable feature were the sacks of TNT and Dynamite he was carrying. Another three figures stood to the right. Tribal recognized one of them as Mr. Kuro. The second one was almost completely identical to Mr. Kuro, except that he had hair which was gathered into a pony tail. Then there was a hulking, brutish figure, who wore a single bandana around his head, ha dsunglasses, and wore no shirt. He entire torso was covered by tatoos. He had black black gloves covered in spiked chains, and more chains wrapped around his body. He wore a utility belt with spiked points on it. In the center of the screen were two figures. Standing slightly to the right was a hulking man, wearing medival armor covered with strange red runes and symbols. He wore a hood over his face, and red energy crackled and sputtered about him. Then, finally, in the dead center of the screen, stood THE man. He was wearing a black duster hat, twin red tinted monocles, and had a reaper styled cloth peice concealing his entire face, and most of his upper body. He wore a great big buisness jacket with several pockets on it, and beneath was a leather suit with buckles, stiches, and straps. He had clawed hands, which were clad in medival armor, and eteched in bloodred runes. He wore a built, made of a shiney black metal, and in the front there was a single fanged human skull, which was black, and its eyes glowed red. He wore large cargo pants, and down the sides ran pointed and spikey mystical symbols. Descending from his back were two shredded and cut up scarf ends, lookinging like ragged devil wings. Barely noticable, was a diamond shapped, blood red brooch on his right collar. A dark red aura was visible around him, making it feel as though he barely contained enormous power.
He spoke first.
"Mr. Tribal." He said, adressing Tribal. "My name is not important to you yet, so I will not reveal it. However, I feel you should know the names of those you will be working with. That there..." He pointed to the hulking monstrosity by Mr. Kuro. "Is Mr. Nomed. His specialty is brute force, and he is quite literally and metaphorically a tank. Next is Mr. Kuro." He pointed to Mr. Kuro, who waved. "You have already met him. He is the leader of my small collection of...Eh...Specialists." Everyone on screen except for the man in armor and the man in the center laughed. After the laughter died down, the man in the center continued by saying, "The man next to him is Mr. White, Mr. Kuros cousin. He is our weapons expert." The man then pointed to the group to the left of the screen. Then he frowned. "Wait, what is that one doing?" He gestured at one of the thugs. "He's not supposed to be there..." He waved his hand, and one of the two identical thugs vanished. "Anyway. The one with all the explosives is Mr. Poe. He is our demolitions expert, and he is quite handy with improvised munitions. He and Mr. White design most of the weaponry we use." Mr. Poe waved and cackled with a voice that sounded like popping rice krispy treats. "That there next to him is Mr. Walker. He's a crackshot with pistols, and is an excelent computer hacker." Mr. Walker gave a mock salute. "Last, is my companion here." The man said gesturing to the man in armor. "You personally know him as Lord H'taed, although to us, he is just H'tead." Lord H'tead inclined his head slightly. Tribal knew all about Lord H'tead. He was number three on Freedom Corps most wanted list, just below Lord Recluse and the mysterious Public Enemy number one. Tribal began to have serious doubts about his health in the near future if he was going to be working with Lord H'tead. "That is all for today, I am afraid." Said the man in the middle of the screen. "Get some rest, tomorrow, these fine gentlemen will come by, bring you up to speed, equip you, then you'll go on your first journey.
Tribal, or Mr. Tribal as everyone in the group called him, decided that he had finally reached a high point in life. Once Mr. Kuro explained he had gone through the huge torture process so that he would no longer be able to feel pain, and that Husk Corperation was a "gang" of sorts, and they stole over a trillion U.S. dollars a year, Mr. Tribal decided to become an official member of Husk Corperation.
"We're going to pair you with Mr. Walker." Mr. Kuro said. "You'll learn how to fire a gun, and since we are currently lacking a diplomacy expert, we'll teach you that." Mr. Tribal was then given two .57 Desert Eagle Magnums, and given a quick course on how to use them by Mr. Walker. Even though the training session only lasted an hour, Mr. Tribal soon discovered that his aim was exceptional, and he was hitting bulls-eyes from over three hundred feet away. He was given standard Husk Corp. equipment, includeing a self teleporter, sunglasses which doubled as computers and analizers, and of course a brain transplant with a microchip, which allowed him to contact anyone at the group at any time, along with having several other handy features. Then, using a specialized computer program made just for the job, in under an hour, Mr. Tribal was a Grade A diplomat who could put U.N. speakers to shame. Finally, Lord H'tead decided Mr. Tribal was ready for his first outing with the group...
(Atlas Park, City Hall, 1:00 P.M.)
There was a soft "pop!" and suddenly, eight people appeared out of nowhere and started shooting, burning, destroying, and killing anything they saw. Mr. Walker and Tribal shot people over five hundred meters away, and disabled police drones from extreme range. Mr. Poe set fire to several bushes, and planted explosives at the base of the Atlas statue. Mr. White and Mr. Kuro hosed down all nearby heroes with a never ending spary of bullets, obscureing the view of everything that tried to look through the constant storm of bullets. Mr. Nomed ran and smashed down the doors to city hall, and violence was heard from within. Lord H'tead conjured electrical energies to do his will, and turned the entire area around the atlas statue into a static storm of malevolent energies, electrocuting anybody who got too near, while leaving the group of villains unharmed. Suddenly, there was a liud BOOM, and Lord H'tead was thrown against one of the city hall's pillars. Mrs. Liberty pulled back her leg from the roundhouse kick she had performed, and she charged the group of villains.
MUCH later, after long bouts of swearing, shooting wildly, punching, kicking, and biting, Mr. Nomed emerged from city hall with a giant briefcase. "TIME TO GO!" He shouted. He grabbed a broken chunk of pillar from the ground, and lobbed it at Mrs. Liberty. It stunned her for just long enough so that everyone in the group could teleport away with what they had stolen.
To be continued.
In the next issue, Mr. Tribal will have some serious thoughts about leaving Husk Corperation, but dsicovers that it may be impossible...