((Alright, I felt like writing a story, so here we go. Presented in multiple parts for the best creative flow. Feel free to leave any thoughts you have!))
Part One: Nocturnal Struggle
The streets of Kings Row were dark, especially for a city. The back alleys were almost completely dark, swallowing up all light and hope that was unfortunate enough to come across them. The night was silent as well, the city itself almost asleep. A strangely peaceful night for Paragon City, especially for Kings Row, the slum of the city.
A heavy breathing could be heard through the silence, frantic and quick, like that of a wild animal backed into a corner. A young man, no more than 19, leaned against a brick wall, in a dark alleyway. He was tall and somewhat muscular, wearing red leather, a bandana over his face, carrying a pistol in one hand, and a stolen purse in the other. He was a Hellion, and he was scared. His eyes were shifting and darting, and he jumped at every shadow as if it would entangle and kill him. The young thug sat down on the ground, his back up against a brick wall.
He rested, breathing heavily still, and chuckling to himself. Shoulda known better. Heroes always give up the chase if you try hard enough. The Hellion hit himself in the forehead, and leaned back, tilting his head skyward, just in time to see a cloaked figure descending upon him from a rooftop, hands outstretched like a jungle cat going in for the kill. If the thug hadnt repositioned himself, the figure would have broken his neck. Instead, the thug just had a pair of broken knees.
He screamed out in pain, but was silenced as the figure stuffed a rag in his mouth, and quickly bound the thug up. The man was tall, standing at 63, wearing a long, V-Cut black leather trench coat. He wore nice leather shoes, fingerless biking gloves, a fedora, a pair of aviator sunglasses, black slacks, and a bandana over his face. His hair was also a bright white, almost assuredly not naturally.
The man bent over the tied up Hellion thug, and spoke, quietly, softly, slowly, and calmly. I am going to remove your gag. If you scream, a six inch long piece of galvanized steel will be lodged in your voice box, and a second will be in the process of destroying your left kidney. Understand? The thug nodded slowly, as he lay sobbing on the ground, from a mixture of pain and unbridled terror. The man slowly removed the gag, and the Hellion remained silent. He looked up at his captor, his eyes asking the question he dared not say aloud, Why? The figure sat on the ground across from the Hellion, and began to speak a second time. Now, listen carefully. Flamebroiled, your cell leader, recently received a large shipment of magical artifacts, from an Outcast named Lightningstrike. The two must have had some contact before, and I want Lightningstrikes location.
The Hellion started to sob uncontrollably, I dont know, man! Flamebroiled dont tell us nothin! We just spread the shipments, and collect the payments! I dont know where hes gettin the stuff!
The man stood up, fully upright now. Well, that is a terrible loss, I must say. I was truly hoping I would not have to do this. Rest assured, I wished to avoid this as much as you certainly will in the next few minutes.
The Hellions eyes widened, What, what are you doin man?! Lemme go! The Hellion struggled, but to no avail. He couldnt escape the bindings, and the tall man dug through his belt, until he pulled out a small hypodermic needle, filled with a strange liquid, that glowed softly.
The figure turned towards the thug, speaking very matter-of-factly, Positronic Biodegradation Serum. Now that the old rad suit has a biological structure again, you would be surprised at how easy it is to process his cellular structure into something useful. The figure bent over, and injected the contents into the Hellion. He continued on his matter-of-fact explanation, a slightly radioactive liquid that is especially harmful to organic tissues. First thing to go will be the neural functions. Nervous system will go haywire as well, causing spasm, and a lot of pain. Higher brain functions will degrade, senses will dull, logic and commonsense eroded, memories gone as well. Eventually the muscle will also atrophy, particularly the voluntarily controlled ones. Bone density will decrease drastically; skin will flake and shed constantly, not to mention the sores all across the body. You will eventually suffer from asphyxiation, as your lungs will be the first thing to fully go, and you will not be able to breathe.
The figure crouched down low, near to the Hellions face, who was near passing out from fear at this point, Unless, there should happen to be something you might remember about Lightningstrike? Hmm? The figure said, waving another needle full of a clear liquid in front of him.
Alright! Flamebroiled said somethin about Lightningstrikes hideout! I pretended to not hear, but hes hidden out in the old paper mill here in Kings! NOW PLEASE DONT KILL ME.! The Hellion shouted at the top of his lungs, desperately trying to avoid a gruesome fate.
The figure rose to his feet, and he spoke again, Sorry, I have not deciphered the antidote yet. This needle is filled with saline solution. He put the needle away in his belt, and reached in another pocket, But, since you were so kind and helpful, I CAN offer a swift and much less painful death.
The man bent down again, holding a .45 magnum, loaded with a single bullet, pointed at the Hellions temple. Would you like to make a final statement? The man asked, sounding sympathetic, as though he had nothing to do with the situation.
The Hellion closed his eyes, and tears welled up in the sides of his eyes. He spoke very quietly, Im sorry, Mom. The man, under his mask, smiled, Good answer.
Neighbors awoke to the sound of a gun shot. The Hellion thug lay in the alley, his world slowly fading to black, as blood rapidly flowed out of a rather sizeable hole in his temple.
((Alright, I felt like writing a story, so here we go. Presented in multiple parts for the best creative flow. Feel free to leave any thoughts you have!))
Part One: Nocturnal Struggle
The streets of Kings Row were dark, especially for a city. The back alleys were almost completely dark, swallowing up all light and hope that was unfortunate enough to come across them. The night was silent as well, the city itself almost asleep. A strangely peaceful night for Paragon City, especially for Kings Row, the slum of the city.
A heavy breathing could be heard through the silence, frantic and quick, like that of a wild animal backed into a corner. A young man, no more than 19, leaned against a brick wall, in a dark alleyway. He was tall and somewhat muscular, wearing red leather, a bandana over his face, carrying a pistol in one hand, and a stolen purse in the other. He was a Hellion, and he was scared. His eyes were shifting and darting, and he jumped at every shadow as if it would entangle and kill him. The young thug sat down on the ground, his back up against a brick wall.
He rested, breathing heavily still, and chuckling to himself. Shoulda known better. Heroes always give up the chase if you try hard enough. The Hellion hit himself in the forehead, and leaned back, tilting his head skyward, just in time to see a cloaked figure descending upon him from a rooftop, hands outstretched like a jungle cat going in for the kill. If the thug hadnt repositioned himself, the figure would have broken his neck. Instead, the thug just had a pair of broken knees.
He screamed out in pain, but was silenced as the figure stuffed a rag in his mouth, and quickly bound the thug up. The man was tall, standing at 63, wearing a long, V-Cut black leather trench coat. He wore nice leather shoes, fingerless biking gloves, a fedora, a pair of aviator sunglasses, black slacks, and a bandana over his face. His hair was also a bright white, almost assuredly not naturally.
The man bent over the tied up Hellion thug, and spoke, quietly, softly, slowly, and calmly. I am going to remove your gag. If you scream, a six inch long piece of galvanized steel will be lodged in your voice box, and a second will be in the process of destroying your left kidney. Understand? The thug nodded slowly, as he lay sobbing on the ground, from a mixture of pain and unbridled terror. The man slowly removed the gag, and the Hellion remained silent. He looked up at his captor, his eyes asking the question he dared not say aloud, Why? The figure sat on the ground across from the Hellion, and began to speak a second time. Now, listen carefully. Flamebroiled, your cell leader, recently received a large shipment of magical artifacts, from an Outcast named Lightningstrike. The two must have had some contact before, and I want Lightningstrikes location.
The Hellion started to sob uncontrollably, I dont know, man! Flamebroiled dont tell us nothin! We just spread the shipments, and collect the payments! I dont know where hes gettin the stuff!
The man stood up, fully upright now. Well, that is a terrible loss, I must say. I was truly hoping I would not have to do this. Rest assured, I wished to avoid this as much as you certainly will in the next few minutes.
The Hellions eyes widened, What, what are you doin man?! Lemme go! The Hellion struggled, but to no avail. He couldnt escape the bindings, and the tall man dug through his belt, until he pulled out a small hypodermic needle, filled with a strange liquid, that glowed softly.
The figure turned towards the thug, speaking very matter-of-factly, Positronic Biodegradation Serum. Now that the old rad suit has a biological structure again, you would be surprised at how easy it is to process his cellular structure into something useful. The figure bent over, and injected the contents into the Hellion. He continued on his matter-of-fact explanation, a slightly radioactive liquid that is especially harmful to organic tissues. First thing to go will be the neural functions. Nervous system will go haywire as well, causing spasm, and a lot of pain. Higher brain functions will degrade, senses will dull, logic and commonsense eroded, memories gone as well. Eventually the muscle will also atrophy, particularly the voluntarily controlled ones. Bone density will decrease drastically; skin will flake and shed constantly, not to mention the sores all across the body. You will eventually suffer from asphyxiation, as your lungs will be the first thing to fully go, and you will not be able to breathe.
The figure crouched down low, near to the Hellions face, who was near passing out from fear at this point, Unless, there should happen to be something you might remember about Lightningstrike? Hmm? The figure said, waving another needle full of a clear liquid in front of him.
Alright! Flamebroiled said somethin about Lightningstrikes hideout! I pretended to not hear, but hes hidden out in the old paper mill here in Kings! NOW PLEASE DONT KILL ME.! The Hellion shouted at the top of his lungs, desperately trying to avoid a gruesome fate.
The figure rose to his feet, and he spoke again, Sorry, I have not deciphered the antidote yet. This needle is filled with saline solution. He put the needle away in his belt, and reached in another pocket, But, since you were so kind and helpful, I CAN offer a swift and much less painful death.
The man bent down again, holding a .45 magnum, loaded with a single bullet, pointed at the Hellions temple. Would you like to make a final statement? The man asked, sounding sympathetic, as though he had nothing to do with the situation.
The Hellion closed his eyes, and tears welled up in the sides of his eyes. He spoke very quietly, Im sorry, Mom. The man, under his mask, smiled, Good answer.
Neighbors awoke to the sound of a gun shot. The Hellion thug lay in the alley, his world slowly fading to black, as blood rapidly flowed out of a rather sizeable hole in his temple.