ERA of Challenge #6: Phanto

PART I: TAKEDOWN
Four Weeks Ago
Agincourt, Nerva Archipelago
Special Agent Slate’s helicopter hovered through Nerva Archipelago. As the turbulent weather rocked him back and forth, he observed the scum that gathered below him. Thugs, brutes, criminals of all kinds, treating this once peaceful island community as their playground. Rage was swelling in his gut, but he swallowed it as the helicopter approached Agincourt and began to touch down.

Agincourt always stood as a beacon of hope in an otherwise lawless land. While vice, greed, and violence engulfed the majority of the Etoile Isles, Agincourt became the stronghold for the only men and women willing to fight against it: Longbow. But in time, even Longbow grew to be despised by not only villains, but heroes as well. Their constant failures made them an embarrassment and their harsh restrictions made them an obstacle to anyone who actually desired to make a difference. Eventually, hardly anyone respected them. The morale of the troops dwindled, with good reason. Your average Longbow Rifleman lasted about a week before being critically injured or hospitalized by one of the supercriminals the organization is desperate to eliminate. Just as Agincourt stood as a beacon of hope in the Isles, Longbow needed a beacon of hope within itself. It needed someone to inspire its members and return glory to their tarnished name.

Slate would soon fill that role. He rose through the ranks of Longbow quicker than anyone in history. He was a master marksman and hand-to-hand fighter. He could rally any squad to complete missions that were thought to be one-way trips. The man was a godsend and exactly what the organization needed. Towards the middle of the year, Slate was given the prestigious status within Longbow that only a few others, such as Indigo and Crimson, held.

He exited the helicopter and was greeted by the acting commander of Longbow forces in the area, Agent Dukakis. The two men made their way into the base and found themselves in a large meeting area, packed to the brim with Longbow grunts. Slate took the podium in the center of the room.

“I’m Special Agent Slate and I’m here to give a briefing of a new task force I will be spearheading,” he surveyed the assortment of would-be peacekeepers in front of him.

One of the soldiers cried out, “We don’t have enough manpower for a new mission! We can hardly defend the garrison here!”

Slate buried his head in his hands, he was expecting this type of response, “I’m not going to lie to you, I’ve thought about throwing in the towel. The years have been bleak. We’ve lost good men, and it seems like we haven’t made any headway. I don’t blame you for wanting to abandon Agincourt and let the Isles be...I really don’t. But on my chopper ride over here, do you know what I saw? I saw innocent people...suffering. I saw the citizens of this community victimized with nobody to help them. And why? Because those monsters out there think this is their safe haven. I’m not going to stand for it! If we give up here, what’s stopping them from expanding to Paragon!? We need to stand up and say NO! We need to be united and prove that there is no place safe for people like them!”

Slate’s speech rallied the men, they shouted in agreement, knowing that giving up was a worse decision than fighting to the last breath.

He pounded his fist on the podium, “We need to hunt the legends that terrorize the Isles! We need to make them all remember that Longbow is here and we won’t stand for their injustice!”

The crowd ate it up...until Slate continued, “And we’ll start by taking down Phanto!”

Things went silent and Slate turned on a projector, showing an image of Phanto behind himself. Phanto was an urban legend of sorts, a puppet-master who relied on theatrics and special effects to fool his foes into believing they were in real danger. He was feared and a perfect example of Longbow’s incompetence, as after years of attempting to catch him, they still didn’t know who was behind the mask.

One of the soldiers piped up, “So your plan is to try and take down a supervillain that’s existed for decades? Don’t you think if it was possible to get rid of Phanto we’d have done it by now!?”

Slate shook his head, “The mantle of Phanto is passed down from person to person. That’s how he’s existed in such different eras. The Phanto of the 1950s was not the same Phanto of the 1980s. I don’t know who chooses the new Phanto or if they’re all just copycat crooks, but the current Phanto has a fatal flaw that his predecessors didn’t.”

The soldier frowned, intrigued by Slate’s words, “Yeah? Well what is it?”

“He’s obsessed with infamy. Its what made him make himself known to heroes, calling out people like Red-Havok and Nimbus when they clearly outmatch him. Its what caused him to unite several villains under one banner and attack Bloody Bay. But that agreement to work together has dissolved. Our intelligence suggests that Exadeus has usurped control of the superpowered thugs known as ‘The Blacklist’ from Phanto, and he’s out for blood. Phanto’s on the run, he’s vulnerable, and it is time...Longbow intervenes.”

The crowd cheered and threw their fists in the air. Slate continued, “Longbow will capture Phanto, bring him to justice, and put the trial on every news station in the world! Everyone will know that even a self-proclaimed boogeyman like Phanto is not above the law! Nobody is! After Phanto, we will not stop. We’ll take down Mindswipe, we’ll take down Mr. Mud, we’ll take down Exadeus, we’ll take down every last psychopath in tights until the people of the world know there is no safe haven for evil!”

The meeting hall exploded with energy. The once lackluster soldiers were re-invigorated with a desire to fight. Slate stepped down from the podium, saluted the men, and exited the room with Agent Dukakis.

Johnny Turbo | Phanto
THE CHALLENGERS: Challenge Accepted
HONORARY MEMBER: WARE.gov (Said I couldn't officially join because I'm too good at PvP)

PART II: TRACKING THE BOOGEYMAN
Four Weeks Ago
Jenkins & Drake Law Firm, Founder’s Falls
One of the first 1950s news articles printed on the Phanto phenomenon labeled him a demon, but as Phanto became less of an urban legend and more of a confirmed threat, his supernatural abilities were dismissed. Instead, he became known as “The Master Trickster”, for more reasons than just the special effects and illusions he used to complete his crimes. He would intentionally leave false clues and evidence regarding his identity to lure anyone who pursued him into traps. Those that survived were humiliated and demoralized, having spent a large chunk of their time playing directly into what was planned.

In order to capture the Master Trickster, Slate backtracked to every piece of evidence Phanto left behind. The list of people arrested under suspicion of being Phanto was enormous. Barnaby Jones, Rick Kellington, Jack Templestone, Grady O’Grady, Marco Jones, these were all names that were at one point thought to be the real identity of Phanto. But each of them was merely a plant. They were minions and foot soldiers loyal to Phanto, but not Phanto himself. As time went on, these crooks were shipped off to prison frequently, but Phanto would live on. While another scumbag may have been locked up, it was clear to see who the real victor was.

Slate knew that buried within these false identities was another clue. Something that would lead him to the true identity of Phanto. That’s when he discovered the common thread. All of these thugs had been defended in court by a member of the Drake family, a powerful group of lawyers that have had a firm in Founder’s Falls since the 1950s. The current partner at the firm, Jacob Drake, followed the same pattern. He defended the last man who stood trial under suspicion of being Phanto. Slate was convinced that the Drake family was also the family that wore the mantle of Phanto. He rallied his best Spec Ops troops and prepared to raid their firm.

Slate, Agent Dukakis, and eight elite Longbow Commandos, calling themselves the “Dirty Fighters”, assembled atop the roof of Jenkins & Drake Law Offices. Slate saluted his team, “Alright men, we’re looking for Jacob Drake. We need to do this quick, and we need to do this efficiently.”

One of the Dirty Fighters thrusted his rifle in the air, “Let’s nail this *******!”

Dukakis kicked open the door to the stairwell, and the small strike team engaged their cloaking devices. They moved down into the building slowly, careful not to give away their position. As they made their way into the main lobby of the building, Slate spotted Jacob Drake’s office on the other side of the room. He had his white whale in his sights...behind that closed door was the man who had been making his organization look foolish for years. Jacob Drake was Phanto, it was the only conclusion that made sense. But in that moment, Slate froze. All signs pointed here, but one thought raced through his head.

“This is too simple,” he whispered to his men.

Suddenly the doors to the firm flung open. Mass hysteria engulfed the lobby. Paralegals dove under desks as security guards desperately tried to reach for their weapons. Unfortunately, they were gunned down much too quickly. The small Longbow squad turned their attention to the new intruders.

Tucker “Powerlaser” Clay, Caleb “Showtime” Gilligan, and Donny “Lead Head” Bronson entered the building surrounded by Family thugs. These three were some of the most influential mob bosses in Paragon and the Isles, but causing senseless panic wasn’t their MO. No, there was a reason they were here, and Slate knew it was most likely the same reason he and his team were there.

“Listen up,” Powerlaser stated as he puffed on his cigar. “Nobody else has to die. We’re here for Jacob Drake.”

A scared staff member pointed towards Drake’s office. Lead Head brought a few boys to check it out while Powerlaser and Showtime kept the crowd under control. Slate watched and told the Dirty Fighters to hold their fire, curious as to what exactly the Family wanted from Phanto. Lead Head opened the door to Drake’s office and entered. It was empty. Lead Head threw the papers off Drake’s desk, desperately trying to find a clue to where he went. He opened the top drawer and found a bomb.

“Get down!”

The blast rocked the building off its foundation. Powerlaser and Showtime rushed to check on Lead Head. He was badly injured, but alive. The office’s walls were charred from the explosion, but the room was still very much intact. Slate ordered his men to uncloak and attack. The Family goons were completely caught off-guard as the Dirty Fighters sprayed them with machine-gun fire. Powerlaser rushed back outside to find half of his thugs taken down. Angered, he charged the laser-cannons he had mounted on his arms and fired at Slate and the Dirty Fighters, forcing them to take cover.

Powerlaser shouted at them, “Longbow is here too? Looks like Phanto pissed off more people than just Exadeus! Ahahaha! Kill them!”

He quickly charged his lasers with dark matter, an ability he gained through equipment he most likely obtained from Exadeus himself. One of the Dirty Fighters was caught by a blast, and it tore a hole through his torso. Pinned down, Slate made the gutsy decision to throw a flash bang, temporarily blinding Powerlaser. Using this opportunity, Slate and the Dirty Fighters moved into Drake’s office as a disoriented Powerlaser fired beams all throughout the lobby, obliterating anything in his path.

Inside the office, Slate came face-to-face with Showtime, who was helping Lead Head up. Alarmed, Showtime dropped Lead Head back onto the floor and pulled out an oversized carnival mallet, proceeding to try and bash Slate’s skull open with it. Dukakis quickly ran up and disarmed him though, by kneeing him in the gut and throwing him over his shoulder. Slate, Dukakis, and the remaining Dirty Fighters searched for clues in Drake’s office. Eventually, they found a trap door underneath the desk, leading into a cramped tunnel. The strike team crawled through it, knowing they were on their way to cornering Phanto.

Powerlaser shook off his disorientation and made his way into the office. He saw his two main enforcers, out of commission, and knew he was in trouble. He swallowed saliva and screamed, “Let’s go! Let’s go!”

Johnny Turbo | Phanto
THE CHALLENGERS: Challenge Accepted
HONORARY MEMBER: WARE.gov (Said I couldn't officially join because I'm too good at PvP)

PART III: RIPJAW’S LAIR
Four Weeks Ago
Canal System, Founder’s Falls
Slate, Dukakis, and the remaining Dirty Fighters followed the cramped crawlspace for what felt like miles. Eventually it emptied out into one of the many hidden canals that permeate Founder’s Falls. It was damp and illuminated only by small light fixtures that adorned the sides of the tunnel. Any reasonable man would’ve called the hunt off, but Slate was determined to keep moving. They slowly followed the flowing water down the tunnel, looking out for any sign of movement.

“He’s gone, Slate. Let’s head back, maybe we can call in back-up and take in Powerlaser, Showtime, and Lead Head,” shouted one of the Dirty Fighters.

Slate saw another opening in the side of the tunnel, similar to the crawlspace that they took down from Drake’s office. It had a small vent covering over it.

“Here! Let’s move!” Slate called out.

Dukakis held his hand out, “Wait! It could be booby trapped!”

One of the Dirty Fighters gripped his rifle, terrified, “He’s right! Phanto’s probably got this entire place rigged!”

Slate rolled his eyes, “Enough. One dark tunnel and you all turn into cowards! We’ve got Phanto on the run! He never expected to be cornered like this!”

Slate removed the vent covering and a large click emanated from the ceiling, followed by a slow cranking noise that dominated the airwaves, like a drawbridge was opening...or a booby trap had been set off.

The Dirty Fighters took a defensive stance, preparing for whatever was coming. The water rippled, something was coming up. The soldiers aimed their rifles at whatever it was, but were knocked back when it finally reached the surface. The Longbow soldiers looked up in horror at the drenched behemoth staring down at them.

It was Ripjaw, formerly Claud Jackson, a pirate who found the “Ripjaw bone” and wore it upon his jaw, mutating him into a horrific leviathan-like monster. The mere sight of him shook every one of the Dirty Fighters to their core. Slate stared up at the beast, disgusted with himself for falling victim to Phanto’s trap.

“OPEN FIRE!” Slate shouted as he and his men unleashed a torrent of bullets, most of which failed to penetrate Ripjaw’s rough skin.

Ripjaw lunged forward, knocking several of the Dirty Fighters into the water. They gasped for air as he pulled them under, tearing them apart in seconds. Slate knew this battle was a lost cause.

“Into the crawlspace! Let’s go!” He shouted as he dived into the narrow passageway. Dukakis followed behind him. A single Dirty Fighter managed to move into the passage, only to be yanked out by the leg. Dukakis and Slate watched in horror as Ripjaw threw their squad around the canal like rag-dolls.

Slate put his hand on Dukakis’ shoulder, “There’s nothing we can do now... I’m sorry this happened. But we can’t lose momentum. Let’s make this worthwhile...let’s take out Phanto.”

Dukakis nodded and the two continued through the crawlspace, leaving the screams of the Dirty Fighters behind them.

Johnny Turbo | Phanto
THE CHALLENGERS: Challenge Accepted
HONORARY MEMBER: WARE.gov (Said I couldn't officially join because I'm too good at PvP)

PART IV: OBSESSION
Four Weeks Ago
Phanto’s Hideout, Founder’s Falls
Agent Raymond Dukakis grew up with a strong admiration for heroes. It was understandable, he was born in Paragon City, surrounded by the greatest icons the world had to offer. He was alive to see the Defenders of Paragon defeat Sovereign in 2002. He witnessed the Eidolon Eight triumph over the Sadistic Seven in Siren’s Call. Dukakis enlisted in Longbow as soon as he had the opportunity, but the organization was headed downhill fast. When Agent Richard Slate became their saving grace, Dukakis submitted himself to him. He idolized him like those he saw conquer insurmountable odds. He thought of Slate as one of people who inspired him growing up. But now, as he followed the quintessential Captain Ahab through yet another cramped tunnel, his opinion of Slate changed.

This man had just left innocents alone with vicious mob bosses. He abandoned his own soldiers to be devoured by Ripjaw. All in pursuit of Phanto, the quintessential white whale. Slate was not the hero everyone viewed him to be. He manipulated and deceived people into following him into hell. Into chasing down Phanto and reaffirming his own dominance. This wasn’t about helping the people, this was about power, control, and most of all, his ego. Beneath the shining exterior he put forth, there was darkness.

The crawlspace dumped Dukakis and Slate into a small, dimly lit room. Newspaper headlines and articles regarding Phanto covered any bare space on the walls. It looked like a funhouse, elongated mirrors and optical illusions were set up everywhere. A single spotlight shined into the center of the room, taunting the two to step forward.

“...Slate...we’re going to die if we keep moving...please, let’s just turn around,” Dukakis spoke, trembling.

Slate ignored him and stepped into the spotlight, unwittingly stepping on a pressure plate and triggering another grate to open, this time on the ceiling. A body plummeted from the top of the building, hitting the ground in front of Slate’s feet. Dukakis covered his eyes, horrified, while Slate bent over and examined the corpse. In his hand was his wallet. Slate opened it and read his license aloud.

“Jacob Drake...” he said, coldly. He turned his attention to a note posted on Drake’s abdomen. Again, he read out loud, “You lose again. Sincerely, Phanto.”

Slate’s rage boiled over as he tore the note in two. He kicked the body of Drake, furious that this was all a dead end, that he had let good men die for nothing. The room went black and Slate suddenly lost all bearings. He had no idea what was going on.

“Dukakis!? What happened!? What’s going on!” He frantically shouted while looking at nothing but darkness. There was no response. “Dukakis?! Where are you!?”

Neon lights powered up around the room, twinkling in different patterns. Slate blinked again and again, trying to regain his composure. Everything looked as though it was spinning. He closed his eyes, trying to remember where he was, what he was doing, and that all this was just an elaborate trick. When he re-opened his eyes, cardboard cut-outs stood before him. They were...of heroes. Cardboard replicas of Red-Havok, Xanatos, Foxy Ferret, Johnny Turbo, The Masked Renegade, Nimbus, Cyberman, and others, too many to count in the haze he was currently in.
“What the hell is going on!? What is this!? Are you here!? Is this real!?” Slate called, gasping for breath. “HELP ME! I don’t know what is going on!”

The cardboard replicas didn’t respond, obviously, but as he stared at them, they became more real, more lifelike. It seemed like they were with him, he reached out his hand, “PLEASE! Help me!”

But, the longer he looked at them, the more they became muddy and grey. They became black silhouettes, they were dark. “What’s going on!? What is this?! Where are you going!?”

He clutched his head, terrified. All he could think of was the men he let die for this. The soldiers, the innocents at Drake’s firm, and now, possibly Dukakis. He felt as though he was being taken over. He felt the cold clammy feeling of darkness envelop him. But suddenly, it stopped. The power died, and the room illuminated normally. He looked up, fully aware of where he was and what he was looking at. There was no sign of Dukakis, but at least he had his sanity.

He heard the sound of cardboard tearing and he turned to find the heroic cut-outs split in half. Standing above the fake corpses of these idols was Exadeus.

Johnny Turbo | Phanto
THE CHALLENGERS: Challenge Accepted
HONORARY MEMBER: WARE.gov (Said I couldn't officially join because I'm too good at PvP)

PART V: DARKNESS
Four Weeks Ago
Phanto’s Abandoned Hideout, Founder’s Falls
When Kellon Faris discovered dark matter, it was hailed as the scientific breakthrough of the century. An untapped substance of cosmic origin that was capable of bending space, time, and reality. The possibilities were endless. But as “dark matter” warped Kellon Faris’ mind, turning him into the mad supervillain Exadeus, the world knew that it was not the great breakthrough they thought. It was evil.

The enigmatic Mr. Shade and his private army of Orthrus Inc. eventually became interested in dark matter. Knowing that the substance could be used to assert his authority over the villains of the world, Shade delved into the origins of dark matter and formulated a plan to gain control of the “Mass Eradicator”, an ancient gateway to the Dark Matter Zone, the deep space area beyond the galactic border where dark matter originates from.

While Shade knew he was getting involved with forces much more powerful than himself, he evoked his talents as a master manipulator to form The Infiltrators. His personal sword; his weapon that he would use to gain control of the Mass Eradicator and open the gateway to the DMZ, using its power to wipe out the villains of the world and establish peace.

But the Infiltrators would not fall into line so easily. In the moment of truth, they opted to destroy the Mass Eradicator, burning both their bridge with him as well as his endgame. Mr. Shade was a master manipulator, but even he was unable to bend the will of the Infiltrators completely. So things seemed to return to normal for the time being. Doomsday was averted, and the Infiltrators would fade away into non-existence, desperate to forget the things they did for Shade.

But on that faithful day at the Mass Eradicator, the Infiltrators had some unlikely help from Phanto and Exadeus, who did not want to see the device activated by a madman like Cyborg Sinister. While the destruction of the device angered Exadeus, Phanto was okay with it, and would be content continuing to create his elaborate crimes and capers to screw with the Infiltrators and Paragon City. That day, Exadeus vowed to kill Phanto for his willing-ness to let the Mass Eradicator be destroyed. And so, an obsession was born, much like that of Agent Slate.

Over the next month, Exadeus built dark matter weaponry for the criminal underworld in exchange for their help in tracking down and eliminating Phanto. But when Sebastian Kain and ERA recruited Phanto into their fold, he became untouchable. If Exadeus were to kill Phanto, it would cause a war of supervillains, something the business definitely did not need. So Exadeus sought to take a similar position to Mr. Shade. He decided to become a master manipulator. There was only one thing he needed, and it seemed to fall into his lap as Slate wandered into the former lair of Phanto.

“Do you know who I am?” Exadeus said, in his booming voice.

Slate shook, petrified with fear, “Exadeus.” He lifted his rifle and aimed it at him, “You’re under arrest.”

Exadeus clenched his fist, “You came here looking for Phanto right? You fell for his tricks too?”

Slate continued to aim his weapon, “I’m not here to chit-chat with you, that’s for sure. Now, hands up, or I’ll shoot.”

Exadeus laughed, “We can...work together. We both want Phanto.”

Slate’s radio buzzed, it was Agent Dukakis, “Slate! Get out of there! I just got this transmission from Vindicators HQ!”

The radio played another transmission, “Help! We’re pinned down! The Vindicators are doing all they can, but its a lost cause! We have confirmation, its...Phanto and Baron Blitzman! They’re tearing through the base! Oh man! They just fried Luminary’s circuits! We need back-up, now!”

The radio cut out, and Slate bit his lip angrily, crushing the radio slightly as he tensed up his arm. Exadeus chuckled, “So...”

Slate cut him off, “Shut up, Exadeus. Put your hands up. I’m not helping you. I’m taking you down, and then I’ll take down Phanto.”

Exadeus shook his head, “Everyone has a dark side, Slate. Embrace yours, it got you this far.” He extended his arms, motioning to the halved cardboard cut-outs of heroes on the floor, “Even these people you look up to, have their own dark sides. I’ve seen them use it, and I want to get them to use it again. We all wear masks. We all deceive. We are all dark on the inside.”

“You’re insane. And I’m putting you down.”

Slate put his finger on the trigger, preparing to fire a shot directly into Exadeus’ skull. Suddenly, two blades thrust through his chest, skewering him like an hour'derve. Slate looked back at his attacker. It was Deceiter, a famous con-artist and chameleon who killed people and took over their identities, and it appeared Slate was next.

Deceiter retracted the blades, and Slate fell forward, dead. Exadeus nodded his head, “Do what you do best.”

Exadeus shared Slate’s goal of capturing Phanto, but he had more resources. Using Deceiter as a stand-in, Exadeus would manipulate Longbow into reforming the Infiltrators. They would all agree, most likely, eager to make amends for what they did for Shade. Phanto represented ERA at the Warrior fighting tournament known as the “Olympiad”. Kain wanted the winner brought into the group, and Phanto would persuade whoever was victorious.

And so Slate, now Deceiter in disguise, implored the former Infiltrators to go undercover, win the tournament, and bring down Phanto. Manipulation was an art form, and Exadeus had become a master. It makes sense, as he needed to be careful during this ERA of Challenge, he needed to adopt the mantra of his ally, Deceiter.

Trust no one.

Everyone could stand to follow that advice.

Trust no one.

THE END

OOC: Continued in the ERA of Challenges: Red-Havok, Armaments, Nimbus, and Foxy Ferret.

Johnny Turbo | Phanto
THE CHALLENGERS: Challenge Accepted
HONORARY MEMBER: WARE.gov (Said I couldn't officially join because I'm too good at PvP)