The Gutter, Grandville
It was another very dull day in Grandville, with overcast skies that seemed to bleed a rusty red. What made today special was the announcement that the heroine turned villainess, Flambeaux, was going to burn school books and emergency supplies while being broadcasted Nation-wide by WSPD. Some raised an eyebrow at this. A few facepalmed. It was clear this was a desperate cry for attention from a spoiled brat. Still, there were more important things to do that day, like reading the Obituaries section of the Newspaper, or maybe repainting that one flaky wall
One person, however, decided to put his foot down. Flambeaux was doing it all wrong, the amateur. Somebody had to show her just *how* it was done in the Isles.
***
Flambeaux twittered nervously. This was *it*. The big moment. The camera crew was almost finished setting up in front of a huge piles of books and supply crates. In a few minutes, it would all go up in flames, and *everybody* would know that she was a genuine article of villainy. At last, she would be taken seriously be the masses. Her brokers would stop giving her that infuriating, condescending smirk whenever she asked them for the weeks newspaper codes. At last, her contacts would start taking her seriously and let her in on the big plots. Let her play in the big leagues.
Her Freakshow allies were keeping a close watch on all the entrances after Arachnos had tried to send in a team to take her down, but all in all, a lot of them looked bored. A few looked uneasy. Everybody knew about Mrs. Francine, a lot of them had reformed friends. The thought of burning books weighed on their minds ever so slightly more than it would have otherwise. But in the end, they went along with it. Flambeaux really knew how to throw one hell of a party, even if she was a bit of a flake as far as her acts of villainy went.
Flambeaux checked her reflection one more time to make sure she looked perfect. She looked over her speech/rant one last time, even having already memorized every word. All of the Rogue Isles would be watching. She had to be perfect. It *would* be perfect. Perhaps even some of the big-shots were watching. Perhaps even And here, Flambeauxs stomach fluttered Lord Recluse would spare the event a glance. Her delusional thoughts were cut short when one of the cameramen came and told her everything was ready. She nodded and approached the pile. She took a deep breath, adjusted her hair and skirt for the hundredth time, and waited for the camera-crew to give her the go signal.
Before they could, all hell broke loose. All the lights in the warehouse the burning was to take place in simultaneously failed, the backup generators kicking in and also instantly overloading. Everything was enveloped in darkness. Roars, yells, and thunderous bangs were heard from the direction of the warehouse entrance as Freakshow and an unknown assailant began to fight. Flambeaux summoned a blade of fire, illuminating the vast storage room she and the camera crew were located in. Freakshow dashed in the direction of the fight with red in their eyes and Excelsior pumping through their veins.
Flambeaux immediately began to panic. The sounds of fighting were growing steadily closer, which meant a member of the Isles Rogues Gallery was coming. Who was it? Mangle? Hollow Point? Silent Blade? No matter *what* she did, all the other villains of the Rogue Isles saw fit to stomp all over her plans with heavy, studded, black leather boots whenever she tried something. It just wasnt fair! Didnt they get that she was on their side? She was a villainess! Why did they insist on smearing their dislike for her all over her face? With their fists?
Her inner-tantrum was cut short. The fight had suddenly spilled into the adjacent connecting hallway, and she could now glimpse her adversary as he mowed down Freak after Freak with a terrifying ease and swiftness. It was hard to make anything out in the darkness beyond the illumination of her fiery blade, but every few moments the hall would alight with either cobalt sparks on some strange kind of golden-orange energy. Finally, whoever had decided to break up Flambeauxs party suddenly exploded. The air was saturated with chaotic energies that rent and tore apart everything they touched. Freakshow screamed as their bodies were atomized or flung bodily across the room, and it was then that Flambeaux knew who had come for her.
Tafari. She growled angrily at the approaching figure. He stood eight feet tall with a chiseled metallic figure reminiscent of a Grecian statue, his bare chest and arms bedecked with white tribal markings. He wore a simple, grey and sleeveless trench coat with baggy pants. His form crackled and surged with golden light as strange unfathomable energies crisscrossed his body and radiated about his form in a glorious aura. He stepped into the room proper and casually backhanded a Freak in the middle of reviving as he walked past, sending the man into spasms on the floor as energy detonations rocked his body.
Pissant. His arrogant and confident voice boomed in reply. He seemed to surge with even more power anew, absorbing all the ambient energy in the room and knocking out the entire camera crew in one fell swoop. Flambeauxs blade of fire faltered briefly, but she caught her breath and stood her ground. Is this the best you could come up with? Burning books? Really. Its embarrassing. You should have never left Paragon City, cape. You may *think* youre some kind of badass, but youre just another poser like 3k Kelvin or Frostfire. Nobodies who thought they were somebody.
Flambeauxs face twisted into a visage of rage, and Tafari smirked. I can only imagine how much you were looking forward to this. Youre probably wearing your good costume, and had a grandiose speech of doom prepared. I admit, I came here because I felt sorry for you. Youre like a child. You have no goddamned idea what youre doing, and everybody else is too busy either laughing or doing something more important to care. But you know what? Flambeaux then made the critical mistake of blinking. Rocketing forward at super speed, Tafari was on her in an instant. He planted a fist right in her midriff, knocking the air out of her lungs and causing hairline fractures in multiple ribs. His energy-draining ability kicked in and sucked her dry of power, her sword of fire sputtering out and plunging the room into utter darkness save for the radiant and glowing beacon that was Tafari.
I care. He laughed as he tossed her limp body into the nearby setup of camera equipment, sending most of it flying. She staggered to her feet, ignoring the blood trickling from her lips and desperately trying to conjure even the smallest of sparks from her fingers. I get it
She gasped. So you came here to humiliate me on live television? Beat everyone up and burn the books yourself? If so, youre doing it wrong! The broken camera equipment had ceased functioning the moment Tafari had entered the warehouse, and there wasnt much of it left that worked.
Tafari laughed. It wasnt an over-the-top cackling mad evil scientist sort of the laugh. It was a slightly more stable laugh, the sort that people laughed due to schadenfreude.
And thats it right there! You just dont get it, you stupid *****! I didnt come here to hijack your stupid plan! In a blink, he had sped behind her and hit her upside the head with a haymaker, sending her into a heap on the floor as golden energy wracked her body. She faded in and out of consciousness from that point. She faintly remembered be dragged roughly from the warehouse and over to the nearby city-encircling wall that protected Grandville. The slap to the face she received to bring her back to a full awareness barely even stung after the torment her nerves had experienced from the earlier energy attacks. Through her daze, she spotted Tafari standing on a heap of dirt before her.
*Here* is where you ****** up, Flam-*****. Tafari drawled in a smug voice. If you want attention in the Rogue Isles, you actually *do* something impressive. You build a giant deathray and blow up a few city blocks. You go on a rampage and decimate an entire team of ******* capes by your lonesome. Failing that, you blow something up with a really big explosion. Dont you go anywhere, and watch how its done. Tafari turned toward the warehouse and seemed to just stand there. He stood there for what, at least to Flambeaux, seemed like a long time. She began to drift in and out of consciousness once again. Eventually, another slap across the face brought her back to reality.
Sorry about the wait, princess. Tafari said mockingly. It takes me ten minutes of uninterrupted charging to pull something like this off. And if so much as a fly lands on me I have to start all over. But when it works
He snapped his fingers.
The skies tore themselves open, and a great cataclysmic rift of energies spider webbed across the skyline. A massive, roaring bolt of lightning that shattered the air ripped down and more or less obliterated the warehouse in its entirety. The earth where it had stood glassed over, and the devastation was so thorough that not even rubble remained. No brick stood atop another where the warehouse had once stood.
You get the picture. Tafari finished. He sat down and leaned against the massive wall beside Flambeaux and watched a small fire begin to spread from the ruins. He seemed almost contemplative now. *That.* Is how it is done. He said after some time. I beat the crap out of you. I beat the crap out of all your friends. I beat the crap out of any idiots who so much as associate with you. I *destroy* everything you have. But
He suddenly got up and stood in front of the now catatonic Flambeaux, paralyzed with fear and horror. I let you live. He laughed again. And nobody will know about this. The giant laser light show in the sky that curbstomped Flambeaux will forever be a mystery. Oh sure, most everyone will know it was me, but hey. Theyll never know for sure. No evidence and whatnot. Because this was a freebie. This was me, caring and understanding ol me, teaching you how its done here in the Rogue Isles. When you want attention, you go and throw somebody important through a wall and parade their body down a few streets. You drag a satellite out of orbit and crash it into something important. You might even want to find some pissant wannabe, stomp all over their plans, slaughter all their pals, beat the crap out of them, and then blow **** up in a fantastical manner. I will *not* do something ******* stupid like burning books. He then kicked Flambeaux in the face, causing her head to collide painfully with the wall she was resting against. Consider yourself learned. Tafari said cheerfully as he grabbed her by the feet and started dragging her away. If youre still alive tomorrow, you should consider going back to Paragon. Its nice there this time of year.
Flambeaux woke up the next morning in a dumpster, halfway cocooned by an Arachnoid.
So. Tip missions. I like them. I actually *feel* like the alignment I'm playing. I either found something that alerted me to possibilities, or I found something inspirational and came up with a masterstroke. I did the work on my own, without some dumb contact who stands around scratching their hair and coughing all day long. I did it without needing to look for slim pickings in the newspaper or from the police band. I either did some genuinely heroic, or something truly devious. And I did it by myself, as either a snap reaction or a carefully drawn-out thought.
But tip-missions can't be tailored to every single character who plays them, which is understandable. The Dev team can only do so much. (SIGNATURE POWERS NAO) So, given the opprotunity, how would one of the many tip missions now present in the game have gone for your character? Will they have taken a third option? Will they have added their own, personal touch to the proceedings? How was *their* execution of the event special and different from what happened in-game?
If this catches your interest, feel free to post here.