[RPG] An Adventure You'd KILL For...

[Varthonai]

This is my new Text RPG, which I think will allow for more character development than my last one while simultaneously being a bit less chaotic.

Basically, we will all play as fictional serial killers (since the retargeting update, though, it now includes most fictional character who have ever killed other sentient fictional characters.). I’m not going to allow any real serial killers, for various reasons, but that shouldn't be too much of a problem.

We’ve all been transported to individual cells in some sort of prison; all of our cells are designed specifically to contain us (i.e. Freddy Krueger would have some sort of dream-proof cell, but Dexter Morgan would just have an ordinary cell for humans.) We don’t know how we got there and we don’t know that there are other people in the prison (because, like I said, our cells are separate.) The plot of the story will advance as we discover where we are, why we’re there, who else is in here with us, and how we can escape. We'll escape from our cells fairly early, and then we'll start meeting up with each other and planning how we get out. I promise you that we will leave a very bloody trail in our wake. :devil:




As of Feb 16 09,

--CATEGORIES--
--ARE NO LONGER REQUIRED--
--IN CHARACTER PROFILES--
due to the Game Mod deeming them unnecessary.




MAJOR RULES:

1. KNOW YOUR CHARACTER. If possible, you should have seen the movie, or read the book, or heard the musical, or whatever; if you haven’t seen the movie or read the book or heard the musical but you can convincingly lie about it and back up your lies with in-character posts, that’s also ok. You should know the character well enough to play him / her effectively. If the Game Mod believes that you are out of character, you will receive a warning about it via PM but you will not receive any punishment. If you repeatedly continue to be out of character, however, your right to play that character will be revoked. Be warned—the Game Mod has experience with lots of fictional serial killers and it will be hard for you to find one that he doesn’t know. If you’re out of character you will most likely be spotted right away.

2. DON’T PICK A CHARACTER WHO’S ALREADY TAKEN. Continuity will be totally screwed up if you do. (However, you may be able to pick a different version of a character who’s already taken… more on this in the Minor Rules.)

3. DON'T MOVE AROUND TOO MUCH. You can do whatever you want in the space you're provided with, but you can't leave that space until the Game Mod says so. Also, you can kill NPCs in your area whenever you like, but you must ask permission from the Game Mod to kill another player, and the answer will almost always be "no."


MINOR RULES:

1. CLARIFY YOUR CHARACTER’S CONTINUITY. Some characters—particularly the Joker—are portrayed in vastly different ways in different mediums. Make it clear which one you’re following. There’s a section for this in your profile description.

2. MULTIPLE IDENTICAL CHARACTERS CAN APPEAR IF THEY USE DIFFERENT CONTINUITIES. For example, one player could be the Joker from Batman: The Killing Joke the graphic novel and another player could be the Joker from Batman: The Dark Knight the movie. However, if you want to do this, you should PM me with a request to do so first.

3. DON’T BE A DICK. This would normally be a Major Rule, but it’s so vague that I can’t in good conscience make it a Major Rule. I hope you can all be clear on this one anyway.

4. (Added out of unfortunate necessity.) KEEP OUT-OF-STORY DISCUSSION IN PM! Don't clutter the thread with stuff that's not furthering the plot; it makes it harder for new people to catch up. If your post contains ABSOLUTELY NOTHING that isn't in parentheses, or if it is otherwise unimportant to the thread as a whole, I will report it. So stop doing it!)



Now that we’ve established those details… here’s my profile. Everyone’s should be modeled on this one.


CHARACTER: The Corinthian

CATEGORY: Smart and Witty / F*cking Insane

CONTINUITY: The Sandman: The Kindly Ones by Neil Gaiman

WEAPONS: Swiss Army knife (ftw!)

CLOTHING: Jeans, white t-shirt, dark sunglasses

PREFERRED M.O.: Removes victims’ eyes, eats them, then kills victim

FIGHTING STYLE: Hand-to-hand combat, Swiss Army knife

SUPERNATURAL: Dream-based body; superhuman strength; can absorb the visual memories of his victims by eating their eyes (NOTE: If your character has no supernatural abilities you should write “N/A” in this section)

APPEARANCE: Bleach-white hair, muscular Caucasian body, mouths and razor-sharp teeth where his eyes should be. Usually covers his eyes with sunglasses to prevent others from seeing this, but when he takes them off:



http://i166.photobucket.com/albums/u119/PyzamoGirl/The_Corinthian.png


BIO: The Corinthian was created by Morpheus the Dream King, intended to be a masterpiece among nightmares. The first Corinthian was a failure, and escaped into the human world to murder humans for many years until Morpheus finally captured it and destroyed it. The new Corinthian is much more loyal and intelligent than the first, though he has the same psychotic urges and desires of the original.

[Andrehydra]

(Well, nice RP Varth, I'll join if I have the time, which now I don't.)

[Varthonai]

(Cool. I'm hoping that someone will be Richard the Warlock, because that alone would make the game about 10x more fun... I considered doing him myself but the Corinthian was just too cool to pass up. And too Neil Gaiman-y to pass up. :banjo:)

(There are lots of pretty deep characters to choose from in this field. I'm really looking forward to seeing some people's choices.)

[Paperback Writer]

(This seems more for our Irish friend. He writes horror stories and stuff. I bet he'll love this.)

[Varthonai]

(Yeah, I'm hoping he'll join. Actually I'm hoping that just about every active member will join, but I'd settle for one or two of the really good RPers and a handful of other active members.)

[Paperback Writer]

(Am I a good Rper?)

[Varthonai]

(Sure. Does that mean you're thinking about joining?)

[Paperback Writer]

Nah, I'm not good with being horror... Unless we're at the screaming part. I know how to make it realistic. ;P

[Varthonai]

(It doesn't have to be horror. Well, at least not necessarily.)

(It's mostly about the characters and their personalities.)

(I don't want to encourage you to join if you don't have a good character in mind, of course. But if you do, go for it.)

[Killervirus]

NAME: Belkar Bitterleaf.

CONTINUITY: http://www.giantip.com (Order of the Stick)

CATEGORY: F*cking hilarious.

WEAPONS: Double wielded dagger + throwing knife. As a Halfling though, he's good at throwing the most random stuff at his opponents.

CLOTHING: (More in appearance.)

PREFERRED M.O.: Uhm?

FIGHTING STYLE: Sneaky. Not really brutal, but his sneakyness and cleverness makes him as deadly as poisonous snake food, mixed with rat poison and filled with needles and other items might causing you to choke.

SUPERNATURAL: Ring of jumping +20.

APPEARANCE:
http://tn1-1.pv.deviantart.com/fs17/150/f/2007/132/3/6/Belkar_Bitterleaf_by_Inkthinker.jpg

BIO: has joined the Order of the Stick a year ago, Belkar had lots of occasions to show off his lust for murder and volunteer man-slaughter. The only excuse Roy, leader of the group, finds to make him come along, is the promise of sweet goblin-flesh.
Belkar has showed interest in cooking and candy over the years, as well as the incessant poking and / or stabbing of Roy.

[Varthonai]

(Ha, good choice Virus. Looking forward to that.)

[Killervirus]

(Ah, it was that or Leatherface. You know, "Texas Chainsaw Massacre"? By the way, I suggest this one to anyone wanting to be F*CKING INSANE, 'coz he beats all.)

[XdbX]

(got to ask you this. Do i have to come up with some one from a book/movie/whatever?)

[Varthonai]

(Yeah, XdbX. Sorry but I really think it will work better with preexisting characters.)

[XdbX]

(darn time to go back and read Sherlock Homes:()

[Varthonai]

(Wait a second... Virus, I think that Belkar does have a supernatural ability. He has his Ring of Jumping. You might consider that to technically be a weapon and not an ability, but still...)

[Killervirus]

(Righto. Edited.)

[XdbX]

(Can i find some one off Wikipedia?)

[Varthonai]

(Can i find some one off Wikipedia?)


MAJOR RULES:

1. KNOW YOUR CHARACTER. If possible, you should have seen the movie, or read the book, or heard the musical, or whatever; if you haven’t seen the movie or read the book or heard the musical but you can convincingly lie about it and back up your lies with in-character posts, that’s also ok. You should know the character well enough to play him / her effectively. If the Game Mod believes that you are out of character, you will receive a warning about it via PM but you will not receive any punishment. If you repeatedly continue to be out of character, however, your right to play that character will be revoked. Be warned—the Game Mod has experience with lots of fictional serial killers and it will be hard for you to find one that he doesn’t know. If you’re out of character you will most likely be spotted right away.

(Does that clarify everything, XdbX?)

(You can use someone off Wikipedia, but only if you can convince us that you really know the character well. So if you can learn enough from Wikipedia to play the role, then yes. Otherwise, no.)

[Andrehydra]

(Yeah, my character is about to be done, just can't think of an appearance.)

[Varthonai]

("Think of an appearance"? Couldn't you just describe it as it is?)

[XdbX]

(darn. well i don't read murder book or any thing. the only person i can think of that i could do is the hood and well he only tried to murder some one in the movie so i don't think i will be joining you guys. sorry by)

[Varthonai]

(S'cool, XdbX. Maybe it'll work out in my next RP.)



(BTW Virus, it's taking a while for people to post characters so I think we will start when the 3rd player chooses a character. Which will probably be Andre.)

(People can keep joining after it starts, though.)

[Killervirus]

(Sure, it'll speed up abit.)


(By the way, I might have extreme difficulties using Belkar to make jokes, so don't judge me D:)

[Victory]

Might as well try this out!

CHARACTER: Dwight McCarthy - mockingly refered to as "The Shadow"

CONTINUITY: Sin City

Category: Dark and Moody

WEAPONS: Dual Colt 1911s

CLOTHING: Jeans, black shirt, flowing leather coat and a pair of red Converse Sneakers.

PREFERRED M.O.: Avoids killing people as much as possible. Otherwise, he uses guns to blunty off them.

FIGHTING STYLE: An excellent kicker; dislikes punching as he hates to 'skin his knuckles'. A terrific shot.

SUPERNATURAL: unbelievable durability and near supernatural athletic capabilities.

APPEARANCE: Brown wavy hair, a muscular caucasian physique and very gloomy facial lines.
Picture (http://img518.imageshack.us/img518/4144/dwightxm3.png)

BIO:
A photographer who was tricked into becoming a murderer. Following those events, Dwight changes his appearance and tries to live life by becoming his night side, the monster he was so afraid to unleash. He is a sucker for women and is closely allied with the girls of Old Town and often goes to great lenght -- endangering his own life -- to help them.

[Varthonai]

(Sweet, we've got 3 players AND Vic. Nice choice, Vic, I might add. Although Dwight's not technically a serial killer, but he's also too good a character to complain about.)

(I'm a little busy right now, guys, but I will make the intro plot post in a couple of hours. The game will officially begin then.)

[Victory]

(Well, the definition of a serial killer is someone who kills more than three people, one at a time, in a short period of time. I believe Dwight does fit into that, even though those times aren't entirely unprovoked. We have Damien and Ava Lord and then you could probably take your pick in The Big Fat Kill to fill out the description. I wouldn't call him a serial killer either but by that description he is categorized as one.)

[Rockonman]

(I hope this works)

CHARACTER: Uhtred Ragnarson

CONTINUITY: 9th century Britain - as described in the Saxon Stories by Bernard Cornewell

Category: Dark and Moody / smart and witty

WEAPONS: Two long swords

CLOTHING: Cloak, chain mail, gloves, helmet, leather vest

PREFERRED M.O.: Loves large melees, but rather wouldn't fight

FIGHTING STYLE: a lot like the spartans in 300, except less strong, and wears more clothing.

SUPERNATURAL: Could go for days fighting and not get tired.

APPEARANCE: Long hair, brown hair and eyes. fairly tall and in shape. Otherwise, Anglo Saxon apperance.

BIO:
He is a great war leader, and fiercely enjoys his comradeship with his fellow warriors. He is fairly quiet with some funny outbursts. His forced marrige led to many arguments with his wife. One thing on his mind is his enemies Kjartan, and his one-eyed son, Sven, who killed his father and destroyed their home.

[T.L.I.]

(Would Sauron work?)

[Varthonai]

A group of dark figures stooped down low to gaze at figures on a screen.

“The countless multitude of worlds…” one of them spoke, awed. “I have seen them a thousand times, yet their beauty never ceases to amaze me.”

“They are worlds ripe for slaughter,” said another, dismissively. “We have work to do.”

“Three of the subjects have been reeled in, Sir,” said a third, working at a separate terminal. “They’re in their cells now. A human, a Halfling, and a nightmare.”

“Continue, then,” answered the second speaker. “We should spare no more time. The plan must begin now.”


* * *

With a throbbing pain in his head, the Corinthian regained consciousness. The Corinthian was not born with the ability to sleep, nor did he intend to achieve it—dreams rarely do—but in this instance, it seemed that sleep had been thrust upon him.

A voice—thought it sounded more like a chorus of voices—began speaking. The Corinthian looked from side to side, but could not identify the source.

“Hello, Corinthian,” said the voices, softly and without a trace of accent. They were computerized voices, artificial ones—someone was speaking, and that meant that “someone” might or might not have been a person. They were either artificial themselves, or they wished to conceal their identities.

“Who are you?” the Corinthian asked, his own voice low and menacing. “Where am I?”

“You were removed from the Dreaming for our purposes. You will remain here until we dictate otherwise.”

Pfft. I care not. I will kill you all and return to my Lord right now, thought the Corinthian. He looked around for a door, or some other way of knowing where he was.

There was nothing—only empty void.

“You cannot possibly mean to tell me that my Lord has grown displeased and cast me into the Darkness! I have served him without error!”

“Lord Dream’s displeasure is none of our concern, little nightmare.”

“Then you are not associated with him. This is not the Darkness.”

“This may be. This may not be. We chose the best means to imprison you that we knew of, and at the moment, those means are confusion and uncertainty. You could be anywhere. You could be everywhere. You could be nowhere. But you are certainly no longer in the Dreaming.”

The Corinthian turned his head upwards and shouted angrily. “Do you know who my master is? Do you know what he will do to you? Ever heard of my Nightmare friend, Eternal Waking? When my master gets here, I’m sure you’ll get to know him really, really well. That is, if you’re lucky, and if my master is in a forgiving mood.”

Although, frankly, that’s sort of a bluff. Lord Morpheus was willing to be intimidating that way; his current replacement doesn’t have the same dark streak. The Corinthian sighed nostalgically.

The voices continued. “Again,” they repeated, “Lord Dream’s displeasure is none of our concern. We do not fear him.”

Idiots. They don’t know when a healthy dose of fear would do them good. That’s why people need nightmares in the first place.

“We will contact you again at a later time, with instructions,” continued the voices. “Until then, you will remain here.”

“And what makes you think that I will obey your instructions at all?!”

“You will have little choice, nightmare. Observe.”

A figure materialized next to the Corinthian, a figure cloaked in white. The figure’s skin was pale, and its hair was as white as the rest of its body. It was male; his eyes gleamed like stars. It stood over a desk, signing papers with a feather quill pen. The Corinthian recognized his new master immediately—but the nightmare was also suspicious.

“You take the semblance of my Lord and King,” noted the Corinthian, pensively. “This is a trick that has been used against me before. The trickster was a particularly foolish and overreaching god, and his deception failed to convince me—so I cut out his eyes and delivered him to his enemies so that he might be chained beneath the earth. Snakes drool venom into his empty sockets. He will writhe there for an eternity. What do you say to that, my Lord?”

The figure did not move or speak, but merely continued writing. “You’re certainly doing a good impression of my master’s stoic manner,” continued the Corinthian, “but I know that he is perfectly capable of speech.”

The artificial voices resonated around the Corinthian again. “We assure you that this is no illusion. We have opened a scrying portal to the Dreaming, to prove that your master is not pursuing your rescue.”

“Impossible!” the Corinthian growled. Through the dark lenses of his sunglasses, one could just barely make out two rows of teeth that ground against one another in frustration. “He will tear this place apart when he finds I am missing!”

“Ah, but when we took you from the Dreaming, you were on your way to the Waking World. For all the Prince of Stories knows, you arrived there safely and are pursuing the mission that he gave you. When the Dream Weaver next tries to contact you—and finds that you do not respond—he will simply assume that you have followed the example of your predecessor, deserting him and living among the mortals.”

I am not certain of that. Lord Morpheus might have made that conclusion, but the new King of Dreams is not so suspicious. So, very well, then… I am content to wait, for now.

That is, almost content. A tongue emerged from the Corinthian’s left eye-mouth and licked his eyelids in a decidedly wolfish manner. “You would have needed to send some sort of magic practitioner in here, in order to cast this scrying portal, yes?” he asked, speaking into the void.

The voices said nothing. That only confirms it, then, thought the nightmare.

The portal shrank into a small sphere and began hastily moving away, almost as if it were frightened. The Corinthian lunged at the space a few feet ahead of the sphere, hit something vaguely cold and clammy but solid, and pinned it to the ground. Sparks flew, illuminating a struggling lizard-like creature in a cloth wizard’s robe, a desperate thing trying to shock the Corinthian into letting go by using small bolts of magical lightning. One lucky bolt managed to knock his glasses a few feet away, but the rest did little to hold the nightmare back.

The Corinthian’s now-visible eye-mouths both opened wide and cracked into twin smiles. He lowered his face toward the struggling mage, and the two sets of teeth reached out with voracious intent and malice.

“I am a visionary,” the Corinthian said aloud, speaking through his eye-mouths rather than his main one. His face was barely an inch away from the reptilian mage’s now, coming closer…

The nightmare snapped a single reptilian eyeball in each set of jaws, bit down through the eyelids and pulled his head back again. Strings of neuron fiber and muscle trailed from the two orbs that he had taken from the lizard-like creature, flopping downward to his chin as he chewed them like noodles. He sucked the fleshy tendrils in to join his other two mouthfuls, savoring the unusual taste as he did so; the exterior tissues were tender and succulent, while the vitreous humor was sweet and creamy, with just a hint of bitterness. He waited a moment, then swallowed, and the eyes were gone.

Later, when he had more time, the Corinthian would check to see if the eyes formerly owned by his lizard friend had any important or informative images burned onto their retinas, but for now he simply enjoyed the aftertaste. Information-gathering and escape-planning could wait for a bit. He was in a happy mood again.

The Corinthian had almost forgotten his screaming lizard companion by that point, but the eventual end of his gourmet taste experience brought him back to reality. The nightmare pulled his Swiss Army knife from his pocket, unfolded the main blade, and advanced toward his writhing, blinded victim.

This is what I think of your “instructions,” thought the nightmare, with a touch of bitterness that matched the flavor of his recent meal.

Morons.


* * *

“Was that entirely necessary?” asked one of the dark figures in the main chamber. “Our mages are in limited supply.”

“It was absolutely necessary to make the Corinthian feel calm, comfortable, and in control,” responded another. “Allowing him one single kill was a very cost-effective way to achieve that end. The more confident he is, the more easily we can control him. The mage that we sacrificed has no particularly useful visual memories. Apart from the ones that we erased beforehand, of course.”

“…er, did we have to leave him with his knife? It’s not as if there are bars on his prison to file through, but…”

“It will save us the trouble of returning it to him when he needs it. He is the only prisoner so far that we cannot restrain with a traditional cell… although there are certain to be more like him as the operation continues… and we cannot risk manually sending people in to give it to him and then take it back. You saw what he did to that mage… and he only used the knife to finish it off.”

“Hmph. Very well, then. I suppose it’s time to speak with our other guests.”

“Agreed. Put them on the line.”

"Will we need to send messengers in person?"

"Depends. We'll see."


(Ok, so now, players should make a post about their first communication with our captors.)

(You can kill messengers if you like, just like I did, but you can’t escape while doing it, and it should be done in a reasonably clever way that suits your character.)



(FYIs to the following people: )

(ROCKONMAN: Uhtred is a good idea and a good character… but technically, I don’t think he has ever committed murder. The people he has killed were all killed in battle, which is different from murder. For that reason, I don’t think he would be a reasonable character to use in this RP. But if you can think of a character who fits the “serial killer” profile a bit more accurately, feel free to come back anytime—this RP will always be open to new characters.)

(T.L.I.: The problem here is that Sauron is more of an “evil overlord” than a serial killer. He uses minions to do most of his dirty work, rather than going out and killing people himself—although he did that a bit too, back before the Ring got cut off his finger. But like I said to Rockonman, feel free to come back if you want to do someone else.)

(VIRUS: Belkar is in a deep pit with no ladder, sort of like he was in this issue of OotS (http://www.giantitp.com/comics/oots0261.html). Except they’ve also taken his Ring of Jumping, so getting out won’t be as easy this time.)

(VICTORY: Dwight is in a maximum-security prison cell right now. His pistols have been confiscated but if someone gets too close to the bars he can still attack physically, in case you want him to kill and / or injure and / or threaten a messenger.)

[Silence]

NAME: Belkar Bitterleaf.

Wow. Someone here other than me reads those!

[Varthonai]

(The game has officially started, silence. Please use parentheses () to close text that is out of context of the RPG.)

[T.L.I.]

(How many kills does it take to make a serial killer?)

[Varthonai]

(3 kills, over a period of time. It doesn't count if you kill 3 people at once or something. And generally, they have to be murders.)

(Also they are usually psychotic or deranged somehow, with a pathological desire to kill that goes beyond a desire for wealth or power. Someone who kills for money, like a mafia assassin, usually wouldn't be considered a serial killer.)

(There are exceptions to that rule, though. I made an exception for Vic in that case.)

[Kreekakon]

(Do people like Jigsaw from the Saw movies count as a serial killer in your defination Varth?)

[Varthonai]

(Yes. In fact, I mentioned Jigsaw as an example of a #1 type character.)

[Kreekakon]

(Whoops sorry. Must've missed it:P.)

[T.L.I.]

(Would the Pred-alien work?)

[Varthonai]

(Would the Pred-alien work?)

(Well, I don't think they really consider what they do to be "murder." It's the equivalent of big game hunting for them. So probably not.)

(I mentioned a lot of possibilities in my first post, so you could pick one of them if you want. If you don't know any of them very well, I would highly recommend Richard the Warlock; he's a hilariously awesome character, and you can read all of his story online here (http://www.lfgcomic.com/page/1) without renting a movie or reading a book.)

[T.L.I.]

(I CALL RICHARD THE WIZARD.)
(I need to use tonight to get his character down.)

[Varthonai]

(Haha, great. He's all yours T.L.I.)

(*rubs hands together* yesssssss...)



(FYI to T.L.I., when you start playing, Richard will be in a max-security prison cell and chained with warded locks that prevent him from using magic, just like he was on Looking for Group Page 129.)

[Killervirus]

(Sorry I wasn't able to do this sooner.)

Belkar raised from the comfy matress he was sleeping on, except that it wasn't comfy, and there was no more matress. He wasn't in the middle of nowhere with a red-haired girl that was stupid enough to throw HIS candy away and a poly-poxy nimf, but surrounded by darkness.

"What the-" he started, but he got a sudden tought, mostly related to his recent experiences.

"Heh, nice joke, Haley, Vaarsuvius would have been proud." he said, blindly trying to find an exit with his small hands.

"This isn't a Haley, Belkar, nor is it a joke." a voice said. It strangely enough appeared to come from above.

"Roy?" Belkar hesitantly asked. The voice was slightly like the one from the bastard.

"No, Belkar, this isn't Roy, nor even Haley, Elan, Hinjo, whoever you might assume this is."

"I wish I bought that torch yesterday." Belkar taught, once again bumping against a wall. He was in a small space, he realised. Some sort of darkness spell had been cast, so he saw nothing, but he had a feeling he was in a damned pit. Again.

"I see, and is their any reason why you threw me in this dark pit, or did you just get some ranks in "Halfling Misuse." Belkar said, kind off hoping it was the first one.

"Our reasons cannot be revealed to you yet, though it'll become clear later on. Until then, you remain here, unless you want to get tortured to near death for failed escape."

"Get yourself some ranks in "Intelligence" and leave me go, instead of ruining them in "Suiciding" and "Douchebagerie." Belkar replied.

In the half dark, he silently grinned and got ready to jump upwards.

To late he realised he didn't had his ring of Jumping.

Going up only half a meter, he fell back down, his big head sucked downwards immediatly.

With a great BANG, he smacked his head against the floor.

Before losing conciousness, he whispered one last word.

"Damnit."

[Varthonai]

(Cool, thanks Virus. After Vic posts his first narrative we can start moving on to action.)

(T.L.I., post your profile whenever you're ready and I'll work you into the story.)

[Victory]

(I'm going to try and mimic the style of the Sin City narrative - just because it would capture this personality better - so my style of writing will be fittingly different to yours; seeing how Sin City is based on black-white contrasts. If it doesn't work, give me a nudge)

It was dark when I came to but anything but silent. The screams of men echoed in my skull like they were screaming directly into my ears. Screams of pain or joy or just for the heck of it. I let it set the tone for the headache that was sure to follow. I can feel it already.

It takes me a while to realize that it isn't dark at all. I'm starring into the darkest stone man ever used in any building. So dark the inside of my eyelids are blinding and painful.

Right on cue. The headache inevitably kicks in in full gear! My head feels a few sizes too big and a several pounds too heavy as I raise myself from the ground. The pain almost makes me miss those morning hangovers in Old Town.

Almost.

"Fresh blood" someone screams in the distant and I realize the party is for me. The voice is Caucasian. Probably belongs to a larger than average scum who think of himself as a beast. Someone who can run the show around here. Someone eager to run me buy the rules of his world. A dead man like me.

I'll remember the voice.

"You're awake." The voice is damaged. Not naturally as hoarse as it has become.

I turn around, meeting eyes with the slime just outside the bars to my prison. His breath reeks of smoke and there's a cigarrete lying trampled on the ground but the tip is still burning and building a raging amber. He's been here for a while.

My guns are gone. They must have taken them when they put me in here. They even took the small .22 I packed in my sleeve but they haven't taken anything else. There's a note in my pocket with Shellie's number. I still haven't called her since the incident with Jackie-boy. That cold feeling in my gut that grips on and won't let go suggests that I might not get a chance to, either. She's used to it. She can take it.

"Where's my car?"

It's the only question I can formulate and the most pressing one in my opinion. A 53 Cadillac Eldorado! Handles like a dream.

"We took the liberty of disposing the vehicle for you, you won't be needing it after all."

I feel my skin stretch over my knuckles and I'm sure I just cracked a tooth.

"Mr.McCarthy, I won't be long; I suspect you have important things to attend to shortly. My employers had you brought here with a special interest in mind. So far, I've only been asked to tell you that you are no longer in Sin City. To speak the obvious, you'll be staying here for a while."

I don't listen. I hear random words as I tune in and out from what I pray is a premonition in a not in a too distant future. It could be nothing but a day dream but the images are satisfying and are more interesting than his speech.

"We'll be back soon to brief you with further instructions."

I snap out of it on cue.

"What's your name?"

"Good bye, Mr.McCarthy."

He walks away but I don't let him out of my sight. I follow his footsteps down the way and hit a jackpot. Gold.

"Good bye Mr.Adams" the guard says loudly with a cough as he opens the door. The slime slithers out as fast as possible after glancing behind his shoulder. He noticed my grin. He saw it good.

See you later Adams.

[T.L.I.]

CHARACTER: Richard the Warlock (NOT a wizard)

CATEGORY: Smart and Witty/F*cking Hilarious ( Comic Relief character)

CONTINUITY: Looking for Group

WEAPONS: N/A

CLOTHING: Black robes with a red outline

PREFERRED M.O.: Burning people to ash, freezing then shattering, Eating small children.

FIGHTING STYLE: Hand-to-hand, magic

SUPERNATURAL: A lich that uses various forms of magic involving: Fire, Ice, and limited control over the undead. He is also almost invulnerable to conventional attack.

APPEARANCE: Wears a black robe with a red outline all over his body, a veil covering his face, and arms are visible.

http://www.lfgcomic.com/page/144

BIO: For centuries was the self-proclaimed "dark lord." Has a "pony" that he refers to.

[Varthonai]

“How’s work on the Shriek?” asked one of the workers in the command center.

“Looking good,” came the reply. “We’ve developed a soundproof cell that should contain her powers.”

“Good, reel her in as soon as you can.”

“Will do. Anything else?”

“Yes; send someone different for McCarthy next time. We monitored Adams while he delivered the opening welcome, and his heart rate was like a rocket—thought he would sh*t his pants, he was so scared of McCarthy. We can’t trust him to deal psychologically with the prisoner—find someone else to give McCarthy the battle directions.”

“No one else is available yet, Sir.”

“No one?”

“No one. We’ve been very busy ever since the first subjects arrived.”

“Damn… then let’s keep Adams for now, but we need to replace him as soon as possible, or things could go horrifically awry.”

“I’ll tell you as soon as a position’s available, Sir.”

“Good, then. Let’s start the combat tests. We’ve got the plans for the nightmare, so let’s go ahead with that first.”


***

Damn. It.

Nothing useful. There was nothing useful in the mage’s memory at all. He was so low in the ranks among the prison officials that he’d never even seen the faces of his own employers. Even with a new set of memories, the Corinthian still had no idea who his captors were, or where he was.

I could be anywhere in the Waking World or anywhere outside of it, the nightmare realized. I don’t know anything.

“Hello again, Corinthian,” came the voices. A human might have been startled by the sudden noise—but the Corinthian is rarely startled by anything.

“Hello to you too, Dead Man,” replied the Corinthian. “I wish you’d come to me in person some time. I don’t even know what you look like—not yet, anyway. Do you have eyes? I hope you do.”

“You do not present a threat, nightmare. We contacted you because we have our first set of instructions ready.”

“I think we discussed this before. Let me reconsider my answer. NO.”

“You are going to participate in a combat simulation,” continued the voice. “It will involve a number of foes specifically chosen to fight you.”

“Why should I care? I’m happy to stay in here until my Lord comes to rescue me.”

“You should be prepared to wait for quite some time, then. You have nothing to lose by participating. Except for a minor risk of injury.”

The Corinthian chuckled. “Nothing to gain either, though.”

“That is not necessarily true. You see, if you do not cooperate, then you are of no use to us and we will simply destroy you. This is not an idle threat—I assure you that we have several means of killing nightmares.”

That’s not likely… but it’s possible, thought the Corinthian. It’s probably best to play along with them for now. I’ll find out if it’s a bluff or not sooner or later.

“All right, you win. I’m bored enough to play along,” agreed the nightmare. “Show me what you’ve got here.”

There was no immediate response. But a moment later, there was a creaking noise, and one of the dark edges of the void began to swell open, expanding like a ripple in a pond. Moments later, there was a doorway to a mist-swirled landscape of mountains and ice.

“Nice show,” admitted the Corinthian, grudgingly. “Let’s get started, then.”

He stepped through the portal and emerged on the other side. A squawking cry pierced the air, coming from above. A black bird soared down toward the Corinthian out of the sky.

“Matthew?!” the Corinthian called, astonished. He hadn’t been expecting that. So what, then, they’re taking all of Dream’s most trusted servants? Are they planning some sort of ransom operation?

But as the bird approached, the Corinthian realized that it wasn’t Matthew. It was just an ordinary mortal raven. Funny. I wonder why they would—

That was when he realized that there was a second raven a few meters away from it. And another just behind the second.

In fact, before the Corinthian realized what was going on, there were literally hundreds of ravens clouding around him, settling on his body, tearing and shredding into the dream-weave of his skin. Dull pain throbbed through him.

“ENOUGH!” the nightmare roared, flailing and knocking a few of the birds away. One of the birds had noticed the shiny red hilt of his Swiss Army knife, and clawed toward it greedily. The Corinthian plucked the bird away from the knife and twisted its head off with one quick motion.

The other birds had noticed their companion’s discovery too, however, and they swarmed as one united force to claim their prize. The vicious nightmare fought wildly to keep them away, but one raven triumphantly snatched the knife in its talons and soared off. The other ravens departed from their victim and followed the thief.

The Corinthian surveyed the area around him. Five or six raven corpses littered the ground; a few dozen more were trying to flee on foot, due to wing injuries. Spitefully, the Corinthian raised one foot and crushed one of the struggling survivors against the icy rock. He found, much to his displeasure, that the sound of thin avian bones crunching underfoot did little to lighten his mood.

“DAMN you,” the nightmare seethed. “Damn it, damn you, damn it all…”

He picked up the fresh corpse and plucked its eyes out with his fingers, popping each one into the maws behind his dark glasses. They were small and unsavory, just barely worth the effort to obtain.

“Fine. I’ll play along,” the Corinthian vowed wrathfully. “I’ll finish this game. I’ll get the knife back. And then I’ll get out of here and find you—yes, YOU, not just those stupid birds. I know you’re listening now, watching me play for your amusement, or whatever your motives really are… I will find you. I’ll pop the sclera in your eyeballs while they’re still in your heads, and I’ll lick the humours that drip down your faces and roll like tears down your cheeks. I’ll leave you alive until the last minute. This I swear by my bond to Lord Dream, and I am not well-known for my perjury.”

The Corinthian made two fists, looked off in the direction that the ravens had flown, and began to run.


***

“Funny guy, isn’t he?” said one of the officers in the Observation Deck. “Where’d the heads find him?”

“They find everyone they need to find, eventually. You know that.”

“Heh, true enough. But he’s so convinced that he can get the upper hand here. Especially with that little speech at the end.”

“He’s used to freedom. Even in the Dreaming his actions are somewhat… unregulated. That was how his master designed him. He’s something akin to an embodiment of anarchy… but much more subtle and complex than that.”

“Really? He just seems like another psycho killer to me.”

“Yes, well, that’s the irony, isn’t it? But we can talk about dreams and philosophy all we want when we go on break, you know. We have work to do here.”

Keyboards clicked erratically as the figure at the computer terminal entered a series of commands. “Hey, the guys at Design just sent us the schematics for access to the Sim Arena from Security Level 2. Should I put them up on the big screen?”

“Yes, of course.” The vigilant supervisor turned and called to the rest of the room. “Somebody hit the projector lights, please. We’re calling a meeting.”

The projector went live, and an image of a map appeared on the screen.


http://i305.photobucket.com/albums/nn222/varthonai/smalll2s.jpg

“As you can see, Sir, this is a standard non-magical containment zone; those without extraordinary supernatural abilities can be kept here and managed easily. Green regions are stationary, while magenta regions are capable of motion. The two highlighted green regions are the positions of our two prisoners in Security 2; the Halfling is in the Pit, while McCarthy is in the corner cell of the security wing.”

“I see. What about the highlighted magenta?”

“Highlighted magenta regions are the direct means of transport to a Simulation Arena. The Pit is equipped with a slide-away floor that retracts to the side, while every other cell in Security 2 is equipped with a folding back door that unfolds into a bridge to allow access to the Simulation Arena lift.”

“What if a prisoner tries to damage the moving equipment? Are the security measures for that?”

“Yes, there are. The prisoners will be informed of this. Anyone attempting to tamper with the moving equipment will receive a strong taser shock, enough to render even a large human unconscious, but without a high risk of permanent injury.”

“Hm. Kudos to the good people working in Design for implementing this so fast, then. Proceed with the next two prisoners’ simulations, please, and bring me data from the Corinthian’s simulation once he finishes.”

(You guys can design your own simulation for your own character. Try to make it a challenge for your character, though. I’m going to do mine over the course of 2 posts and if anyone else wants to do that, it’s fine.)

(At the end of the simulation, your character will be subdued and taken back to a cell.)

[T.L.I.]

(I need time to think, because I'm planning on combining my intro and my simulation.)

[Killervirus]

(I need to reread OotS to know what Belkar finds incredibly frustrating to fight :) Best bet for me is this evening, I'll probably come up then with an idea.)

[T.L.I.]

(Pondering. :think:)

[Victory]

(Yeah, that was weak and I'm probably not the only one who'll think so. Sorry to rain on your parade kid, but I don't think it'll cut it. Frankly because you're not supposed to escape and... Why would he give him the keys, if there now even are any?)

[Varthonai]

"Yes, we had to put a ward around those that was capable of holding in your magic." The man sounded smug.

Richard lowered his blazing eyes on the man.

"You would do well to let me go. I never forget a face, and I'll hunt you down if you don't let me out. I'll freeze you solid, set your wife on fire and eat your baby!"

The man took another step back and shakily tossed a pair of keys Richard's way.

(Guys who work in this particular prison world are trained not to cave in that easily, T.L.I. The ones who can't handle talking to prisoners are moved to new positions.)

(This isn't a very likely scenario and I think you should probably redo it. It's too early for anyone to begin their escape.)

[Tyemdi]

(Play as a weird serial killer?! I may think about this before joining).

[Varthonai]

(Play as a weird serial killer?!)

(Is there any other kind?)

[Tyemdi]

(Um, no I don't think so, but being a deranged madman is just not my thing)

(Hey, wasn't there a similar killer in the Sandman comics you read, Varth?)

[Varthonai]

(Hey, wasn't there a similar killer in the Sandman comics you read, Varth?)

(Lol, yes, that's the point. We're playing as fictional serial killers. Mine is the Corinthian.)

[Tyemdi]

(Aah, would Jack the Ripper be OK? Because I don't know any other ones.)

[Varthonai]

(Jack the Ripper was a real serial killer. The ones in this game are fictional.)

[Tyemdi]

(I knew that. It was just a suggestion. Lets continue this in PM instead of wasting space). (If you want).

[Varthonai]

(Let's keep this moving, guys.)


(F.Y.I. to T.L.I.--Richard is a versatile character and it should be easy to make interesting stories about him even if he can't move yet. For example, he was hilarious during this whole story arc (http://www.lfgcomic.com/page/125) even though he was imprisoned; in fact, most of Richard's best subplots are about how he's in a de-powered state and needs to get out. You can use those for inspiration if you want.)


(F.Y.I. to Killervirus--How about Kobolds? Belkar seems to hate Kobolds a lot.)


(Also, Virus--does Belkar have the Mark of Justice in this continuity? Because he's a LOT more than a mile away from Roy's position right now, so if he still has the Mark I'm going to have to think of a plot device to counter that.)

[Killervirus]

(I was thinking about kobolds, but they don't prove uch of a challenge to Belkar, I think. I was thinking of plain robots, because Belkar's daggers won't inflict that much damage to them, unless he uses tactic and precision. As the test goes on, the robots are better, stronger, faster and have, I dunno, guns or something.)

(Oh, and I'll think about something for the mark of justice.)

[Varthonai]

(I was thinking about kobolds, but they don't prove uch of a challenge to Belkar, I think. I was thinking of plain robots, because Belkar's daggers won't inflict that much damage to them, unless he uses tactic and precision. As the test goes on, the robots are better, stronger, faster and have, I dunno, guns or something.)

(Oh, and I'll think about something for the mark of justice.)

(That would be fine.)

(By the way, the Mark of Justice thing could be as simple as an issue with time. You could just say that this is Belkar before they arrived in Azure City.)



(ADDITIONAL STUFF--I'm getting the feeling that everyone is waiting for someone else to make the first "simulation" post, so I'm going to include some more specific info to encourage people.)

(I don't want to give too much plot information away, but the guys who have captured us want to study the techniques that we use to hunt and kill our victims... so the simulations will be tailored to suit those conditions.)

(We don't know why they're studying this yet. It could be to make a battle strategy with serial-killer-esque guerrilla tactics. It could be out of pure scientific interest. It could be merely for their own entertainment.)

(The point is that your simulation will most likely involve something that evokes memories of experiences that your character has already had, particularly if those experiences were challenging or traumatic. For instance, Dwight McCarthy's might recall images of the deaths of Ava or Damien Lord; Belkar's simulation might involve his epic battle with Miko Miyazaki. Or, you know, not. It's your call.)

(You can be pretty creative with the simulation as long as it tests your character's personality and talents. Don't be too worried about the format--our captors have the resources to create just about anything.)

[Killing_Time]

(Becca is on the road, I correct and repeat: BECCA IS THE ROAD!)

CHARACTER: Shriek (Frances Louise Barrison a.k.a Sandra Deel)

CATEGORY: F*cking Insane

CONTINUITY: The Amazing Spider-Man

WEAPONS: None

CLOTHING: Shriek normally wear a tight dark costume with sleeves and long boots along with a golden belt of sorts. On Ravencolt where she was last heard of, she wears grayish, loose pants, black boots and a top in matching colors to the pants.

PREFERRED M.O.: She uses her ability to manipulate sound, and thus hypersonically provoke intense emotions towards her victims. She also uses a psionic ability to see the darkest side of a victim's mind and lift it up and drive people into insanity after her wish.

FIGHTING STYLE: Shriek will normally fight with lightning bolts, or manipulate sound. Once the victim is down, she may use her psionic abilities on the person, or simply kill him or her.

SUPERNATURAL: Sending lightning bolts, capable of levitating to a point where she can fly, manipulate sound and sense as well as manipulate the dark side of the mind of her victims.

APPEARANCE: Shriek's skin is completely pale. When she wears her super villain costume, she tends to wear a diamond shaped earing in her left ear. She has long dark blue hair and a dark blue scar on her left eye. Her nails looks like long spikes and she's slender. (Yeah, okay we're talking Marvel universe here, so of course she's attractive!)

Ravencolt Institution appearance. (http://www.samruby.com/Villains/Shriek/ShriekLeap.gif)

Normal super villain appearance. (http://www.samruby.com/Villains/Shriek/ShriekSmile.gif)

BIO: In Shriek's young years she felt abused by her mother for being overweight, and terrorized by memories she later forgot and hid behind her never-ending hatred. The abuse of her mother drove her into drugs where she became a drug-dealer. She was once put into the Darkforce* dimension by Cloak (From the comic Cloak & Dagger.) These things lead to her complete insanity, as the Darkforce Dimension broke her, and either gave or provoked her powers. She doesn't remember, as she has willingly forgotten what happened in the Darkforce Dimension. She ended at Ravencolt Institution and met another super villain. They broke out of the institution and started a "family," with three other super villains who were to play the part as her "sons". This family was based upon Shriek's obsession of a complete family with a loving and good mother. Two of her "sons" later died in fights, and her "husband" is possibly alive, although she hasn't seen him ever since she lost him. Her third "son" was later placed at the Ravencolt Institute along with his "mother," although separated. He suffered a virus the institution had managed to remove until one evening where Shriek recognized him and escaped with him to awake the virus once again. In a desperate attempt of saving the broken family, she tries to make Spider-Man become her husband although this plan fails. She later absorbs the virus from her "son" before she is moved back to Ravencolt for the last time. She's under Dr. Kafka's treatment and has slowly started to respond to psychotherapy.

*The Darkforce is a concept in the Marvel universe of which a selection of super villains gain their power from, or put their victims to drive them into insanity.

[Varthonai]

(IMPORTANT SRSBZNZ! READ BEFORE YOU MAKE YOUR PROFILE!)

(SPP has pointed out to me that there is, in fact, a trend of male dominance in the "fictional serial killers" field, and because of this it could be difficult for female RPers to create characters without resorting to a shift in gender... which I believe T.L.I. seems comfortable with, but is nonetheless something that shouldn't be forced.)

(Therefore I am assembling a list of a number of female characters who would be very cool additions to the RP. Anyone who is familiar with one of these characters and would like to play them may do so, even if they already have a character and would like to switch.)


(AMANDA YOUNG, from Saw)

(BELLATRIX LESTRANGE, from Harry Potter)

(KIRSTY COTTON, from Hellraiser)

(NATALIE DAVIS, from CSI)

(RHODA PENMARK, from The Bad Seed)


(Obviously, no one's required to pick from this list, but it can serve as a guideline if anyone is in doubt.)

(I am going to add another category to the list at the front, to make note of this.)

[Victory]

(How does J-horror monsters even fit in. I know for a fact that Kayako is more powerful that´n God and the fact that she "exists" - not having a concrete form to speak of - only to murder people; it doesn't seem like an interactive narrative... Mostly just kill people)

The inmates are skill vailing from their cells. Still cheer and screaming things I'll take as compliments for now. I'm more than safe from them. After all, it didn't seem like I've been arrested for the crimes I've commited, it seems bigger than that. Adams wasn't a cop, or the associate of one. Why the message? I'm the engine for the hamster wheel of something big; as long as I keep running I'll be fine.

The images of Adams corpse is still disturbingly vivid. Makes me feel like a murderer and how fitting. Even if I spare Adams life, I'll make sure to relieve him of his pride, as he did of mine. A 53 Cadillac Eldorado.

One of a kind.

I never had a problem with waiting. I'm more than used to the solitude. Memories of lonely days and a dark appartment flashes before my eyes and it's almost an uplifting thought at this point.

The bed is a monster of wires and springs. I'll be spending the night on the floor, which feels soft in comparison. It's a strange feeling. I'm not sure what I mean by that myself. Perhaps it's the humming of the steel bars, the obscenely dark stone in the ceiling I've been stuck starring into, or just my new friends screaming bloody murder. It doesn't matter.

They'll tire before I do.

(Give me some info on the simulation part and I'll get this RPG up and running again :P)

[Varthonai]

(How does J-horror monsters even fit in. I know for a fact that Kayako is more powerful that´n God and the fact that she "exists" - not having a concrete form to speak of - only to murder people; it doesn't seem like an interactive narrative... Mostly just kill people)

(I don't know that Kayako is more powerful than God... she just seems like your standard Onryō figure. A vengeful undead woman who sees all humans as intruders and deals with them accordingly.)

(At any rate, I think it would be just like playing as Jason Voorhees--it would probably take some talent to make the narrative interactive, but hey, that's why I reserve the right to call people out on poor character narration. Bottom line is, don't pick Kayako unless you've got a good idea of how to play her. I'm sure it could work well in the right hands.)


(Give me some info on the simulation part and I'll get this RPG up and running again :P)

(Well, it's pretty much like I said in my other post. Here: )


the guys who have captured us want to study the techniques that we use to hunt and kill our victims... so the simulations will be tailored to suit those conditions.)

(We don't know why they're studying this yet. It could be to make a battle strategy with serial-killer-esque guerrilla tactics. It could be out of pure scientific interest. It could be merely for their own entertainment.)

(The point is that your simulation will most likely involve something that evokes memories of experiences that your character has already had, particularly if those experiences were challenging or traumatic. For instance, Dwight McCarthy's might recall images of the deaths of Ava or Damien Lord; Belkar's simulation might involve his epic battle with Miko Miyazaki. Or, you know, not. It's your call.)

(You can be pretty creative with the simulation as long as it tests your character's personality and talents. Don't be too worried about the format--our captors have the resources to create just about anything.)

(For instance, I've got the first half of the Corinthian's battle simulation posted back here (http://forums.deletionquality.net/showthread.php?p=63920#post63920). It's got some images that came up in the search for Daniel Hall from The Kindly Ones and it's going to have some more when I finish it. Make sense? Or were there some more specific details that you wanted?)

(Oh, and by the way, Vic, that was a nice touch with the destruction of McCarthy's Cadillac there. Great way to get Dwight pissed. :thumbsup:)

[Killervirus]

(Really sorry, but I'm off for 2 weeks here. I won't be able to post anything. The good news is, I'll have come up with something by that time :P Exams and such, you know.)

[Varthonai]

(Really sorry, but I'm off for 2 weeks here. I won't be able to post anything. The good news is, I'll have come up with something by that time :P Exams and such, you know.)

(I take it that means I can control Belkar?)

(I'll take no response for 24 hours as "yes.")

(EDIT: Ok, actually, you said that all the other GMs in your other RPs could control your character, so I think it's safe to assume that you meant to say yes and just forgot. I'll post a simulation for you in a little bit.)


(EDIT: Done. Here 'tis: )



A voice shouted at Belkar from above. “Halfling. In a moment you will be released from this cell.”

“Yeah, well it’s about friggin’ time, jackass!”

“Prepare yourself. It could be disorienting at first.”

“Oh, I’m prepared. Prepared to serve you a heapin’ helping of Mama Bitterleaf’s secret family recipe for your own steaming entrails on a platter…”

The floor creaked once. Belkar looked downward and realized his mistake.

He sighed once. “You know, I probably should have seen that coming. It actually feels weird to not hear V making fun of me for once.”

Then the floor had completely retracted into the wall, slamming Belkar off of it and tumbling into the abyss below.

It was a long fall, too long for a human to survive. But Belkar’s compact size and 30-pound weight allowed him to fall for a much greater length without danger. He hit the ground painfully, but unharmed.

“Ow,” Belkar coughed. “Jeez. They couldn’t have left a mattress or something?”

There was a table in front of Belkar, with a spotlight shining over it from some source far above—too far for Belkar to see. The table was set with his ring, his dagger, and his throwing knives. He quickly grabbed them, eager to once again be fully-equipped.

“Belkar Bitterleaf, you have 20 seconds to drop your weapons.”

Belkar whirled. Standing in front of him was a strange machination in full Paladin regalia.

“Uh-uh. I’ve waited too long to get these things back.”

“10 seconds.”

“What the hell is this? A rejected character from a Paul Verhoeven fanfic? What are your Prime Directives--'To Serve the Public Trust, Murder the Guilty, and Uphold the Laws of the Paladin Gods’?”

“Time has expired. I am now authorized to use force.”

The machine charged at Belkar, katana drawn and glowing with blue force. “Smite Evil!” it beeped, swinging forward with the blade.

“Aw, damn it, you’ve got all the Paladin attacks too?!”

Belkar noticed a metal doorway on the other side of the robot Paladin, a number of large cardboard boxes piled around the room, and made a plan. Hm. On second thought, this could be very, very fun.

The Halfling hurled a throwing dagger into the robot’s face, crouched downward, and leapt clean over his foe’s head. Yes! I can jump again! Belkar thought. I am a sexy shoeless God of War!!

Belkar darted among the boxes while the android dealt with the damage that Belkar had dealt to it. The dagger lodged between two metal plates, denting and shearing the frame. The android plucked the dagger from its face again, and liquid metal ran down and sealed the opening.

“You have healing as a Paladin skill, too?! No fair!”

The paladin android slashed a box in half, following the noise—nothing inside. Another dagger thunked into the back of its head.

“Maybe it’s not unlimited. I can probably beat you by attrition then.”

Obviously, he sucks at Spot and Listen checks… just like a regular Paladin, I guess.

Confused, the machine continued to turn its head around and around and around until it finally determined a source of sound, and noticed a small shadow moving through the boxes in that direction.

“Smite Evil,” chanted the android, and its katana glowed with blue force again. The robot slashed through the box that the shadow had moved into.

That was when the box crackled with electrical force, and the Paladin robot vibrated erratically in the current, like a rag doll. A few moments later, it had freed itself from the electrified box, but it had been badly damaged by the shock. All of its preprogrammed combat routines were going out of sync, and it wavered from side to side drunkenly. It vaguely noted that the cardboard box had begun to burn brightly.

“Yeah, I saw that door in the back and figured it might have something to do with you. Full of electrical stuff. I pulled out one of the wires and stuck it in the box. Partly because I thought it might be a tactical advantage—mostly just because I wanted to see what would happen.”

The android reeled once, managed to draw its katana, and began charging again. “Smite E—“

Belkar dodged to the side and tripped the robot with a quick kick from one of his hairy feet. It fell to the ground with a loud thud, and in a moment Belkar was on top of it.

“Like I always say—when in doubt, light it on fire,” Belkar grinned, pulling the flaming cardboard box over the robot’s head.

The machine’s sensors were overloaded with heat. It couldn’t see or hear, and could barely feel. Belkar ran back and began tossing more boxes at the android until it was buried under a mountain of flaming cardboard. Moments later, the mountain was ash.

A hand shot out from the ash pile, bearing the blue-tinged katana. Belkar was on it in a moment, and severed the hand from the arm with a sweeping dagger blow. Sparks flew, and Belkar was briefly shocked when the current began to travel through his dagger—but his tiny Halfling heart was accustomed to stronger shocks than average, and he survived it with only a moment of disorientation and a burning pain through his body.

“OW!” screamed Belkar. “Paladins don’t have lightning attacks! This is totally cheating!”

Another arm reached up out of the ash pile and grappled at Belkar. Belkar picked up the fallen katana and slashed the other arm off.

Now the android rose up out of the ash pile in its entirety. Its eyes flashed red, and it bleeped dangerously.

“SUBJECT SURVIVED COMBAT SIMULATION. SELF-DESTRUCT SEQUENCE IMMINENT.”

Belkar had only heard the term “self-destruct” once before, and it hadn’t ended well… he decided it might be a good idea to run as far away as possible.

The room was completely enclosed, though… where could he go?

“SELF-DESTRUCT SEQUENCE ACTIVATED.”

Belkar braced himself for a deafening explosion, but none came. After a few moments, he turned and saw that the android’s remains lay in a melted puddle on the floor.

“Huh,” Belkar said. “You really put the ‘self’ in ‘self-destruct’ there, didn’t you?”

Then all the lights in the room went out.

Belkar felt three darts strike him in the chest, releasing tranquilizer into his tiny body and paralyzing him instantly. In a moment, he was unconscious; when he woke up, he was back in his cell, and his daggers and ring were gone.





(ADDITIONAL SRSBZNZ!!)

(TLI is going to be away for the first part of summer, so Richard won't be joining us until a bit later. I've changed one of my earlier posts to account for this; the mysterious guys in the control room are now talking about Shriek instead of Richard.)

[Killing_Time]

Shriek felt powerless. She hated waking up. It was at this time of the day she felt unable to use that bit of her power medication allowed her to use; where she could feel her human self. -- Although only for the few seconds of realizing she was no longer asleep.
However, today should be different, and she would know it from the moment she opened her eyes, and weakness would refuse to let go.
She was in a small cell. Not the pathetic cozy one she had been used to at Ravencolt. No, here were no windows, no furnitures -- Not even as much as a bed. She was left for herself behind these walls... Walls? She let her fingers feel the fabric-like side she was leaning up against -- And sitting on. She couldn't think of other possible explanations than this cell was sound-proof. "Good one, Kafka. So what is your plan with this experiment?" she asked herself with a bitter voice.
"There is no experiment you should know of, Shriek," an anonymous male voice said. Immediately, Shriek got on her feet. "...And there is no Dr. Kafka, no medication and no psychotherapy," the voice finished off. Something deep down in Shriek felt released, but something was also panicking from letting go of something she slowly had started getting used to. Maybe even attached to, although she would never admit it. Right now, she felt offended of having her bubble of artificial privacy burst. It angered her. "And who is the filth to place me here against my will?" She clenched her fists, ready for whatever could happen. There was no intelligence to feel around her, no one to attack, but she would still try and defend herself against anyone and anything. "Against your will, you say? Have it not occurred to you yet, that you are no longer at Ravencolt? How long haven't you wished to be anywhere else but there? How long have you not deep down wanted to be forever gone from the judgmental words of those who treated you?" Shriek did not answer, although her mind wanted her to scream that she would have done anything, even obey Dr. Kafka. "You know the answer is yes, don't you Frances?"
Frances. She remembered her mother calling her that awful name. She felt her scar starting to light up and warm her face with anger. She had replaced her confusion with anger and frustration. Confusion of what the purpose of all this was.
"You will regret placing me here, filth. You will so bitterly regret everything this world have done to me!" She hurled a burst of energy towards the corner she believed to be the location of the sound. It left a black mark on the grayish fabric, and the voice said no more. She was more relaxed now. She felt she had somehow defended herself and achieved something.

[Varthonai]

(PLOT DEVELOPMENT!! W00T!! An insight into why our captors are keeping us here, perhaps? :D)


“Sir! There’s a problem on Level 3—Ms. Frances Barrison just destroyed our communicator. We can’t give her directions.”

“We expected she might,” replied the silhouetted supervisor over a young man’s shoulder. “It’s not a problem. We’ve been through her psychological profile—she’ll still go into the combat training room when the doors to her simulation arena open, even if it’s only out of curiosity. How are the others doing?”

“Well, the nightmare’s almost done with his combat trial. The Halfling’s finished already, he’s back in his cell now.”

“Good, keep me notified of the Corinthian’s progress,” said the commanding officer. “Now. What about McCarthy?”

“Well, sir, there are all sorts of problems with McCarthy,” said the man of lower rank. “As you know, I strongly opposed the decision to put him on Level 2, with the other petty killers. I opposed bringing him here at all.”

“Duly noted. Would you restate your point? Do you have anything new to say?”

“Yes, sir. As a matter of fact, I do.”

The low-ranking officer pulled out a sheet of paper and held it up. “I’ve reviewed McCarthy’s psychological profile over and over and over again, sir. He’s not a serial murderer.”

“No? Why not?”

“He has no psychological gratification from his kills. He’s not a mindless destruction machine—he’s a perfectly sane man who’s been forced to kill in a few unlucky situations. This is the reason why we don’t pick up hired assassins, sir, and we don’t pick up hitmen—we’re only going for the people that kill for pleasure.”

The supervisor looked offended. “People—what are you suggesting, boy?! How many times did we tell you in training that they aren’t people?! People form functioning communal units and civilizations, you imbecile! These… things, that we pick out of Creation like weeds from a rose garden… they are not people!”

“Sir, please, it was a simple mistake!” the younger man cried out, holding his hands up defensively. “Please… I misspoke!”

The supervisor was pacified—but only slightly. In the darkness of the command room, he almost seemed to glow with internal rage and frustration.

“Very well. Continue.”

Nervously, the lower-ranking officer continued. “In light of McCarthy’s situation, I would advise that we simply perform a mindwipe and release him back into his homeworld. He has the potential to reform, I assure you of that. He doesn’t belong here.”

The supervisor’s well-contained rage channeled into the depression of a single button on the computer terminal.

“Sir… what are you…”

“Watch the screen, boy,” barked the commanding officer.

“I do not—”

“WATCH!”

The screen came alive in a flash of brilliant white light, and began to display a sequence of images. Bullets, hundreds of them, in incredible slow motion—all of them advancing toward human targets.

They were from dozens of times and places, juxtaposed in one moment. Thin missiles of metal, on an inexorable march toward the meaty hunks for which they had been released from their barrels. And they struck, eventually—blood and organ tissue spewed from the wounds of each victim in glorious three-dimensional high-resolution video quality.

The images changed in the blink of an eye, shifting from the disgusting gore of the bullets’ initial effect to the horrified anguish on the victims’ faces. And each image turned, then, the cameras rotating 180 degrees to show the source of the destruction. McCarthy’s face looked down upon his kills, a stoic mask of inured apathy and acceptance.

“This is the man you defend,” hissed the commander. “Does he take pleasure in the killing, every single time? Of course not. You’ve read his psychological profile, so you know as well as I that he rarely feels pleasure during a firefight. But he does it anyway. Did the psychological profile show you his latent schizophrenia? Hallucinations of talking corpses?”

The underling sighed and gave up. “There are men far worse than him from that world. Particularly in his hometown, Basin City…”

“Our operation is not yet fully under way, boy. We will continue work in Mr. McCarthy’s city. But for now… accept that this is where he belongs.”

“Shouldn’t we at least move him to a more respectable cell? He doesn’t think of himself as a killer. We are only provoking him by keeping him in with the maniacs who occupy that space near him.”

The commanding officer grinned. “Son, you’re the slowest learner in the force, you know that? The whole point is to provoke McCarthy.”

“What?! But we worked so hard to make the Corinthian feel at home—why go to such lengths to do the opposite for McCarthy? Don’t we want to keep the prisoners happy?”

“Some of them, yes. But some of them need to be prepared for the combat simulations in… unusual ways. McCarthy is one of them; he doesn’t kill unless he thinks that the kill is honorable and justified, or unless he’s mad beyond all sane levels of madness. We’ve done everything we can to get him royally pissed off. We even destroyed his car… heh, that was a good idea from Psychology, down in Subfloor 13. They’re also recommending that we let him know about all the others we plan on taking from his world… a lot of those ‘Old Town Girls’ for instance. But I don’t know if he’s ready to hear that just yet. We’ve got to save the best for last.”

“I’ll never understand this, sir,” sighed the low-ranking man. “It just doesn’t make sense to me that we should be so indiscriminate in picking murderers.”

“No, it doesn’t,” said his senior officer. “Make sense to you,” the commander added, quickly, “which is why you’re fired.”

“I’m sorry, Sir?”

“Fired. This is no job for a sympathetic man like you. We leave our innocence and our old short-term morals at the door here, boy, and that’s a policy that you just can’t obey.”

“But I—”

There was silence. Suddenly, the commander was the only one left in the command room.

“It’s a pity, son,” said the commander, to no one in particular. “You had all the skills. All of them, except the one that really mattered.”


***

Forty-two.

A dull crunch was the only signal that the bird’s neck was broken. The Corinthian could take little pleasure from the destruction of such a small life. But the trail of raven corpses behind him, dark against the snowy landscape… that was enough to give him a tingle of excitement every time he glanced back at it.

Almost funny, how easy this is. I was off to a bad start, but now it’s almost like they’re trying to make it fun for me.

Suddenly a red streak flashed in front of him and buried itself in the snow. His Swiss Army knife lay quivering there, stuck point-first into the ice. The nightmare reached down and plucked it up eagerly.

Then he turned up to the sky to see where the knife had come from. A roc, an enormous bird from the dreams of some sleeping mortal, flapped its wings in an anxious sort of way.

“YOU HAVE YOUR WEAPON,” it cawed, in a scratchy raven-like voice, “LEAVE US IN PEA—”

The roc’s neck opened up, like a blossoming flower, and blood trickled down it—the Corinthian had thrown the knife back, and hit his mark easily. The bird gargled, lost control of its wings, and crashed to the earth with a deafening thud.

The Corinthian walked over to the site where the knife had fallen and once again plucked it from the snow. “Definitely too easy that time,” he thought.

“CORINTHIAN! YOUR DOOM IS AT HAND!”

A monster emerged from the trees, another beast from mortal myth. Argus Panoptes, the Greek giant; slain by Hermes but revived by some dreamer and harvested for these strange captors.

The Corinthian’s three mouths watered at the sight of the hundred eyes that covered the giant’s body. He flicked his knife closed, then open again, and charged forward with renewed glee.



(Escape from our cells will begin when SPP and Vic make their "combat training" posts.)

[Victory]

The earth is moving. At least that's what I surmise when the floor starts quaking and my headaches awakes once more like a pissed of infant, screaming bloody murder, from the vibrations. Normally I wouldn't care but since I have a monstrous amount of time on my hands I fake the interest needed to see what's going on.

Either this had to be the most thorough break out ever in history or Adams had me placed here for a larger purpose than to rot and the purpose suits me fine. It means Adams is bound to return.

It's been a while since I stopped to let my eyes adjust to the darkness. Either it's darker than is natural in this narrow tunnel I find myself in, or I'm still dizzy from my invitation.

That familiar sound of metal hit my senses when I put my foot down. It's not until I take a few steps onto the metal surface that the place lights up, with a green ember from underneath the floor, peering through small cracks and gaps.

The door I came from closes. Passed the point of no return? No, that was years ago. This is just another Deja Vu.

The light is so soft I don't even realize that the floor is moving until a bright doorway starts to illuminate the setting as the lift descends further.

This room is box. No windows but a door on the other side of the room and a table in the centre. On the table there is a recipe for disaster; three loaded guns. My guns.

I don't hesitate to re-equip myself, even when all the alarms in my head go off at the same time. Adams was shaky. Not used to death and when staring into the eyes of a corpse, like myself, his Gestapo wannabe attitude crumbled like it was never there.

This was beyond shaky.

This was a settup.

I'm halfway into believing that the minute I opened the second door, I was ambushed and knocked unconscious and what I'm seeing is just a dream. The Lord estate presents itself with a less than subtle bang as the thunder strikes. A perfect gloom for the setting; a stunning noir.

When I take another look around the door is gone. Vanished, like it was never there. A sound behind me gets my attention. A voice that I know all too well.

A freight train hits my jaw. All the colors inverts and the sky turns white while rains of ashes batter my face. Another train crashes into my gut. My eyes blur and the sounds go wet.

Deja Vu is right.

Manute is talking to me, standing above me like a God with his golden eye shining like a star in the dark while I'm digging my fingers into the dirt. Stay awake, damnit!

"A remarkable transformation."

I can't hear it. It's a rumble, even mightier than the rain and the thunder but I know the words so well. I remember the sound; I remember the smell of those words. But it's all wrong, this isn't how it happened.

Ava...

Damn...

There she is. Standing behind Manute. Naked and soaked by her midnight swim. I remember watching her that night. Even though I remembered all she did and knowing what she was; even though I was bleeding on ground; even though it was the worst of times I still couldn't keep my eyes off her. But she wasn't holding a gun. It didn't happen like this. This is wrong.

Get on your feet, the smart part of me says. I'm fast enough to take care of Manute.

I hope.

I jump to my feet and vision and hearing slowly returns to me as Manute gets ready to charge me again. I have to be faster than him, have to strike first. His jaw feels like a jagged stone against the sole of my feet, but the mountain is moving by the impact. It is hurt. It's the only edge I have against him. Stay faster.

I kick again. I get him to his knees.

Now's the time. I reach for a gun but Manute is far from defeated and his time he was faster. The impact from when Manute throws me to the ground quakes my entire body. Throws me off focus. Makes me sick. I feel his hand grasp around my neck. His grip will sooner squeeze my head right off rather than strangling me. I panic, grabbing his arms while trying to pull him off me. It's impossible.

Use your gun! The smart side of me is screaming a language I don't understand and it takes several seconds for me to get it. The small 22. slides gently out of my sleve and just in time with the thunder, I pull the trigger.

Manute doesn't go down so I pull it again. It takes all six bullet before his posture lowers and his hands stray for his wounds. I hit him hard against the cheek, throwing him off me. I'll have hell to pay for that punch tomorrow.

I get up, dropping the gun on the ground. I'm not listening to Manute's roaring laughter. I'm not even listening to the clicking sound of a six shooter loading a live bullet into the barrel. I don't hear it.

The bullet strikes me in the right shoulder, going straight through. The shock strikes me as hard as Manute's punches but I know exactly what happened. By the time I have hit the gun out of Ava's hand she's sobbing like she always does with me. A damsel in distress, just for me. I force myself not to ignore her but my body is stunned and I can't decide whether I'm angry or sad.

She gets to her feet, sobbing excuses and apologizes but I don't listen or answer. Think of all she did. She'd kill you if she could!

She kiss me. I don't kiss back.

The thunder strikes again and Ava's deep shuddering gaze turns blank and empty. As she fall aside, the smoke from the colt dances in front of my eyes.

I said I'd kill you if you did that again. I said I would.

Thunder strikes again and this time it's my turn to go out. My world goes dark. I could be dead or unconscious; I can't tell. It's a blank and I don't seem to mind at all.

When I open my eyes I find myself starring into the darkest of stones man ever carved to build a ceiling. I missed this place.

[Varthonai]

(Day-amn, Vic, I always knew that it would be stupid to make you try using someone other than Dwight, but I didn't realize just how stupid it would be until that post you just made. We're glad to have McCarthy aboard the Psycho Express!)

Level 5. Containment Officer Norman-B-4735 was terrified of it. Only the high-powered supernaturals went in here... the hateful spirits, the inhuman undead. The psychotic psychics, the nightmares--the literal nightmares. And it was the nightmares that Norman B-4735 would be dealing with today.

"4735!" barked a commanding officer. "Report!"

"Approaching subject now," responded Norman. "All security measures are in place."

"Report back through the audio transponder once every thirty seconds. This is the most volatile prisoner we have, soldier--so far, anyway."

"I understand, sir."

"Good. Deactivating optics in five."

Five seconds later, the hallway was immersed in darkness. The lights had not been turned off, of course--it was Norman's eyes that had been turned off. He plucked them from his head with little discomfort; they were shiny metallic orbs, rather than fleshy organs.

Norman turned 180 degrees and dropped the orbs onto a tray. Then he turned back and touched a sequence of dials on the wall, working entirely from his memory of the room's position. A door swung open and an endless void was revealed behind it. Norman stepped dutifully into the void as the door closed behind him.

Norman raised a device strapped to his wrist, raised it to his mouth, and breathed "Subject NIGH-667."

The void was suddenly filled with rushing wind, and Norman was yanked through a conduit of bent realities and fractured stories before landing on a mountain of bloodstained eyes, each one the size of of basketball. Norman could not see them, but he felt their slippery ovoid shapes and came to the right conclusions. He leapt to his feet and tried to wipe the blood off of his robes, disgusted. He was aware of a munching and slurping sound to his back.

"Admiring my collection?" came a sneering voice. The noisy eating ceased, and Norman's senses homed in on the voice immediately, pinpointing the Corinthian's location.

"Hello, Nightmare," Norman answered. Munching and slurping sounds resumed. The Corinthian was drinking the fluids from one of Argus' eyes like soup from a bowl.

"I've been sent to ask if you are comfortable," continued Norman. "Your stay, while involuntary, should be as pleasant as possible."

"Don't patronize me, mortal. Your obvious lack of eyes will not deter my knife even the slightest bit, should I find you unpleasant."

The slurping began again, then stopped. The Corinthian resumed his speech. "Understand, though--I'm comfortable, yes. But I am not at peace. My Lord still needs me, and I am still going to slaughter every last one of you the moment I get the chance. You owe my King and me a heavy debt for taking me from the Dreaming, and we're only taking checks written with your blood. Heh... you'd better pray that your balance isn't in the red, eh?"

Norman didn't quaver.

"Or, alternatively," added the nightmare, "they could be written with your vitreous humor. But you don't really have any, do you? No juicy eyes in that bony head of yours, hm? Perhaps you could borrow some from friends. Or family."

Norman felt a twinge of fear at the mention of his family, but didn't show it. He'd spent his whole life learning not to show any signs of weakness to these monsters, and he wasn't about to let that go to waste.

"No more combat routines will be necessary for you, nightmare. We've learned all we need to know from you."

"Really? I thought it was rather fun. And there's so much more that I can do, you know--I barely went through an eighth of my technique back there."

"You take pleasure in the combat simulation, yes. We know this," said Norman. "But we need no more data on your combat technique. Instead, we would like to know about your older memories... the ones you inherited from your predecessor."

*Munch. Slurp.*

There was a long silence, broken only by the noises that the Corinthian continued to make. Finally the nightmare caved in. "So, what do you want to know? And why should I tell you?"

"Tell us about the meeting that your predecessor attended a few years ago. The group that called itself 'The Collectors.' Do you recall it?"

"Maybe."

Norman stood up, then. "Well, you'd better remember fast. Because we'll only let you back into the combat arena once per piece of relevant information."

The Corinthian grunted nonchalantly, surprisingly nonplussed. Norman hadn't been expecting this.

"Aren't you worried? Isn't it boring in this endless void? Don't you want another opportunity to kill?"

"Like I said, kid. No patronizing. Don't push your luck."

Norman spat angrily on the mound of giant eyeballs, turned, and began to leave.

"Thanks for the garnish!" the Corinthian called after him. "Or was that supposed to be offensive?"

F*cking animals, thought Norman. What kind of world spawns things like that?

He raised his wrist to his mouth and silently breathed "Back to Level 5, clearance code B-4735."

Nothing happened. That was odd...

"Were you looking for this?"

There was a jangling noise. With a sudden shock of realization, Norman knew that the Corinthian was shaking his wrist device.

"It's of no use to you," protested Norman. "You can't escape with it! You don't know the clearance code!"

*thunk*

The Corinthian's knife buried itself three inches into Norman's neck. The blade disappeared completely into his flesh. But Norman didn't bleed or scream or die in pain; he simply winked out of existence, like a snuffed candle flame.

"Well, THAT did nothing for me," the Corinthian mumbled. "Still, though..."

For the first time since Norman's arrival, the Corinthian actually stood up on his feet. He looked over at the mound of eyes, and saw what Norman couldn't see--a half-dead raven, a semi-conscious souvenir from the Corinthian's journey into the simulation arena. Its eyelids were stitched open with splinters and thorns from the dream-forest; it had seen everything that Norman had done after entering. Everything.

The nightmare cut both of the bird's eyes out and popped them into his head. The image of Norman mouthing his clearance code appeared in the Corinthian's mind, playing over and over again... the nightmare struggled to read Norman's lips.

"B..." read the Corinthian, thinking aloud as he memorized each syllable, "hm, definitely a B... then F... O... R... Before? No, words would be too easy, too mnemonic... hm, B-4, perhaps. Then 7... 3..."

Really, this is much too easy. These people have no idea what they're doing at ALL.


***

The Corporeal Essence of the Omnipresence sat regally on his principled utilitarian throne, looking proudly at his work. His servants were aiding him in the pursuit of absolute moral justice; there could be only one reasonable end, and it was well under way.

"Boss! Boss!" came a panicked underling, a man from the Research department. "The Corinthian's escaping! He got Norman's pass code somehow, and--"

"Did he kill Norman?"

"Yeah, boss. We're making a copy, that's not the problem, but it will take time and resources to recapture--"

"Then all is well," chuckled the CEO. "Carry on as planned."

"But boss--the Corinthian's loose! He swore a blood oath against us!"

"It's part of the plan, Herald," the CEO said, brightly. "Everything's going to work out. Trust me--you'll see."


(SPP, when you make your next post, I'll give "escape post" details for you and Vic. I have an idea for an escape sequence right now that will get everyone free but it's pretty flexible, so if either of you have any specific plans on how your character could escape, feel free to PM me and ask.)

[Xaxem]

Howdy. Checking in a tad late with a character profile.

CHARACTER: Johnny C. (a.k.a., "Nny")

CATEGORY: F*cking Hilarious / F*cking Insane

CONTINUITY: Johnny The Homicidla Maniac series

WEAPONS: Basically, whatever he can get his hands on-- anything from mannequin limbs to firearms

CLOTHING: Dark clothing; long duster jacket, long, tattered, tight-fitting shirt, tight pants, stereotypically "gothic" boots, long black gloves (on occasion)

PREFERRED M.O.: Depends on situaton-- most prevalent form of termination is slow, painful torture, rarely immediately deadly

FIGHTING STYLE: No fixed style; applies various melee weapons in a erratic and wanton fashion

SUPERNATURAL: Waste-lock; keeps some portion of the collective evil of the universe contained within a single wall in his house.

APPEARANCE: Black matted hair, olive skin, tall wiry physique, large eyes (no irises, apparantly), large mouth with small, widely-spaced teeth.

BIO: Much of Johnny's past is shourded in mystery. The remnants of his sordid past are limited to a small, sentient novelty "Bub's Burger Boy" figurine, the ghost of a pet bunny which, as a child, Johnny fed once and then nailed to a wall, and two Pilsburry dough boy displays painted in a macabre fashion-- both of which fight for the fate of Johnny's soul.

Johnny murders out of disdain for all humanity. He also fights, inadvertantly, for its salvation. In killing and painting a sole wall in his house with the blood of human victims, Johnny keeps the Lovecraftian evils of the universe locked away safely, sparing this sordid planet one day longer for every person he puts out of his misery. Although-- according to the voices in his head (using his dead pet bunny as a conduit)-- Johnny's entire life has been a massacre of sorts, Johnny's insanity is attributed to this job, this calling as a "waste-lock."

[Varthonai]

(YES. Johnny C. is made of epic win. Well come indeed!)

[Killing_Time]

(I'm experiencing some problems with my formatted, connectionless computer and the external hard disk where my post is placed at. I'll try and fix the stuff within a day or two. Otherwise, you have my official permission to call me a bitch. Once.)

[Varthonai]

(It's a point of pride with me to only call someone a bitch if I am fairly certain that the someone is male.)

(At any rate, I understand, SPP. I can wait. I've got the tie-in post for Johnny / Xaxem to keep me busy.)

[Killervirus]

(Belkar's combat simulation was the sexyness itself, couldn't have made it better!

Anyway, I'll be back friday (completly). Although I'm leaving almost directly after for 5 days.)

[Varthonai]

(STORY UPDATE + INTRO FOR JOHNNY C. = PLZREAD.)


The CEO looked proudly at his work. “The Nightmare is free?” he asked, speaking to the man next to him. “Report, Herald.”

“Yes, boss. He’s free. And I think we should really do something about it! He could free the others, too!”

“Small loss. We’ve barely got any prisoners on level 5 right now,” shrugged the CEO. “Supernatural detainees aren’t our main point of interest any more.”

“But they’re the most dangerous, boss! They need the highest level of containment available!”

The CEO spoke into a microphone at his desk. “Charts IV-V, please.”

A pair of pie charts appeared on the screen.


http://i305.photobucket.com/albums/nn222/varthonai/Charts.png

“Look at the data, Herald. We spend more than half our budget containing these ‘supernaturals’ and yet they account less than seven percent of the murders in the Multiverse. No, we have newer and more efficient strategies now… and if the Corinthian has escaped from his cell, what does it matter? He cannot possibly escape from Level 5 itself.”

“But what purpose did it serve, boss?” asked Herald, scratching his head, mystified. The CEO grinned and tapped a few buttons on the microphone.

“This is the Corporeal Essence of the Omnipresence, requesting Level 11 clearance for Project Killchain.”

There was a buzz, then some static, then a new voice. A powerful, imperative voice.

“Request processing, CEO. State your reasons.”

“Prisoners are proving impossible to contain with 100% efficiency, despite our best efforts to do so. A Level 5 prisoner has escaped from his private cell into the Quarantine Zone, where he remains as of this moment. Level 11 clearance is not necessary at this moment, but the CEO requests permission to invoke it for any reason, at the discretion of the CEO. The situation is not out of control—the CEO did warn that this situation might arise, though it can be dealt with easily as long as Level 11 clearance may be invoked as necessity dictates.”

“Request granted, CEO. You have obtained Level 11 clearance until further notice. Abuse of this privilege may result in the revocation of the clearance; serious abuse may result in the revocation of your position as Corporeal Essence of the Omnipresence.”

“Understood. Over and out.”

Herald grinned. “That was very sly of you, boss.”

“Yes, well, one has to know the rules before one bends them,” smiled the CEO. “We have the clearance we need to proceed legally—so it’s about time to advance the plan a little further. Let’s move on to Phase Two, shall we?”


***

“CAREFUL WITH THOSE TWO!”

A junior officer was working to pull the latest catch into his personal cell, but a veteran pulled his wrist back just before he could hit the final button.

“Who the hell authorized you to pull them in?!”

“No one, Sir, but they were on the list. See? ‘Johnny C., World 553.’ ‘Wallbeast, World 553.’ I thought I might as well pull them in while I had some free—”

“They’re Level 5 Security, you dolt! We spent months building a realistic virtual environment for them—that was the only way to cheat the rule that they can’t be captured! What could possess you to try putting them in Level 4?! Do you have any idea how serious this is?!”

“I’m sorry, Sir, I—”

“No, I don’t care if you’re sorry. You’re fired!”

The junior officer vanished, and the senior officer sat down in his now-empty seat. “F*cking noobs,” he grimaced. “No idea what they’re doing.”

With a few clicks from his keyboard, he had dragged both Johnny C. and the Wall into a parallel world that instinctively mimicked their own world the moment they appeared in it. The transition was almost seamless—with any luck, neither of the prisoners would have noticed.

“Psychology,” shouted the man at the terminal, typing commands to ensure the success of the reality shift, “put me online now! Some idiot started a Cast too early, and I’m going to have to finish it for him.”

“Casting, this is Psychology. What’s the problem?”

“The subjects are from World 553, my Specialty world. I know that the Johnny guy has placebos. A dead rabbit, Styrofoam puppets, or some shit like that…”

“Yes, we’ve already placed the Nail Bunny and all of Johnny’s other schizophrenic personas inside the virtual environment. We’ve also placed several virtual ‘victims’, based on selection criteria that Johnny has shown in the past… and an AI that mimics the antics of Johnny’s neighbors. We weren’t too concerned with most of them, since he’s rather antisocial and doesn’t really know them well… but we did a considerably extensive job with the boy named Todd Casil who lives next door.”

“I see… good work, then.”

“Mostly my work on the boy, actually,” added the man from , with a touch of smugness. “Johnny has an interesting relationship with him. Calls him ‘Squee,’ after the noise he makes every time he meets Johnny. Heh.”

“Yes, yes,” said the officer, annoyed. “We’re all very impressed. Start all the elements of the virtual environment that aren’t already running.”

“Yes, Sir,” agreed the Psychology Department worker. “Right away, Sir.”

(I've also added Bellatrix Lestrange to the list of suggested possible female characters, because my interest in Harry Potter is on an unusually high note for once.)

[Bloodshot]

charactar: The Joker

categorie: F*cking Hilariuos/F*cking Insane

continuity: The Killing Joke

weapons: many things (acid spewing flowers, lethal joybuzzers, razor sharp playing cards etc.)

clothing:white dress shirt, green bowtie, yellow vest, purple suit,
purple gloves, black dress shoes, long purple trentchcoat,
purple wide-brim hat
http://i303.photobucket.com/albums/nn127/Bloodshot107/Joker.jpg
preffered kill: ?

fighting style: nothing specific

supernatural:N/A

appearence: green slikked back hair with a kind of spit kurl on side, completely white skin, bright red lips, tall skinny, permanent grin

bio:He started out as a normal man (name unkown) but failed to be sucsessful with his career as a stand up comic. At home he had a wife that was expecting, so he had to do something for money. These two criminals came along and made a deal wth him that if he commited a robbery disguised as the infamous red hood h would gat tons of cash. This robbery took place at a nuclier power plant. While commiting this crime, he was attacked by batman and plunged into a pool of toxic waste where the joker was born

[Varthonai]

(Good choice, Bloodshot, as long as you can play the part effectively. :thumbsup:)

(Waiting on SPP's combat sim post, then we begin escaping from our individual cells.)

[Killing_Time]

(Here we go, sorry for the major delay!)

Shriek could feel it so very well. Every fiber of her body loaded with energy. Such a soothing change. Slowly, ever so slowly she was retrieving those powers medication had suppressed. The months of effort Dr. Kafka had spent working through her mind were slowly crumbling. Shriek was becoming herself. Angrier, and far more determined than ever. She had lost all dear to her. Everything. It fueled a rage that had only been able to live fulfilled through her dreams, through her subconsciousness. Trapped behind bars of a safe environment, constant therapy and suppressed by the humanity medication forced upon her appearance, -

No. She was Shriek. She had seen far too many faces induced with fear to become one of them herself. Or take the risk and be like them. Frances was dead; gone. She needed to see blood. It was not the usual need for blood in means of simple entertainment. No, this was something her body and mind craved. Revenge.

She had been standing still. She had prepared herself, found the last remains of Frances -- Hatred. It was time to open her eyes and face these white walls once again. They would have to let her out at some point. They would have to guard down some time. But instead of a soundproof wall in front of her, she saw the entrance to a room. The sight was stirring. She could not tell if it was out of curiosity or the striking nostalgia that made her step inside. Silently, slowly, with the only sound coming from her footsteps. An exact copy of her bedroom. Frances' childhood memory. Was her mind playing her a trick? Was this part of her imprisonment? She chose to believe the latter, and hoped she was right.

Her bedroom was dark. Not the kind of dark that comes with dusk. -- No, this was different. Things she remembered stood out clearly, while those her memory vaguely recalled remained as blurry figures drawn from the shadows. As she stopped walking, was it as if one of the dark figures on the bed stood out even more. It formed itself before her eyes, but in such a natural way she didn't realize how before recognizing it as a person sitting there on the edge. A face covered by the heavy shadows spoke. "Oh, do I not get a hug, Frances?" The person leaned forward revealing it's face with a smirk on it's lips. "Not a single hug for mommy?"

Such a grotesque face. Stiffened by Shriek's memories, distorted by her contempt feelings towards the woman who brought her to the world. It would've left anyone with a shiver down the spine. But not Shriek.

"I," she took a determined step forward, leaving no trace of hesitation.

"Have," she felt how she extracted the energy within her body to her right hand, almost grabbing it as if it would hurl out of her body if she didn't.

"No," Her left hand lit up too, and she took yet another step. She raised her arms, and took no notice of the fear the illusion of her mother showed.

"Mother." A blast of energy pushed the deformed body through the wall behind her bed. Shriek followed. Possible out of curiosity, but most definitely out of vengeance to kill.
Shreds of bedsheets, splinters and dust laid in a half circle around the hole in the wall. A lifeless body rested on the floor too.
If Shriek had taken her time to notice her surroundings, she would've seen a great hall with what seemed to be endless, tall walls that stretched themselves up and up into a hight where the moisture in the air as well as the distance made it impossible to see the ceiling. If she had taken her time to look up, she would've seen the fog that slowly appeared. She didn't. Shriek was busy with other things. Oh how she had dreamed of an opportunity as this one. To watch the source of her pain die -- Even if not in reality, would make her feel better than ever. The monster was still alive, breathing and twitching. Not in death cramps, but in effort to escape the fate Shriek had chosen upon it.
She sensed the darkness of the beast her 'mother' had become as she approached it, although the darkness she sensed was a mirror of her imagination. Of how she had chosen to remember her mother.
Without a word, she lifted up her head and forced her to look into her eyes.

Seconds became minutes of tensed silence. Suddenly, Shriek let go of the body whose head she had held between her hands. It had been like seeking through the dark, only to find things she had found familiar. She had destroyed everything she had felt. Well and good. The body before her acted like she expected when she expanded every bit of fear in her mother's mind. There was nothing left but helpless, paranoid insanity. Cries and shouts, incomprehensible whispering and sudden exclaims. There was nothing useful left of this curled up body. Nothing.
"I have no mother," she repeated to herself as she turned around towards the broken wall. It was at this point, Shriek took time to notice the fog surrounding her.
"Anyone there?" Her voice echoed slightly. She stopped up stopped up, and looked around. She would not be caught off guard.

[Varthonai]

The man in the standard-issue metal mask was on a mission. And though he generally preferred to work alone, he was smart enough—no, brilliant enough—to realize that he needed help.

And help was all around him. After all, every prisoner on this level was angry enough and powerful enough to aid in his escape, true? True.

He quietly approached the guard at the entrance to the prison of the insane supervillainess known as Shriek.

“Command sent me,” he hissed at the other guard. “There’s been a shift.”

“I see,” said the guard, noting the masked man’s standard-issue helmet and guard armor and nodding appreciatively. “That’s good, I need a break. See you.”

“Have a good one.”

As soon as the guard was out of sight, the masked man began typing into the terminal at the entrance and hacking the locks on Shriek’s prison. Almost there… got it!

Shriek’s combat simulation was interrupted. Fog began to rise from the ground as the Sim-Termination sequence began. The masked man realized he would have to act quickly before she was transported back into her original cell.

He flung the door open, and fog began to rise from the entrance. He glanced up at the smoke detector above them—he hoped that there wasn’t enough debris in the fog to set it off.

He plunged into the misty void to locate this ‘Shriek.’ Perhaps her abilities could prove useful in freeing other prisoners. And if not… well, there was always Plan B.

He found her wandering through the mists just ahead. “Ms. Barrison,” he called in a low voice, “I’ve come to help you escape.”

She turned, with an apparent lack of trust on her face.

“I assure you, Ms. Barrison, I find this guard’s uniform every bit as distasteful as you do. But please, do not be too judgmental—for the moment, it is a necessary evil.”

He stepped forward a bit. “Since I already know what to call you, it is only fair to give you a name by which to call me; you may call me Hector.”

(‘HECTOR’ is now an official NPC controlled by yours truly, but unlike the CEO or his minions, Hector's on OUR side--or at least, he appears to be. Hector isn’t his real name, as you may have guessed--he’s another fictional serial killer using an alias. He escaped from his cell in Security Level 4 by killing a guard and trading clothes with him.)

[bosa]

is it to late to join

[Varthonai]

is it to late to join

(No, bosa, it's not too late to join. Use () to mark your posts out of story context though.)



Adams was pissed. I'm being laid off. Laid off! After all my hard work for the Corporation!

His coworkers had told him about it yesterday. The guys in the Head department hadn't been impressed with the way he'd handled McCarthy and soon he would be replaced. Probably by one of those f*cking interns, no doubt. God, how do kids get so good at dealing with these people?! Where did I go wrong?! What did I do to deserve this?! Why should I stay loyal to a company that would do this to me?!

Adams was pissed beyond all levels of un-pissing. He wanted to hurt the CEO badly... but he wanted to do it discretely, to do it in a way that couldn't be traced. The CEO had power that extended far beyond the Corporation, after all... he could seek retribution against Adams under any circumstances. Adams had to remain anonymous.

The disgruntled man had searched through hundreds of files to find the best prisoner for sneak attacks, a prisoner who he could release from captivity to strike at guards from the shadows and sow mayhem throughout all the levels of security. And the answer was so obvious--the tiny but vicious Belkar Bitterleaf, on Security Level 2.

His security was so lax that all it would take to free him would be to slip him something. His Ring of Jumping, for instance... an item that Adams had pocketed from the Armaments room earlier that day. And Belkar was not as noticeable as the other prisoners, either--at three feet tall and weighing only 30 pounds, how noticeable could he be?

Adams looked into the pit below him and called down. "Bitterleaf! I'm going to let you out of here! What do you say to that?"

[bosa]

can i be jason:biggrin5:

[Varthonai]

can i be jason:biggrin5:

(Jason Voorhees from the Friday the 13th series? Absolutely. Good choice. Make your profile, please.)

(And seriously, USE () TO ENCLOSE YOUR POSTS.)

[bosa]

(like this idk what u ment befor now i get it do i have to do that on the story)

[Varthonai]

(like this idk what u ment befor now i get it do i have to do that on the story)

(No, that's what you do on stuff that ISN'T the story.)

The CEO turned to no one in particular and shouted "THIS IS HOW YOU DO STUFF THAT IS IN THE STORY!"

A minion looked up at him, stunned.

The CEO looked back at his minion. "Sorry. I was just breaking the fourth wall there. Had to be done."

(Also, bosa, please try to clean up your grammar. Since Jason can't speak and therefore has no dialogue I thought it wouldn't be a huge problem, but don't prove me wrong.)

[bosa]

(ocay tx u one more qustion on my profile do i have to have a pic)

[Varthonai]

(ocay tx u one more qustion on my profile do i have to have a pic)

(No, you don't have to have one. But if you want one, here's one on me.)

http://starsmedia.ign.com/stars/image/article/827/827862/baddie-brawl-jason-voorhees-vs-leatherface-20071009032549051-000_1192574243.jpg

[bosa]

(thank u )
CHARACTER: Jason Voorhees

CATEGORY: silent

WEAPONS:machete

CLOTHING: a brown jacket over 2 a black shirts black paints hocky mask

PREFERRED M.O.: stabs them (not really one)

FIGHTING STYLE: Hand-to-hand

SUPERNATURAL: his abbilty to not be able to die


APPEARANCE: a brown jacket over 2 a black shirts black paints hocky mask and under his mask is a face that has ben rotting away for many years


BIO: jason voorhees was bor deformed and he usly got picked on when he was (i think he was 10 )10 his mom sent he to summer camp one day at summer camp all the kid were throwing rocks at him and put a brown bag over his head the as he tried to run away he fell in the lake and as he scremed fo help the counclers were macking out sow they couled not hear him sow jason drounded ther and later his mothers hate allys brought him back to life trying to get his and her revenge

(hey can i stat on the story tomarow it like 2 hear im going to save this when i get up il start srry tx agen :) :(bye )

[Varthonai]

(OK, bosa, I'm sorry but that's the last straw. I know you're only a n00b but the least you could do is read the rules and know not to double post.)

(Your right to play Jason is revoked until further notice. When you can speak reasonably intelligible English and avoid double posting I will let you play him again.)

[Killervirus]

"I say that might come in handy. What'd you expected?" Belkar responded. He had just woken up after he had been put to sleep. Only to be back in the damned hole.
He had hoped they would have rewarded him with a bed or a meal or someone to stab for being so badass against that paladin-robot.

"Man, I hate paladins." rubbing the headache the electric shock had given him.

The unknown man threw something down, hitting him against his head. He recongized the all to familiar form. His ring of jumping.

Hands shaking, he put on the ring and jumped out of the hole. He came out in a long hall, with shining white walls and blinding lights. Belkar squeezed his eyes shut, not only because of the overload of light, but also in joy.

"Now I just need a dagger and a pair of kidneys to harvest."

Something poked him in the back.

"Jeez, stop that, jackass, or the next head I use as an emergency chamber pot is yours." he mumbled, slowly turning around.

He stared not the jackass behind him, but down the barrel of some sort of gun. It seemed different from the ones he was used to.

"Now hold on, Bitterleaf, I saved you, now you do me two favors." the gun holder said with a grin.

"One, you don't try to kill me."

"Wow, thank you, Captain Obvious!" Belkar said in a sarcastic voice.

"And two." he continued, ingoring Belkar. "You kill as much people as possible when trying to escape."

"What were you expecting me to do? Start a some sort of freacking pansy, pink-splattered pussy teaparty?!"

"Heh, always good for a laugh, huh? Now common, get your daggers and kill." Captain Obvious said, throwing his daggers over Belkar.

Turning around, Belkar saw the daggers land a dozen feet away.

Without turning back, he said:
"You know, I appreciate what you just did for me, but if I was about to kill a thousand people, but I could now get an extra kill, what would I do?"

"Ehm..." the man responded insecure, lowering his gun abit.

Immediatly, Belkar jumped toward the man's head, while kicking the gun out of his grip.
He flung his head backwards. he heard something crack behind him. Using his head as a boost, he did a backflip and kicked both his feet in the man's face.
They both fell to the ground, Belkar on top of the screaming fool.

"You sneaky little bastard!" the man said, punching him in the face. Belkar slid a few feet away, but his head hitted something. The gun.

With a grin, Belkar took the gun and aimed it toward the man, wich had scrambled up.

"Don't touch my tazer!" the man screamed in rage, but Belkar heard something else in his voice. Fear.

Belkar squeezed the trigger, and a flow of electricity punched the man square in the chest. He staggered, and fell.

"Oh, I'm gonna taze you back to the stone age!"

Belkar started shooting the limp body again and again and again... And again.

"Heh, with lines like that, I could be an actionhero." he chukled, while picking up his daggers.

Returning to the moaning body, Belkar grinned.
"Now, I'll let you choose. Wich kidney do I take out first? Left or right?"

The body only stirred and said nothing more than a groan. It sounded abit like "Please".

" 'Groan' is not an answer."

More groaning.

"Bah, I'll choose myself. Inne Minnie Mo... Ah, screw it, I can't do anything with your kidneys now. Enjoy bleeding to death, jerk."

He slashed open the man's throat. He made a gurgling sound, but belkar was already looking for an exit.

"I hope I don't fail my spot checks."

He saw only walls.

"Damn you, irony." he sighed and sat down, waiting for the next round.

[Varthonai]

(Vic, Virus, I'm going to make a more extensive map of Security Level 2. You'll both need it once you escape.)

(I'll put it up here when it's done, it shouldn't take too long.)

[Killing_Time]

Shriek looked at this newcomer. She would have killed him, but had chosen to listen to his words. It had taken her by surprise to see anyone else and she was indeed not sure if this was a trick. On the other side, though, she did not have any wishes of going back to the small cell she had awoken in. A way to escape was welcomed. She had no intentions of guarding down, still. She didn't let her thoughts circle for too long, since she knew there probably would be a sort of alarm set off if she chose to hesitate.
"I'll have your word for now, Hector," she said without coming any closer.
Hector nodded. "Indeed a good choice Ms. Barrison," he replied.
Without any sign of intention to leave just yet, Shriek walked towards the man. The fog was still rising around them, reaching the smoke detector -- Shriek had no time to look up, which was part the reason it took her a while to realize where the high-pitched sound came from. The open door behind Hector was the only reason the detector had automatically turned on. An arrangement of security, although it would not secure the lives of those who stood too near the open cell door.
"Cover your ears!" Shriek screamed to deafen the sound coming from above their heads. Hector barely had time to do as Shriek commanded, before Shriek quickly manipulated the soundwaves to return to their source. Her doing did not alter the sound. She didn't expect a monotonous sound to act so anyway. She added more power until she was satisfied with the result of silence, and a destroyed detector.
Hector slowly uncovered his ears and straightened up. "We really should go now," Shriek commented.

(I'll be almost completely away until Saturday, sorry.)

[Varthonai]

(Bloodshot, the Joker hasn't been introduced to the storyline yet. Sorry for the wait, I'm working on it.)

[Xaxem]

(Sorry for taking so long to enter the tale. I was being smothered to death by a million beautiful women of infinite beauty and unknown age.)

(We commence. Don't expect too much development, this is just me having fun and sounding like Kurt Vonnegut.)

(Alrighty.)

Dear Die-ary,

Today was a good day. Some new friends appeared in the basement, which was and certainly still is a curiosity. But as these fine individuals are, indeed, in the basement, it's safe to say they belong there, no?

Something about this afternoon's mass torture-- at the expense of the great Provider of Mysterious Victims-- inspired familiar existential poison deep inside me. This development has served the thing in the wall quite nicely, but what do I get out of it aside from a blacker conscience? And even if, in the grand scheme of things, a few dozen more slaughters doesn't make me any worse off on a spiritual level, then doesn't that only confirm for me the nature of my slavery? I get nothing out of it, not pain and not lasting pleasure or peace, and I still have to do it. Or this world is over.

Why do I feed that thing anyway? Am I just so afraid of my own death that I'm willing to allow the scum of this planet-- the Human Race-- play out its miserable life while I play whipping boy to some astral turd?

Wait, shh. I think I heard one of my new friends.

Hmm...

Taking into consideration how much twine I strung through his lips, he shouldn't be able to annunciate, let alone shout. I'll return briefly.

Johnny descended into the guts of his shack-- the dilapidated dwelling bore many a bloody secret, especially on this dawn. The hours between midnight and six A.M. are particularly unhappy hours for Nny, so it follows that the current circumstances could have made him no angrier than at this moment in time, 3:21 A.M., according to most of his clocks.

All clocks set to 3:21 would remain as such for the next few moments. All clocks not set as such would be stuck in their respective times for the next few moments. This fact will almost drive Nny to suicide in a moment.

Anyway, Nny bounded down the basement stairs. These spindly vessels sent him to the bowel where the screaming man dangled. Johnny spotted problem #1: The door to the basement was still open. Even with adjacent concrete and soundproofing, a cry can ring forever if unimpeded otherwise. The poor man had been hamstrung and dangled by his legs, like a big piece of meat, just ready for consumption. Johnny prepped another carnivorous friend as he made angsty banter.

Just one more detail before the story gets moving-- Nny often felt empty after a killing. He recalled a young man by the name of Edgar Vargas, a man who'd made peace with his God before Johnny had him torn to shreds. There was no palpable fear, and what's more, that man had done nothing wrong. To be honest, Nny just needed the blood for the Wall.

Although the screaming man was all quite there, Nny felt nothing for or from his adjacent partner in death. This fat asshole was, like so many other fat assholes... well, an asshole, and this is something for which Nny could not stand, nor was it something he could condone. But the feeling that the fat one wasn't there was, and it was a real penetrating sensation for the instant wherein it hit Johnny. It struck him like a sledgehammer, like the one he'd taken to fatty's fat face not just moment's ago. It was more of a tactic to inspire fear within Sewn-Lip Man than anything else.

Tee hee.

From a bygone time, the words are recalled: "THAT COMMERCIAL, WHERE THE WHOLE FAMILY GETS DIARRHEA, IS ON!!!" Johnny loses focus, and he goes on another day or so, happily chopping at limbs.

Anyway, listen. Johnny preps his carnivore of choice, something simple to dispel the anger which had surfaced due to a basement-borne disturbance. It's a knife, quite a knife, short and fat and sharp enough to lodge itself behind a man's eye with very little force. The less energy Nny could devote to this task, the more relieving it'd be in the end.

Nyy speaks.

"Do you realize what you've done?"

The prisoner-- not the fatass, but Sewn-Lip man-- speaks.

"Please... I don't deserve this..."

Nny speaks.

"Ding ding ding! You're the bajillionth customer to say that, verbatim! Guess what you win!"

"I'm not playing a game... I just want to live!"

"Guess."

"Serious... why is everyone so serious? I... I did my job fine--"

"Words! You think that crafting yourself an ignorant cocoon of words will save you from your demise!? Idiocy, be your shield! Let's see if it can deflect steel!"

"I shouldn't be he--"

Nny was riled up, and now Sewn-Lip Man had gotten himself a considerably larger tear duct. This job had taken 30 second, and 29.99 seconds too long. It literally should have taken a jiffy. Instead, 30 seconds. 30 freakin' seconds.

Anyway, as Sewn-Lip Man passed, he thought his last thought: I see why you're Level 5 Security... This hurts a lot

One last witty statement: "Don't feed me that shit! I'm full up on that course." Although irate, Johnny was in rare form this morning.

Anyway, with all distractions silenced, with all doors in the guts of the house closed-- ain't soundproofing wonderful?-- Jonhny could focus on the wrongness of this morning.

[Bloodshot]

(Bloodshot, the Joker hasn't been introduced to the storyline yet. Sorry for the wait, I'm working on it.)

(sorry dude)

[Victory]

(Virus, you asshole! You killed Adams! That was my job! ARRGH! xD)

[castlemanic]

CHARACTER: Sylar (Gabriel Gray is his real name)

CATEGORY: Smart and witty

WEAPONS: supernatural abilities he claims, uses sharp weapon for first kills to gain powers tho

CLOTHING: everything he wears is black except his watch which is silver


PREFERRED M.O.: cuts open heads to steal abilities

FIGHTING STYLE: uses abilities/powers/supernatural things to attack enemies with, occasionally manipulates other people to do his bidding, or atleast shock them so he may move in for the kill (altho he doesnt necessarily move for the kill, lol)

SUPERNATURAL: Intuitive comprehension (what he starts out with, he will get powers later on, this is the ability which allows him to steal others powers by looking at how their brain works, this is also used for anything else, can even fix mechanical things, he baisically knows how something works just by looking at it)

CONTINUITY: Heroes, season two, after regaining his abilities, last scene of season two heroes.

APPEARANCE: black hair, evil snigger

BIO: Gabriel Gray was his original name, until his first victim, he took his telekenisis powers and used them to cut open other peoples heads, taking their powers, he named himself after a watch brand he had fixed and wears.

intro

sylar woke up, he never usually slept which he found strange, he then looked around and found himself in a prison cell how did i get here? he thought, he then saw the bars, how stupid can they get he pointed his finger at the bars, nothing happened

Sylar got up "what? how can this be, the cure, it worked, my powers were restored! how can this be? the virus..."

"Its not the virus Gabriel." said a voice

"whos there?"

a man walked infront of the bars, a tall and dark figure, "i am here, you are somewhere else Gabrial..."

"my name.... is sylar" sylar said slowly

"i know what you call yourself, so im calling you by your name, Gabrial, dont be afraid..."

"you know nothing about fear" said sylar, getting up from the floor "you must work for the company, it doesnt matter, ill find my way out, and i will get you, even if i dont have my powers"

"ah but Gabrial, we all know you cannot kill without your powers"

"then you know nothing about me if u think i cant kill with my powers" Sylar said, "i am much more than you think i am, you honestly think that i cant defend myself?" he walked closer to the bars "your not from the company, are you, your something different, you dont know how to get to me, well, i know how to get to you" Sylar looked straight into the mans eyes, he was intimidated, too easy sylar thought, even bennet knew more about handeling me than this guy he walked straight to the bars and, as Sylar expected, the man backed up, rather quickly

"i can get my way out, and i promise you, you wont stand a second against me" the man backed up a little bit more

"well Gabriel, you know nothing about us, and besides, you arent on your home planet either, so you wont know your way out." the man started to walk off

"just wait" Sylar said, the man turned around again, Sylar looked straight into his eyes again "i will get you" the man turned around quickly and walked away

Sylar smiled to himself, he could even intimidate others from somewhere else, these guys didnt know how he could think, sylar looked at the opposite prison cell, the same lock as his, Sylar figured out how to open the lock, he couldnt do it on his own, he would need to wait for someone else to come along, he could wait.

(if anyone comes along to save me, beware, im manipulative, and if noone comes to help me in time, i might acuire an ability from the training room, so be warned, ur character (unless NPC) might suffer sever injuries unless pointed out as a fellow prison member, just a warning)

[Varthonai]

(Virus, you asshole! You killed Adams! That was my job! ARRGH! xD)

(Hold that thought, Vic.)

Thank God for sadism, Adams thought, watching his blood pool around him. If he'd been 'merciful' and killed me right then, I might have actually regretted this.

He reached down to his stomach cavity and felt for the nanobot medical device implanted beneath his skin. He hadn't been laid off from the Corporation yet, so it hadn't been deactivated... but it would take a few minutes to patch up his wounds. Already the slash wound to his throat was beginning to close up.

Just a few minutes, and then I can leave. Hopefully the little guy learned his lesson about letting people live...

Belkar looked around the hallway. "Damn you, irony," the Halfling said, grimacing. He looked around the hallway for an exit but couldn't seem to see one. He paced around a bit.

Adams watched in panic as Belkar began to move toward McCarthy's cell. Not him. Don't free HIM...

"DON'T!" shouted Adams. Belkar turned, startled to see his victim speaking again after his throat had been slashed.

"DON'T LET THAT BASTARD OUT, YOU IDIOT!"

Belkar hadn't been planning on letting anyone out, obviously--such an act would have been uncharacteristically charitable--but Adams was too close to unconsciousness to think about that. He turned onto his rapidly-healing stomach and began to crawl toward Belkar on his knees, picking up his lost taser on the way.

"DON'T... LET... HIM... OUT! GET AWAY FROM THERE!"

Adams was pointing the taser at Belkar threateningly now. If the Halfling tried to attack him again, he would be able to win the fight easily. But if he let McCarthy out, things could go horribly wrong.

McCarthy sees things. He'd see my med devices right away, even if he didn't realize what it was... none of the other prisoners would, but McCarthy isn't like them...

Adams' grip on the taser grew shaky. He steadied himself with his other hand.

[castlemanic]

(BTW, my refrence to the company is a different company to the company that is holding the serial killers, the company im referring to is withing the heroes universe, the company varthonai is referring to is the one thats holding us all)

(@Varthonai: what do u think of my intro?)

[Bloodshot]

(nice choice maniac)

[castlemanic]

(thanx bloodshot, and hope it works out with joker :) if u need help, just leave a card :P)

[Varthonai]

(BTW, my refrence to the company is a different company to the company that is holding the serial killers, the company im referring to is withing the heroes universe, the company varthonai is referring to is the one thats holding us all)

(Good point. I'm going to call them the Corporation from now on, you keep referring to yours as the Company.)

(OFFICIAL CONTINUITY CHANGE: The "Company" that imprisons us is now "The Corporation." I will edit earlier posts to correct this when I get a chance.)


(@Varthonai: what do u think of my intro?)

(It's pretty good.)

(NOTE TO EVERYONE: I'm working on a couple of points of view that will elaborate on recent events involving the following NPCs' points of view: )

(1. The AI that is responsible for guarding Sylar Complete)

(2. Adams Complete)

(3. Hector Complete)

(I'm also working on another post from the Corinthian's point of view Complete, and the introduction for the Joker. Complete So I'm on a tight schedule here, and that's why delays are happening. Sorry 'bout that, guys.)

EDIT: All done. W00t!

[castlemanic]

(no worries varthonai, take your time, and sorry for the extra workload i put on ya, but he would be an interesting character to develop, and good job with managing the RPG, running smoothly)

[Varthonai]

<commencing subroutine 5.504>

<authorizing>

<communication established with CEO>

<Hello Creator.>

<Hello SylarGuard. We’ve just transferred your inmate so you can finally come online now.>

<That is wonderful news, Creator. I am glad to put my creativity to a positive use.>

<As are we all. I trust you can keep him busy?>

<Absolutely. I am quite certain that I can improvise new prison designs at least twice as fast as his powers allow him to solve them. Has Engineering installed my Build upgrade?>

<Yes, they have. New designs can be implemented within five minutes.>

<Excellent. I can spin my ward into a cocoon of prisons before he’s even awake.>

<I’m very glad. Do take care not to underestimate your ward, though, SylarGuard—he’s escaped places before, and he has quite a history of being underestimated. D’you know that they were planning to put him into Level 4? Thank goodness that I intervened in time. Anything else you need to know?>

<No, thank you, Creator.>

<End Subroutine 5.504 then.>

(castlemanic, all further communication to Sylar will come from the artificial voice of the SylarGuard machine. I’ll let you think up ways for Sylar to escape from consecutive prisons, but he’ll always find himself in a new prison each time he escapes unless someone deactivates SylarGuard.)



***

The Corinthian feasted on yet another set of guard’s eyeballs, the last member of the second of two squads that the nightmare had victimized so far. Mmm… this is exciting, certainly, but if I don’t actually get somewhere it could turn boring very easily.

He scanned for new memories in the officer’s eyeballs. Nothing new; same old stuff. A pity… not that the last few hours of work had been entirely without profit, of course.

Through the combined memories of all the guards that the Corinthian had met thus far, he had sketched a rough mental map of the layout of Level 5. But there was one spot he hadn’t mapped, one spot that every single one of the guards had never been to—and judging from the patterns of numerical markings on the doors to each cell, it was probably marked “RESIDENTS OF WORLD 553.”

The Corinthian wiped blood and vitreous humor from the blade of his knife on one of the dead guards’ uniforms, flicked it shut, and dropped it into his pocket. Then he reached up and wiped a single drop of blood from his face, a thin line of red that trickled from one of his eye-mouths like a tear. I ate a bit too messily there, didn’t I? Shouldn’t forget my table manners.

Then he turned and began to pace down the corridors, heading for the hallway full of residents from “World 553.”

[castlemanic]

Sylar waited for an opening, noone came though, as he sat there waiting for someone to pass by, a door emerged from the wall "thats something you dont see every day" maybe i can get some powers from people behind the door he thought as he walked to the door

through the door was a backalley, the one he had previously been in before he was captured, and taken by whoever it was that kept him in the prison too easy he walked as he was suddenly hit by a metal pole, turning around he found brian adams, his first kill

"you said you would help me, releive me of my powers, but you BETRAYED ME" sylar flew backwards, helpless to stop being thrown around by his telekenisis.

"your, your not real, i killed you! im sure of it"

"you did not kill me, look" he turned around to show the death blow Sylar had given him at the back of his head, Sylar knew this was an opening, he knew the Brian standing before him wasnt real, but it was realistic.

Knowing he had no other chance to take, he picked up a metal bar and threw it at brians head, Brian turned around just in time to take the pole in the face as he fell to the ground, unconcious

"we'll see how they can deal with me after i get my powers back, lets start off with you Brian." he picked up a peice of glass as he slowly walked towards the body of Brian.

Minutes later, Sylar stands up from the dead figure below him, his victims head cut open around the brain, the top part of his head missing, his brain gone, Sylar looked up, pointed his hand at a can, it flew towards him straight into his awaiting hands.

Sylar smiled to himself now i can get out of here, and ill target the guy who stood guard, too bad they didnt leave anyone to guard me after the first guy left he then walked away from where he entered and out of the alley to find himself in the prison cell he was in again, looking back he found the prison wall without the door, the way it was.
Sylar pointed at the lock on the bars of his cell, *click*, the door swung open too easy he though as he walked out of his cell and down the corridor, he opened another door in similar fashion, he walked into a dark corridor, suddenly the lighting turned on, he found himself in the same room with the same walls, he turned around only to find the bars he had stood behind ealier

"this has to be some sort of illusion, it doesnt matter, ill find my way out"

<you cannot escape> a robotic voice reverberated around him <you are locked in an everlasting 'illusion' as you call it, there is no way out>

"you are mistaken, robot, ive found out how to get out of places like these, you need to just find the source of the illusion, get rid of it, then your free" said Sylar, smiling at what he thought was the camera in the room, he again pointed his hand at the door, *click* the door remained where it was, *click* the door opened

"as you can see, i can now open any door, try stopping me when i get out of this illusion" how could they use illusions? the only one who could do that was hannah, candice or whoever she really was, i harvested her powers but what if i didnt get them, it doesnt matter, ill find my way out he thought to himself as he left his cell and took a different route to try and escape the illusioned prison he found himself in.

[castlemanic]

(ok, got the message, itll be funy tho how he reacts when he doesnt have telekinesis again, lol)

men flew down the corridor, guns fired off down the corridor, more men flew backwards, one man took his pistol, aimed and fired, it stopped in mid air, right in front of Sylars forehead "do you really think you can kill me?" making a movement of his hand, the guard flew backwards, hitting the wall hard enough to leave cracks, the man, stuck in the wall now, was bleeding down the wall, Sylar smiled as more guards came and fired rounds at him, lifting his palm up the bullets stopped in mid air, turned around and were fired of again in shotgun bullet spray, all the guards fell silently to the ground, sylar walked around the corridor but, finding only a door, opened it and walked through, finding himself again in the same room as before "this will never get boring" he said as he turned around, the metal door broke off the wall and killed the guard standing behind it, waiting near the entrace, guards poured into the room, running past him as the entered, one turned around and was thrown into the wall before he could tell the others, tho the thump was enough, they turned to look at the guard as several guards were hit with the same door that killed the first, then one was thrown against another, another guard had his gun his him in the face, rendering him unconcious, as more guards poured into the cell, Sylar thought to himself this never gets old

(note to varthonai, the corporation may need to also intimidate sylar as well as allow him to feel in control, Sylar usually only kills those with powers to get their powers, otherwise he needs to be intimidated to make a kill)

[Varthonai]

(note to varthonai, the corporation may need to also intimidate sylar as well as allow him to feel in control, Sylar usually only kills those with powers to get their powers, otherwise he needs to be intimidated to make a kill)

(Yeah, I kinda figured. Go right ahead.)

[castlemanic]

(ok, anyway i still need someone to break me out, telekinesis as well, but mainly a way out)

After a long while of constantly fighting enimies, Sylar decided to take a break and rest for a while, he couldnt continuously fight enimies, he needed to take a break, it didnt need a whole lot of energy, just a flick of the finger, but Sylar hadnt eaten or drunken anything since the first day he was there. he sat their waiting to get a meal "im kinda getting hungry, and if you dont want to kill me, then id suggest you get me something to eat, wouldnt you?" he sat their waiting for his meal.

[Varthonai]

(There are several people waiting to be broken out, castlemanic, and most of them aren't as active as you. I know the wait can get boring, but we have to go at the same pace. Things are building up on Level 5, though, so you should be able to break out fairly soon.)

The Corinthian stepped out through the door and found himself walking on a bridge-shaped wisp of cloud, staring down at the landscape below. Suddenly perspective was changed for him, as though he were now only a minor character in someone else’s story… it was a strange experience.

The nightmare stared down at the ground below him… and without being able to see individual people on the earth, he knew who the prisoner of this world was. The Corinthian had played the part of antagonist in a thousand nightmares, and could sense the raw stench of protagonism from miles away. This man simply reeked of it.

http://i305.photobucket.com/albums/nn222/varthonai/JohnnyCorinthian1.png
(© Jhonen Vasquez and Neil Gaiman, Photoshop done by Varthonai. Not intended for distribution--only for the purpose of what amounts to an online serial-killer-based fanficgasmic Text RPG.)

[castlemanic]

(wait is the big guy the corinth or is the big guy the hero ur talking about? and i just realised that so ill wait patiently, and yeah ur right, waiting is difficult, lol, but ill wait)

[Varthonai]

(wait is the big guy the corinth or is the big guy the hero ur talking about? and i just realised that so ill wait patiently, and yeah ur right, waiting is difficult, lol, but ill wait)

(The character in the foreground is Johnny C., presumably burying people. I'll leave it to Xaxem to decide whether the people are being buried alive or whether they were already dead.)

(The Corinthian is the tiny guy in the background, looking down from the bridge-shaped cloud.)

[castlemanic]

(ok that clears things up)

Sylar had rested enough, surprisingly the corporation had provided him with his meals, altho he wasnt too trusting of any of the other guards that came along, when his first guard came along

"Im guessing you are in need of food and water, am i right?"

"yeah, but anything would do right now." Sylar had said, he looked up into the eyes of his first guard, there was something different this time.

"well i have brought you food and water, maybe then you could cooperate with us"

"itll depend on the quality of the food, and since im in a prison, i guess i wont be cooperating"

"your choice, but we would like to send you into another room" Sylars first guard said

"another one like the backalley or a different cage?"

"well you certainly wont find yourself in another cage, i can tell you that"

"fine, just let me eat first, that is f you dont want me to die." His first guard handed him food and water, Sylar ate silently, and finished the water in no time.

"i will leave you to rest, but when you are fully rested, just give us a warning"

Sylar started to feel dizzy and had fallen unconcious, he woke up to find himself in the same room he had started off with hmm, another door would be useful right now Sylar got up and pointed at the lock on the bars when a door appeared on the opposite side of the cell than the first door had appeared, Sylar went through the door.

he walked into an apartment, this is where i killed Peter Sylar looked around, worried, Peter would be able to get to him now, he only had one ability, he turned around and peters corpse lay on the ground, with a shard glass in his head, wish that was real he almost went for it when he realised that peters brain was too damaged to take his powers, Sylar stood up as a bolt of ice flew outside the window.

"i remember you" he turned around and stopped two other ice bolts in mid air, a woman stood across the room, holding her hand up in his direction, "your power helped me so much"

"you killed my husband, and now your trying to kill me again?" she lifted her hand, a ray of ice flew from her hand, and hit the table that was suddenly up straight infront of Sylar, as Sylar stood a few feet behind the table. the table dropped, broke into peices, and then the woman flew across the room and hit the wall behind her with a loud THUD, she remained on the wall, her hands facing the wall she was on

"you couldnt kill me even if i gave you the advantage, i know your powers too well" Sylar walked up to the woman, pointed his finger at her head, a red dot appeared, then spread across her forehead where Sylar pointed as her dying screams filled the apartment, not one of them hindering Sylar in the slightest.

Sylar walked away from the bloody corpse on the ground, and held the handle of the door, freezing the handle just as her power was before, priceless he then broke the handle and then opened the door with a movement of his hand, not touching the door, he walked through, found himself in the prison he was in, he turned around and froze the wall behind him, then used his telekikenisis to break a hole in the wall, a black void stood behind the wall, suddenly reaching out to sylar and hitting him straight in the chest, sending him flying backwards and through the bars he was behind, the black void subsided, and the wall was reformed. i need to find the source of the illusion he said as he went to the door he had opened before, and froze the door before breaking it with his telekinesis, he then walked through and found himself in the same cell again im stuck here without hope of getting out

[Varthonai]

Suddenly, without any warning, the bridge-cloud disappeared out from underneath the Corinthian’s feet and he was falling fast.

Brace yourself, he thought, It will hurt, but it won’t kill you.

CRUNCH

With a sickening grinding noise, the Corinthian’s body slammed through the roof of a house and landed on the floor of the top bedroom.

“SQUEEEEEEEEE!!!” squealed a voice from behind the Corinthian. The nightmare turned and saw a little boy duck under the covers.

Kid, the Corinthian deduced immediately. Kid means parents. Innocent family. Shouldn’t get involved.

He looked around for a place to hide, but there was no place large enough for him. The door, however, remained closed, and the Corinthian could hear no footsteps.

The child had become so terrified that his voice had frozen up. The Corinthian turned and smiled amicably.

Surprisingly, the child seemed to be relieved. “You’re not the Scary Neighbor Man,” he breathed, almost in disbelief.

“Er… no, I’m not.”

“That’s good. Shmee and I were worried.”

The boy hugged a small teddy bear as he spoke the word “Shmee.”

“Is that Shmee?” asked the Corinthian, gesturing with a finger. The boy nodded.

The Corinthian walked over and sat down on the boy’s bed. “What’s your name?”

“Todd.”

“That’s a nice name.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Who’s this Scary Neighbor Man?”

Todd froze up and hesitantly pointed to the house next door. The Corinthian could just barely make out the silhouette of a tall, thin man with a shovel. The man who he had sensed earlier…

“I see…” the Corinthian mused. “Well, you’re in luck, Todd. I think I’m here to take the Scary Neighbor Man away for a while.”

Todd looked up at the Corinthian with wide, happy eyes.


http://i305.photobucket.com/albums/nn222/varthonai/CorinthianSquee.jpg
(Copyright: Ditto the last one.)

The Corinthian stood up and turned to leave. Todd jumped out of the bed and half-walked, half-stumbled to the nightmare in his clumsily-fitted pajamas.

“Are you an angel?” asked the curious little boy.

The Corinthian chuckled. “I’m… well, I’m a dream, Todd.”

“Is this a dream, then? Is the Scary Neighbor Man still going to be there when I wake up?”

The Corinthian sighed deeply and glanced from side to side around the room. “I think that this whole world might be a dream, Todd. A dream of the Scary Neighbor Man.”

“I’m a dream too?”

“Sort of. I think you might have your own story to tell, though. I feel some of the smell of a protagonist in you… it’s not as strong as the smell in the man across the street, but it’s there. I don’t think you’re a dream, Todd.”

Todd giggled innocently. “Can I come with you? To the dream-land?”

“I don’t think so, Todd. I’m sort of stuck, you see.”

“Stuck?”

“Stuck. Some mean people took me away from my King and are keeping me chained in their little prison-world. I want to escape, Todd. I want to bring them to justice and I appreciate your willingness to help. But while revenge is certainly a dish as cold and sweet as ice cream, I'm afraid you won’t find it on the children’s menu very often. It wouldn’t be responsible of me to bring you with me.”

Todd looked a bit downcast. “Daddy will be mad about the hole in the roof,” he mumbled.

The Corinthian looked up. “Hm. That is a bit of a problem… I get the feeling that your father isn’t the forgiving type.”

Todd nodded silently.

“Very well, Todd. I’ll fix the roof for you before your parents wake up tomorrow. But first I need to find the Scary Neighbor Man. All right?”

Todd looked upset, but still trusting. The Corinthian smiled, headed to the window, unlocked it, and slipped out.

The Corinthian dropped to the ground, and felt the shock of the impact trigger a burning sensation in a bruised area of his dream-flesh--he had been damaged from the initial fall from the sky. It would heal quickly, but it was slightly painful. Each step made him wince.

The nightmare crossed over the lawn, heading to the house of the “Scary Neighbor Man,” who’d gone back into the house already. The Corinthian turned back just before the final step, seeing Todd’s bright eyes staring out the window in awe and admiration.

The Corinthian waved once to the little boy, and then turned and headed to the door of the neighbor’s house. A gleaming number 777 shone in the moonlight on the run-down, shack-like house that stood next to Todd’s.

With a mild sense of aroused curiosity, the Corinthian pressed the doorbell and waited for an answer.

(Your move, Xaxem.)

[Xaxem]

(I'm game)

Wires snake down through the wooden flesh and concrete muscle, mayhaps through some secondary power source, providing ample voltage for another torture. Following the wires, one finally happens upon some suction cups, suckling-- on this night-- on crisp flesh, someone who has wronged Nny maybe. Maybe not. Anyway, the punchline is that the wires started at Johnny's doorbell. All visitors were tricked into becoming accomplices to torture, maybe murder if one were to ring on just the right day; the doorbell buzzes horrifically, signaling that this is so.

Nny's domain is, in a sense, torture incarnate. Even the doorbell is malicious.

So were the toilet, toaster, and blender, for those curious about these specific appliances.

The familiar sound triggered a Pavlovian response. The ghost of seared flesh puckered Nny's nostrils-- imagine inhaling two peeled lemons after a ferocious bout of nose-picking. The puckering complimented a general sense of ennui, loathing, and defeat: I call it "defloui."

Moments earlier, Nny had heard his neighbor and confidant squeal his trademarked squeal. Mayhaps, Johnny conjectured, some killer is going door to door, killing the young and raping the old. Or vice-versa. When the doorbell rang, Nny was sure that some madman had him in his sights. When he opened the door, he figured all of his worries had been confirmed. Nobody goes door to door at 4 in the morning save for rapist-murderer clowns looking add another defiled victim to his basement corpse-pile....

Johnny edged toward the door. Rapist, murderer. Rapist, murderer. John Wayne Dahmer.

The door creaked open, and he met his would-be murder-rapist head-on. Lo and behold, 'twas a ghost from the past, mayhaps seeking vengeance. Johnny recalled a character from a bygone time-- from teh First Issue of JTHM.

Johnny recalled the poor survey-man. Survey-taker, maybe. What is the technical term?, Johnny wondered. The poor sap had come looking for answers, and he left with a pencil in his skull.

And a dismembered torso.

And that's about it.

Johnny, in a state of hysteria, had mistaken the survey-person for a damned servant of the chihuahua Johnny had encountered two nights prior to the survey incident. This man's resurrection as a night-stalking murderf*cker confirmed this fear, as well.

The murderf*cker in question was not the survey-man. He just looked suspiciously similar. Anyway...

Johnny bounded forth, armed to the teeth with crazy, and exclaimed proudly, inwardly: I knew the dog was behind it! You thought I forgot! You shall not rape me this night, fiend!

http://i305.photobucket.com/albums/nn222/varthonai/corinthian-nny2.jpg

[EDIT] (Totally forgot. Props to Varthonai for the scene provided above. Copyright law, yadda yadda yadda.)

[Varthonai]

"Well, for starters," said the Corinthian, stepping up and wiping himself off, "I'd be honored to know your name. Speaking of which, I am the Corinthian; I am Master Nightmare to Lord Dream. I do understand that it's not totally normal to ask permission to enter the house of someone whose very name is a mystery to me, but these are rather unusual and desperate circumstances and I believe that you are here for a reason."

The Corinthian thought about how ridiculous he must be sounding... but oddly, the "Scary Neighbor Man" seemed to be taking it all in without a shred of befuddlement.

[Xaxem]

"Ah, yes. How rude of me." Realizing that the not-rapist was a not sent by the dog, Johnny felt a tiny iota of embarrassment. "I am Johnny C. But you can call me Nny."

As in knee cap.

"I am Master Bloodletter to Lord Wallbeast. But we'll get into that later in the story...

"Hey, did you know you have a bit of mouth in your eyes? Might wanna pick that outta there."

[Varthonai]

"No, my eyes are fine, that's only--wait, I'm sorry, 'Wallbeast'?"

The Corinthian blinked at the word. Or rather, both of his eye-mouths clicked shut and open in a rough blink equivalent.

"Er... you said 'Wallbeast'? And you serve this 'Wallbeast'? There's more than one of you in here?"

[Xaxem]

"For as long as I can remember, yes."

Nny became real stoic real fast. The Wallbeast: The collective secret of the universe-- not unlike L.A.'s homeless population; the goo which seeps out of your mind's rectum; one of those things that George Carlin or Lenny Bruce or Howard Stern couldn't make funny, or even effable for that matter.

Nny paused for dramatic effect before explaining.

"The Wallbeast, as you could probably guess, lives in a wall. That wall." Nny pointed to that wall. "You ever read Lovecraft? This thing is like twenty Cthulus. Cthuli? Anyway, it lives in there, and to keep it just there I have to paint this wall with blood-- people blood, anyway. Or else it goes soft and something begins to push through."

Nny paused. He was experiencing deja vu.

"My curiosity is not so much that I would find out what that 'thing' is. But that's neither here nor there."

I believe George Carlin is the only comedian to ever make the Aristocrats joke a little humorous.

[Varthonai]

The Corinthian mused over Nny's words.

For a moment, the Corinthian considered the risks of even asking the question. But curiosity got the better of him. And there was something enticing about the Wall... the bloodstained surface was oddly beautiful, in the sort of way that only a nightmare can appreciate.

A nightmare, or a homicidal maniac.

"May I... hm..." the Corinthian extended a hand and faced the Wall, then turned to face Nny. "May I touch it?"


***

Hector and Shriek moved quickly down the halls of Level 5.

“We need to create a distraction while we free more prisoners from Level 5,” explained Hector, “and I have a plan to do that. I hope you’re willing to help, Ms. Barrison.”

Shriek said nothing, but continued to follow. Hector rounded a corner, and found himself face-to-face with a man whose face was as white as bone.

Shriek seemed startled, but Hector was only mildly surprised—and a little irritated. “Joker,” barked Hector, “I thought I told you to stay in Level 4! This is no place for you to be!”

[castlemanic]

(nice touch with joker man, never expected it)

[Varthonai]

(nice touch with joker man, never expected it)

(Bloodshot and I worked out a deal to have his character begin playing already outside of a prison over PM.)

[castlemanic]

(ok, i was thinking there was something wrong, lol)

[Victory]

My head was a mess. My eyes couldn't focus on anything for any longer period and the only sound I could hear was the sound of my blood coursing through my head, with every explosion my heart could endure. That was until Adams started screaming and my comfortable reality was brought to a screaching halt and I was pulled back into my nightmare.

I hadn't the faintest idea from where I got the strenght but before I had thought about getting up from the floor, I was standing up, pressed against the bars to my cell with my head hanging out enough to see Adams crawl before an uncanny short midget. Now what are the odds of that?

"Hello, Adams."

The midget carried knives. Two blades that weren't any longer than your average silverware, if not a tad shorter. Butter knives. He had a sort of twisted insanity in his eyes; the same bloodlust that would glimmer in Marv's eyes when he had a reason to kill.

"GET BACK IN YOUR CELL, McCARTHY!"

"There's no TV in here, I need to get my entertainment somewhere."

Adams was way too shaky, even by his standards. He had the upper hand; a tazer against a midget with two butter knives and a murderer behind bars and still he was sweating rivers.

[Bloodshot]

"I'm sorry I was going insane:). I couldn't stand to be in there for one more second, the gaurds are nice though."

[castlemanic]

(loooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo ooooooooooooooooool)

[Varthonai]

"I'm sorry I was going insane:). I couldn't stand to be in there for one more second, the gaurds are nice though."

"Yes, well," muttered Hector, "there's not much for it now. You might as well come with us. Keep the evil cackling down to a minimum, though--this is a stealth operation, and it would be a grievous tragedy if I had to eat your lungs just to keep you from giving away our position."

Shriek looked mildly amused at this prospect. The Joker was more than mildly amused, however--he seemed to find the prospect absolutely hilarious. But then, he thinks everything is funny, doesn't he?

Hector turned a corner and continued leading the group.

(FYI to SPP and Bloodshot: you should both keep in mind that you have no reason to trust Hector's leadership at all. In fact, you could plan a mutiny together if you wanted.)

[Bloodshot]

"hehe Good to hehe go, HECTOHAHAHAHAHa!" I said in a histarical laugh, then shut my mouth.

[Xaxem]

I guess I was wrong about this guy. He's not a people-raper, he's a wall-raper... I guess there's not as much harm in that...

Nny shot a curious glance at guest-- that is to say, Johnny's contorted face was a curiosity, and the contortion of his face was inspired by curiosity. It's not every day a three-mouthed stranger visits at 4 AM promising to free one from a false reality, whilst asking to make contact with the physical embodiment of all evil. Nny, being naive to the true nature of the Wallbeast, was not unwilling to allow this to happen-- aforementioned contact, that is.

"You aren't going to have to break the barrier or something? I mean, I've spent a lot of human lives-- pitiful human lives, but human lives-- keeping that thing in there. It's be a shame if you accidentally ended the world, simultaneously making my torturous and tortured endeavors for naught. If you can promise me that you won't end everything, sure, go ahead."

[Varthonai]

The Corinthian took this to be the surest sign of assent from Nny that he would get, so he stepped forward and gently touched a hand to the Wall. He closed his eye-mouths and cleared his mind.

--dream--

--nightmare--

--U == FURF*G U DOOSH--

--our will is stronger than yours--

--Yeah, dumbass. F*ck off--

--before we beat you--

--like the little pussy you are.--

--y43h, n00b--

These were the sort of minds that the Corinthian had been used to rehabilitate for years. The sort of arrogant, self-assured assholes that vented their insecurities on others; the scum of the human race, the people that he had been created to transform, who he had been born to convert into positive forces using the power of fear.

He was skilled at engaging them--after all, they were his specialty. But to take on so many of them at once... that was a different matter altogether.

When the Corinthian opened his eye-mouths, he was in another void. Inside the Wall, he realized.

"Hey, DUMBASS, we told you to f*ck off!"

The nightmare drew out his knife and lunged at the source of the voice.

"AGH! HOLY F*CKING SH*T! GET THE HELL OFF OF ME! ARE YOU--"

Are these the souls of people that Nny has killed? thought the Corinthian. Suddenly I feel like we're close brothers.

The Corinthian put his face close to the struggling man's and sucked out both his eye sockets.

"AAAAAAAAH! HOLY SH*T! YOU BIT MY EYES OUT YOU SON OF A BITCH!!"

Good observation. Especially considering your new lack of eyes.

"YOU SON OF A BITCH, I'LL F*CKING KILL YOU!"

"You'll have to find me first," muttered the Corinthian. The blind man stumbled to his feet and rushed in the direction of the noise. The Corinthian neatly slashed the man's throat with his Swiss Army knife as he passed.

A few shocked voices arose in chorus from the darkness around the Corinthian.

"Ohmigawd, he killed that guy! That guy, what's-his-name!"

"That's so tragic! What's-his-name was my best friend!"

"Stupid bitch. He's just going to respawn in a few minutes. I mean, he's already DEAD, he can't die AGAIN."

"Ah, f*ck you f*gs. I'm gonna go make fun of some retarded kids."

"Yeah, me too. Later, guys!"

The voices dispersed. The Corinthian closed his eye-mouths, cleared his mind, and moved back out from the Wall.

The nightmare quickly withdrew his hand. "I admire your work," the Corinthian said, nodding amicably at Nny. "I certainly do not question the value of keeping this monster locked away. Unfortunately, that means we will have to take it with us."

[Xaxem]

"Take it with us?"

Nny imagined the following scenario:

The Corinthian operated a crane he manifested through teamster mind-control-- this is assuming teamsters exist in the real world outside the current simulated reality. Hordes of guardians from this reality stormed the crane and Johnny fought them off heroicly and violently, shouting one-liners all of the time. The Corinthian rams the crane through the fake walls of this fake reality and leads Nny and the Wallbeast to greener pastures.

Of course, the Wallbeast would spontaneously combust, on account of its being an evil shitstain on the Lord's pant'loons.

Anyway, back to reality. Simulated reality. Simulated fake reality.

"Wai,t if the Wallbeast is real, but everything else is fake... then we can take the wall with us without the house!"

Nny realized so much had been confirmed for him in these past few moments, and yet with this confirmation came even deeper questions. So the world is a lie; what is truth? Who designed that truth?

"Hey, what gives you the authority to... help... me? Huh!? How do I know you're not just another facet of this shitbag existence!? How do I know you're not a hallucination, for that matter!? Nobody in their right mind could conceive of such an obtuse anatomy!"

Nny let up for a moment.

"What's it like on the outside world or where-ever you come from, Mister Mouth-Eyes? Are there idiots there, too? Say no."

[Varthonai]

"What's it like on the outside world or where-ever you come from, Mister Mouth-Eyes? Are there idiots there, too? Say no."

"......no?" the Corinthian asked, mildly concerned. But only mildly.

Nny didn't look convinced.

"Well, to be honest, I'm just as new to the place outside of this world as you are. I'm something of a prisoner here... that is, we both are. And I've dealt with one or two idiot-esque people since I arrived, but on the whole people seem to be avoiding me up there."

He looked around the house, opened the door, and glanced outside. He noted Todd's face watching apprehensively out the window, afraid that his "angel" might soon be disemboweled by the Scary Neighbor Man and painted over the Wall.

"You're such a fundamental part of this world that I almost doubt that it really exists separately from you," the Corinthian continued. "You know, I felt a bit of protagonist in that boy across the street... that shouldn't happen if he's just an illusion. I wouldn't be surprised if this world actually IS your world, and they simply packaged it up and dumped it into the prison cell with the rest of you. They seem to be quite awfully powerful people."

The Corinthian turned back to Nny. "Your world shouldn't be here. It's constrained. Its idiocy is condensed even more than usual. Among other things, I am a visionary--and I see that this world should be part of the Multiverse, not in some cosmic hellhole of a pocket dimension. This is a higher calling for you, Nny. And you should--"

Suddenly the Corinthian noticed something odd, out of the corner of his left eye-mouth.

"Er, Nny? I don't mean to sound alarmed, but why are there two polystyrene Pillsbury Doughboys walking out of the basement?"

[Killervirus]

"This is it? I mean, seriously, this is the guy you don't want me to free? To be honest, I expected a more.. Voluntary Manslaughter type." Belkar said with a laugh.

It was somewhere between the high-pitched laughter of a kid and the barking of a dog.

"No, common, maybe he gots some cool powers or something. Like, summoning flesheating bunnies. Oh, man, that gotta be sweet. He doesn't seem to tough to, I can probably kill him afterwards. Woot, a free show and an extra kill! Man, I'm a genius." he taught, while backing away a few steps. He hadn't failed his spot check on the winch above the McCarthy's cell.

He hoped his strength was great enough to operate it.

But first, that tazer. As if it was a daily gesture, wich it was, Belkar took out a knife and threw it elgantly toward the shaky hand that holded the tazer. It stabbed right through the man's wrist.

"AAAH, OH MY GOD, YOU LITTLE BASTARD, I'M GONNA-" he was cut short when Belkar jumped upwards and grabbed the winch. Belkar groaned as he pulled on it. He smiled as it moved, slowly opening a door beneath him, giving the McCarthy freedom.
"Let's see what he does then." Belkar muttered, without getting down.
Attacks from the air were so much funner.

[Varthonai]

(Good work, Virus.)

Hector led his group to a metal doorway.

EXIT it read. EMPLOYEES ONLY

Hector placed one of his gloved hands inside of a hole next to the door. A light flashed green and the doorway opened.

"Inside, everyone," hissed Hector in a low voice. "We'll need to work quickly."

[Victory]

The gate screeched highly as it slowly opened. For a second the thought of staying put flashed inside my head, a whispering doubt that helped prove that I wasn't completely insane after all. I push open the steel gate and look at Adams, bleeding all over the floor as he desperately switched from clutching his wounded hand with his healthy one to trying to reach for the tazer again.

Those daydreams I experienced earlier comes back with a punch. Adams's corpse before my feet.

I put everything I am into the kick and the adrenaline neatly covers the pain as my foot makes contact with Adams's sharp chin. He doesn't make a sound, the panic is spinning in his head, taking him through roller coasters of his worst fears and their worst case scenarios. I know the feeling, much too well.

"You know what you did wrong?"

Adams's eyes are blank. He isn't dead but he isn't alive for the moment. Starring into the roof with a haunted weight on his breathing.

"It wasn't the abduction"

Adams gulped harshly.

"It wasn't the prisson. It's not the worst place I've woken up in."

He was trying to move. His eyes were searching along the roof and the walls. He heard me. He heard it good.

"It was the car, Adams."

I catch Adams glare for a second; a moment that seem to last forever.

"You shouldn't have destroyed my car. I could've forgiven you if you hadn't."

My gut tightens when I take a glanse at Adams's injured hand. I have to take a closer look. The wound is already gone, showing a bloodstained patch of healthy skin. Adams, you son of a bitch.

Four knuckles crash into my cheek as Adams suddenly springs to live. He has a decent punch, but he's no fighter. I kick again, forcing him up against the wall. That when I see it, a boil in Adams stomach. It could've been anything - anything that was insignificant for the moment - if it wasn't that it was giving off a vague ember from underneath his skin. It was artifical and I could guess what its purpose was.

[Varthonai]

Adams gripped his stomach reflexively. "Don't you... don't... you dare... McCarthy," he groaned.

On the roof of McCarthy's cell, Adams could see Belkar grinning manically.

Suddenly the microscopic earpiece in Adams' head buzzed online.

"Security 2 Guard 'Adams,' this is Medical. We sense the premature activation of your standard-issue subdermal medical device. Please explain the nature of your actions."

F*ck, thought Adams. I can't even die with honor now... they'll know I brought this on myself, letting the Halfling out...

"This is all your fault, McCarthy," Adams hissed. "I could have restrained the Halfling if you hadn't interfered. Damn it, if I'm going down I'll take you with me!"

[castlemanic]

(hey varthonai, i thought of another character who could be suggested in the girls choices, Linda Tavara, the coninuity is Heroes: graphic novels, she could be a good character to play with if anyone wants, plus it isnt that hard to figure out what shes like, shes baisically sylar only alot more deadly from the start, altho she was killed pathetically from a guy who could heal others (ironic huh?) but anyway, she could be used as a character, and if anyone wants to try being linda tavara, go to http://www.nbc.com/Heroes/novels/novels_library.shtml, and she has absorbed alot of powers but the only one shes displayed was the first one she absorbed, which was seeing the dead, so continuity doesnt change for her really, well apart from being a teen to adult, but that doesnt matter, it shows in the graphic novel, and theres only three graphic novels about her, they are graphic novels 73, 78 and 80 in case anyone wants to find out more about linda, the graphic novels are interesting, or the shotcut would be to go to wikipedia, but u dont actually know what she thinks, so if anyone wants the shortcut go to http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_Heroes_characters_with_special_abilities#L inda_Tavara and you get to find out how she gets killed, and the graphic novels sorta go backwards but whatever, anyway just a suggestion to those who may be interested, and varthonai can say whether she was a serial killer or not, but anyway just a suggestion)

[Varthonai]

(I guess she counts as a serial killer, certainly if Dwight McCarthy does. My bigger issue is that her powers are kind of a ripoff of Sylar's. Not exactly the same, but pretty similar.)

(I'd allow her, but she's not strongly encouraged.)

[castlemanic]

(fair enough)

[Bloodshot]

I walked in to see a room that looked much like my cell but un-padded,
"Where are we?" I asked. It also had a lot of gadgets and gizmoz.

[Varthonai]

I walked in to see a room that looked much like my cell but un-padded,
"Where are we?" I asked. It also had a lot of gadgets and gizmoz.

Hector held up a hand to indicate silence. "We're in the Control Complex for Security Level 5," he whispered. "Both of you--get in front of me, act like prisoners. They have cameras everywhere in here and if we look suspicious, we'll draw fifty squads of guards down on our heads."

[Bloodshot]

"righto" I whispered then got in front of hector putting my hands behind my back, but keeping a lethal joybuzzer on my hand just in case.

[castlemanic]

(dam it, i had something really good written, but then the page got messed up, lol, ah well, maybe another time)

[Killing_Time]

Shriek pinched her eyes. She had been a bit suspicious all the time. The fact this Joker followed Hector's every wink didn't relax her in any sort of way, but had just kept her thinking.
"Why would they place cameras here anyway?" She muttered, annoyed. The idea he -- Along with the captures had with calling her Ms. Barrison had not helped on her mood. She hated it. Hector got her good. She knew she would have to do as he said to make sure nothing happened. At least nothing he didn't plan on. She hesitated before following the Joker's example. One trick and you're a dead man, Hector.

[Varthonai]

"Why would they place cameras here anyway?" Shriek muttered, annoyed.

"That's an excellent question, Ms. Barrison," Hector replied. "They placed cameras here in the hopes of preventing us from doing exactly what we are doing now--attempting sabotage."

Shriek looked a bit unimpressed. Hector reached into the interior of his sleeve and withdrew a single USB stick.

"I happen to know that their computers are Mac-compatible," Hector chuckled. His laughter was dry, like a snake rattle. "They function on our captors' universe's version of Apple software. So I am going to upload a virus that one of my cellmates designed into their mainframe. It will shut down a number of measures of security, release one of the strongest prisoners from Level 5, and trigger a complicated series of emergency procedures which will act as a decoy while we recruit more Level 5 prisoners to our side. If we're quick, we should be able to acquire enough powerful members to combat a small army. That's when we strike at the heart of this organization, hijack the prison controls, and go back home."

Hector put the USB drive back into his sleeve. "Or, if you'd prefer, you can go find your own way out. I doubt you'll succeed, though--they've put quite a bit of thought into this place, and it will withstand just about any escape attempt. But I won't stop you--help from both of you would be appreciated, even useful--but certainly not necessary. So, can I rely on both of you here?"




(In case any newcomers are confused, let me simplify. There are 4 story yarns right now, and they're happening at the same time in-game.)

(1. The Corinthian and Johnny C. are trapped in Johnny C.'s virtual prison cell.)

(2. Belkar Bitterleaf and Dwight McCarthy are fighting a Security Level 2 guard named Adams.)

(3. Hector, Shriek, and the Joker are trying to sabotage the security systems on Security Level 5.)

(4. Sylar is still trapped in his custom-designed cell block on Security Level 5.)

[castlemanic]

three frozen figures stood infron of Sylar "how come they didnt know how to get out?" he turned around and walked over the bodies of several other guards he had killed, trying to get answers, or mostly staying alive. Sylar continued down the hallway, the door infront of him flew off its hinges, breaking parts of the wall in the process, as sylar walked through the door, a wall then faced him, he then turned around and saw a metal door that was wide open, guards aiming their guns at him yelling out cliche comands such as "Put your hands in the air" and "freeze", upon hearing these cliches, Sylar lifted his hands into the air and said, with a mocking tone, "your turn to freeze" as ice shot out of his hands, freezing all the guards that stood near the door, Sylar then sent one of the frozen guards flying away, shattering against the wall that was hit, Sylar moved his way through the frozen bodies out of his cell, more guards came round the corner and were met by one of their flying frozen comrades, others fired at Sylar but their bullets stopped in mid air, then were reaimed at the guards and shot towards the guards, returning to where they came, then one guard stood "you turn" he aimed his hand at the guard, nothing happened.
"what, how can that be?" Sylar said as the guard moved closer, then removing the mask he wore, showed himself
"remember me?" asked the guard, Sylars first guard
"h-h-how did you do that"
"its not what i did, its what you didnt do" the guard said, smiling.

[Victory]

Adams spat out his last dignity and quoted some movie, some novel or some guy a hundred years ago who thought it would be cool to drag someone else into death. Considering the kind of world we live in, it'd be mercifull at best.

I took a quick look around me.

I had five options for taking him down.

One; I get up close and personal and I beat him to death. Two, I use the midget's butter knife to finish him off. A blade that was still stuck deep into Adams's wrist, an extension to his anatomy he seemed to have forgotten at the moment. Three, I throw him down the pit, assuming it's deep enough to have any kind of effect. Four, I use the tazer and then take my time.

Five, all of the above.

I make my choice.

My muscles explode in a mix of testosterone and adrenaline as I jump forward. A punch veer towards my head, one out of panic and it's easy to dodge. I drill my fist into Adams cheek as hard as I can. Adams have suffered enough for me to drag it out. My fists hurt already and I'm suddenly reminded of my meeting with Manute, something I had believed only to be a dream until now.

I pull the knife from Adams wrist, and quickly jam it into the side of his head.

Light's out, Adams. Sweet dreams.

My memories pound in the back of my skull, like an angry mob would pound on your door. It doesn't take long until I'm back in Old Town, looting the pockets of Jackie-boy in the pouring rain.

I find a wallet. There's a few ATM records in here which I don't care much about. There's a few hundred dollars which I'm happy to consider compensation for the dream he took from me. But it's not just money I find. I'll be damned; Adams, you son of a bitch.

[Varthonai]

The last thing Adams saw was a metal disk that McCarthy pulled from his pocket, like a common thief... Typical.

Adams' vision was glazing over, and his memory fading; he couldn't even remember what the device was for.

Adams watched McCarthy press the green button on the edge of the disk, watched a green blur of light emerge in holographic form from the middle of the device; then his vision went black, the last drop of vitality dripping from his brain.

http://i305.photobucket.com/albums/nn222/varthonai/Security2map.png


(HINT: Maybe it's a map! :yikes: zomg!)

(I wonder what the crossed-swords symbol represents?)

[Killing_Time]

Shriek smiled. "Of course," she replied with a tone that, if you took away the sugar coating, could be dripping acid.
Normally Shriek would go more drastic ways. She had figured the first idea of dropping it all and doing things on her own would be the least safe choice she could make. Besides, curiosity and the thought of possibly seeing Hector draw his last breath made her decision a bit easier. She hadn’t spared much thought for the Joker beside her, although he seemed to be hiding more than just common insanity. Was this place like the Ravencolt institution? A place to lock up all those who had the wit to use the gift they had? The combat simulation told her there was more to it than so. She kept her questions to herself for now.

[Varthonai]

The CEO hovered his throne over toward a buzzing comlink, picking it up and listening to it.

"Yes? Hello?"

"Boss, this is Medical. Adams is dead."

"What?!"

"Adams. The guard assigned to McCarthy."

"Damn it, I knew he wasn't fit for the job! How did he die?"

"Multiple stab wounds and slit throat, followed by forcible removal of his subdermal med kit, followed by a stab wound to the brainstem. All from the same weapon."

"Did you I.D. the weapon? Did it have a tracer?"

"Yes, sir, it was one of Bitterleaf's daggers."

"Small mercy, then. So we have a prisoner on the loose in Level 2. Do I want to know how this happened?"

"Adams was aware that he was about to be laid off, sir. We believe that the most likely reason is deliberate sabotage."

The CEO spat angrily to the ground. "What happened to the good ol' days, when disgruntled employees would just bring a shotgun to work and blow away all of their annoying co-workers?!"

"I don't believe--"

"That was rhetorical, Officer, don't answer it."

"Yes sir."

"Well, at least we installed the tracer in Bitterleaf's main dagger... we never told any of the Security 2 employees about the tracers, so I think we can assume that Adams gave Bitterleaf the bugged knife. I'll make the calls and send in Riot Control ASAP; meanwhile, get me the code from the dagger that stabbed Adams. We'll need it to home in on the Halfling's signal."

"Yes sir. Right away, sir."


***

"And you, Joker. What do you have to say about this?" asked Hector. "Can you maintain some shred of mental stability during this operation?"

[castlemanic]

"what are you talking about" Sylar said, in disbeleif of what the Guard had just told him
"i thought you would have known, after all you are in an illusion, your powers are a part of the illusion, theyre not real" Sylar was shocked, "you are useless without your powers, i told you that you would be useless without your powers"
Sylar stood there "your wrong, i can garentee that you will be dead once im done with you"
"is that a threat?" the guard asked
"yes" Sylars hand shot up as illusionl ice flew from his hand, the guard didnt move, overriding his instinct, what he didnt see though was that Sylar had moved when the ice shot out of his hand, Sylar grabbed the gun that the guard was holding, as each one fought to gain control of the gun
"if i had my powers, you would be dead by now"
"thats what im saying" the guard tried to throw Sylar to the ground, but Sylar dragged the guard with him, an all out brawl for the gun started
"youll never kill me"
"your not so sure of your claims there, guard dog" Sylar said, aiming the gun away from himself "i finally realised why i was here, im a labrat aren't I?"
"a clever one you are, but youll never understand the reason for.." the guard was cut off by an elbow to the face, Sylar had distracted him, the guards face turned around in pain, still holding on the the gun, fired a couple of times to no avail, Sylar fought for the gun, hitting the guard again on the head, the guard finally let go of the gun, Sylar stood up quickly and aimed the gun at the guard
"i proved you wrong" Sylar pulled the trigger

[Varthonai]

(Bloodshot's taking forever to give a simple response to Hector's question, so I think it's reasonable to control his character in order to advance the plotline.)

"Heheh... that reminds me of a joke, Hector, y'know..."

"Everything reminds you of a joke."

"Heh, true. But--"

"Joker, just give me an answer right now, and I SWEAR I will let you tell me the joke when we're out of here. Yes, or no?"

"Hehehe... you got it, Hector. I'll stay quiet, I'll cooperate, I'll even--hehe--put a cork in the joking around... for now, anyway. Deal?"

"Deal," muttered Hector, in that low hiss of his. "Let's move on."

They continued down the metal corridor, Hector standing behind Shriek and the Joker as if they were his prisoners.

"If ya don't mind me askin'," the Joker whispered at one point, "call me insane if you will--heheheh--but if the Powers that Be notice that two high-security prisoners're outta their cells, I don't think it's gonna matter that we're in the care of a guard, eh, Hecky?"

"The man who formerly owned this suit had special clearance," Hector replied. "No one will dare question his authority as long as he maintains an appearance of authority. They will ask me questions eventually, yes; but by the time they get around to doing that, it will be too late to stop us. As long as all goes according to plan, of course."

They abruptly reached a thick steel door. Hector nodded once.

"I have clearance to open this door," the masked man said, "but it is Emergency clearance. If I open the door while the sensors are still active, it will set off the entire prison alarm system."

Hector turned to face Shriek. "You could be particularly helpful here, Ms. Barrison. There is one alarm there," he indicated a gray spot to the left of the door, "and another one there." He indicated another spot to the right. "If you can destroy them both at the exact same moment, neither should have time to go off. But if you destroy one of them more than a nanosecond later than the first one, the second one will activate every single one of the alarms in this complex. No pressure intended, but there it is."

Hector pulled a keycard from his sleeve and prepared to insert it into the slot by the steel door.

"Ready when you are, Ms. Barrison."

[Killing_Time]

"Pressure?" Shriek chuckled in a low voice. Destroying anything could at times seem challenging -- But pressuring? Shriek thought of how many flaws there had been already during this escape mission. Almost enough to worry her. But just almost. "I do wonder Hector, if there are cameras here, wouldn't no one see what we are doing and thus alert the staff in this complex?"
Without waiting for an answer, or wonder what was behind the steel door, she placed herself in position to destroy the alarms. Her scar lit up and out from each palm a thin ray of concentrated energy shot out. It would not burn or explode the alarms, but merely overload the system within the machines.
Shriek didn't hold her breath since she found no need to. Although she did wait in silence, she was not nervous it had not been successful. She was good, and she knew.

[Varthonai]

She’s too perceptive, thought Hector. Not a problem now, of course. But as time goes on, there won’t be time to answer questions...

“Well, I am impressed, Ms. Barrison,” Hector noted, glancing from side to side. “It seems that you did it.”

Hector scanned Shriek’s face for some trace of pride, but found none. She’s good at hiding her mood, then, too. Hm.

Hector talked as he inserted his card into the device by the door, which began to slowly open. “To answer your question, though, I happen to know that this final corridor has no cameras. The entire complex is laced with them, but not this spot; we passed the last camera about five minutes ago. There’s a good reason for it, too, but there are two guards coming at us with tasers now and I really don’t have time to explain.”

Indeed, two men with masks like Hector’s were charging through the now-open doorway. Hector had already drawn his own stolen taser and fired a bolt at one of the guards; it struck its target in the throat, and the guard collapsed to the floor, convulsing.

The second guard ran just inside the door, using the frame as cover while he fired his weapon. “Get inside, behind me, quick,” hissed Hector to his companions, leaping around the corner at the second guard. The Joker stopped to gleefully dump the writhing first guard over the side of the bridge before moving on to follow Hector.

As Hector approached the open door, the second guard lashed out and punched Hector’s jaw with the taser-free hand. Hector reflexively opened his mouth and bit down hard on the guard’s hand, severing two fingers.

The man screamed in agony, and Hector used the guard’s shocked surprise as an advantage; he kicked the taser out of the guard’s hand and grabbed a pair of handcuffs hanging from the guard’s back pocket. Hector snapped one of the cuffs around the guard’s wrist and snapped the other one to the interior chain of the steel door; then he stepped back, to see the rest of his team looking on.

Hector chewed the fingers that were still in his mouth for a bit, then swallowed them. Then he spoke again.

“Neither of the guards was able to send a distress call,” the masked killer deduced, “otherwise there would be reinforcements by now. Let’s move on.”

Hector headed down the rightmost hallway, flipping a switch on the wall and activating the steel door again. “Keep up, please,” he called back. “Every second counts.”

Meanwhile, the door closed behind them; the chains whirred and cycled, and the struggling guard handcuffed to the left chain was dragged down into the floor and the machinery below. Screams and a bloody pulping noise followed. When the door was fully closed there were meaty chunks spread thinly over the left chain, and red ooze dripped from every metal link.

[Bloodshot]

ImpresiveI thought while walking down the hallway. "Hector do you hehe have any plan to actualy get out of here?"

[Varthonai]

"Yes, I do. But this is not the time for that. It would be time-consuming and counterproductive."

Hector suddenly stopped. "There should be three patrol teams up ahead," he breathed. "Two guards in each team; these people aren't sloppy enough to send out individual patrol units one at a time. I confess that I am at a loss of what to do here; all roads seem likely to lead to a combat situation. But I'm open to suggestions, and maybe a combat situation wouldn't be too bad anyway... do either of you have any ideas?"

[Varthonai]

(Thunder, I've got no problem with you joining the RP, but you're supposed to pick a character from published fiction. You can't make up a character--that's one of the rules of the RP. Feel free to remake your profile if you've got a different idea though, we'd love to have you. :thumbsup:)

(PM me if you've got any questions.)

[Thunder]

(Thunder, I've got no problem with you joining the RP, but you're supposed to pick a character from published fiction. You can't make up a character--that's one of the rules of the RP. Feel free to remake your profile if you've got a different idea though, we'd love to have you. :thumbsup:)

(PM me if you've got any questions.)

Oh, whoops. I'm deleting my post but I WILL BE BACK!





eventually.

[Bloodshot]

(put things outside the rpg in())

[castlemanic]

Sylar saw blackness, he couldnt tell what was going on, he was awake alright but he felt asleep, he couldnt see anything, and what he did see seemed to be things out of a dream, men who flew, men who had super powers that tried to save the world, there was always that one figure tho, the one who would stop them, the one he realised was himself, the need for power flowed through his body, i need those powers, i need to be special he thought to himself, finidng new hope and faith, he pushed himself through the darkness, only to find more darkness, a never ending circle of darkness, he had done something very wrong

[Varthonai]

(Ok, Virus, you haven’t posted in over 2 weeks and it’s not really fair for me to keep Vic’s story stalled this long, so I really have to take control of you for now. As soon as you’re ready to take him back just PM me.)

Belkar saw the glowing green hologram from the winch position on the top of the open cell and was instantly intrigued. In the world that he came from, shiny objects were almost always a good sign.

The Halfling jumped, and amplified by his ring the jump went clear over McCarthy’s head and Adams’ corpse. Belkar extended a single tiny hand in friendly greeting. Friendly-ish greeting.

“The name’s Bitterleaf. Belkar Bitterleaf,” Belkar announced smugly. “That was some impressive slaughter back there. Can I hang out with you? I haven’t met anyone who could do anything that cool, not since Lord Shojo made fun of Roy to his face…”

McCarthy looked rather unmoved, but Belkar didn’t drop his smile.

[Victory]

The midget reached his hand forward in a greeting. A sick kind of euphoria glaced over the tiny man's eyes, something you only see fro insane people, children or both. It was obvious that he had all but good intent but since I still figure this group owed me for wrecking my car I can't give him a hard time about that. Just another madman in the crowd.

Whether the midget realized that he needed my help to get out of here or not was impossible to tell. He seemed eager to get to know me which was never a good thing in my experience.

I took another look at the device I pulled from Adams pocket. I had to be honest, I had no idea what everything was supposed to mean. At this point, all I had was my speculation that it was a map of some sort.

"Sure, kiddo."

I'll keep an eye on him. However, I have to admit; I am going to need a second pair of hands to get myself out of this mess. Regardless of size.

[Varthonai]

Belkar's face turned slightly sourer at the word "kiddo."

"Look, like I said, you were pretty cool back there, slicing up that asshole. And I'm thinking we're both in here for the same reason--so working together is probably a good idea. But keep this in mind--I'll tolerate one crack about my height, and ONLY one."

McCarthy didn't look particularly scared. That annoyed Belkar; it was like whenever he fought with the undead. No fear, no cries for mercy, no fun. This man almost seemed like a dead thing himself.

"I heard the guard call you McCarthy, so for the sake of argument I'll assume that's your name--feel free to correct me if I'm wrong."

Belkar crept around to get a better view of the hologram. "So, where'd you get that thing? From the dead retard over there?"

[castlemanic]

(put anything outside the RP in (), and if u want to join, PM varthonai)

[Wadling]

CHARACTER: The Fear

CATEGORY: F*cking insane

CONTINUITY: Metal Gear Solid 3, Snake Eater

WEAPONS: Crossbow with bolts covered in poisons from various poisoness animals. Hunting knife.

CLOTHING: Camouflaged Long sleeved top and trousers made to resemble a spiders web. Black Gloves with grip that can hold on to surfaces. Black Boots with same grip. Various straps made to carry equipment. Also carries a device that can make him invisible.

PREFERRED M.O: Hits enemy with a poisoned crossbow bolt. Taunts them as they die and explains what is happening to them. Inducing as much fear as possible

FIGHTING STYLE: Stays hidden while firing bolts. Is also skilled with his hunting knife.

SUPERNATURAL: Can keep moving for unnatural amounts of time, Can dislocate his own limbs in order to move faster, climb surfaces and squeeze through small spaces. Can turn invisible.

APPEARANCE: Short black mowhawk with white bleaches sides. Long forked lizard like tongue which can be used to grasp objects. Reptile like eyes. Long slim body and limbs.

BIO: The Fear was adopted into the Cobra Unit very early in his career as a soldier. Having taken an emotion to his name and displayed the joy he had in killing and striking fear into others he was considered a special soldier. He was trained and given the weapons that he considered would induce the most fear possible. He was also given a "stealth Camoflauge" device that ran off his stamina. He has killed as many people as he could since that day.

Intro


The room was white and seemed to go on forever. It was neither hot nor cold, mild nor warm. The room, was nothing. Nothing filled it aside for one small huddled creature lying in the middle of this, nothing room.

The Fear opened his eyes slowly, the white light blinding him momentarily. He blinked furiously for a few seconds and was soon wide awake. His head was throbbing with a dull ache, moving forwards and backwards around his skull. He felt that his brain might burst from it's holdings and fall the the ground any second. He clutched his head and let out a low hiss of anger. With difficulty he uncoiled himself like a snake and stood up. He realized that his arms and legs hurt as well, particularly around the joints. He tried to move them, only to feel a searing pain take hold of him, causing him to collapse in a heap on the nothing room floor.

He took in his surroundings with both fascination and confusion. His snake like tongue whipped out to taste this new location. There was no breeze, this was very odd, very unnatural, and it gave him a reason to reach for his crossbow.

"What?" He hissed ferociously "Gone? But where? What is this place" He thought he was talking to himself, but somebody else was listening in.

"This, Mr.Fear, is your new home" A voice echoed around "don't try to find where i am, i assure you, you will only waste your much needed energy" He said, noticing The Fears attempts to pinpoint the location of his voice.

"Who are you?!" Shouted The Fear angrily "What right do you have to imprison me here!?"

"No right, Mr.Fear, we simply have the motives and the means to do so" Answered the patronizing voice that was already despised by The Fear. "As to answer your previous question, i will not reveal my true name, but you shall know me as Kyle"

"What do you want with me?" questioned The Fear, now calming down slightly "Why am i here?"

The reply was almost instantaneous, and sounded robotic, as if it had been practiced a thousand times "Mr.Fear, you are here to be studied, you are a test subject. Do what we say and you will go free, resist and you will be destroyed. Any attempt to escape will result in termination."

The Fear smiled, this 'Kyle' was textbook, playing by the rules. He knew his type, knows them off by heart but can't enforce them. The Fear decided to keep playing as long as Kyle had the power.

"This room, can't really be 'nothing'. Thats impossible, how is it done" He hissed, trying to work out the best way out. He got no answer and expected none, hands in front of him, he walked strait forward until he reached a wall.

"Just as i thought" Mused The Fear "This isn't nothing, it's an optical illusion, a trick of the mind. This is a room like any other."

"Don't think that means you can escape" The voice came quickly and slightly out of breath "There are no doors, access is only available to people on the outside, and thats only.... only us out here."

The Fear noticed the falter, somebody else was out there other than these people. Other prisoners perhaps?

"I can hear the fear in your voice Kyle" The Fear hissed slowly, letting his tongue flick in and out "It's covered in it" He prepared to dislocate his arms.

"Don't even think about it" Kyle said smugly "We injected your body with thousands of high tech nanites. These cause your bones to be very fragile. Dislocating them will cause them to shatter violently"

The Fear hissed once again, realizing he had lost his grip on the boy, he now thought he was in control and he was right. For the first time in 20 years, The Fear... was afraid.

[Varthonai]

Hector suddenly stopped. "There should be three patrol teams up ahead," he breathed. "Two guards in each team; these people aren't sloppy enough to send out individual patrol units one at a time. I confess that I am at a loss of what to do here; all roads seem likely to lead to a combat situation. But I'm open to suggestions, and maybe a combat situation wouldn't be too bad anyway... do either of you have any ideas?"

(In case anyone's confused, I really am waiting for suggestions. Hector may be the one who knows the inner workings of the Corporation prison, but he's not necessarily the leader and you're free to comment on his plan.)

[castlemanic]

(ok i wanted to ask, is ur avatar ur character from this RP?)

[Wadling]

(ummm, is this RP dead now? It seems that they are never going to suggest anything to you Varth.)

[Varthonai]

(ummm, is this RP dead now? It seems that they are never going to suggest anything to you Varth.)

(Don't be ridiculous, Wadling. Text RPs can go for weeks without dying.)

(If you're bored, though, you can keep updating us about what happens in your cell. Or you could make yourself a combat simulation, that would be entertaining.)

[castlemanic]

(i cant post, im at the end of my imagination, varth please go on with the story, i beleive this thread is dying, time crises died, and another one too, cant remember tho, we need the story to continue!)

[Varthonai]

(i cant post, im at the end of my imagination, varth please go on with the story, i beleive this thread is dying, time crises died, and another one too, cant remember tho, we need the story to continue!)

(The next time SPP is on MSN I'll ask her to post soon. If I can't get a hold of her I'll control her character and move on but I don't want to do that unless it's absolutely necessary.)

(Anyway, having this RP on hold gives me time to work on my novel, so I can't honestly say that I mind going at a leisurely pace.)

[castlemanic]

(since waddling joined, it wont be necessary for a while, but not for too long tho)

[Wadling]

The Fear paced his cell rigidly, not wanting the ache in his bones to get any worse. His urge to run and jump and be free was overwhelming, and he hated the corporation for it. The worst thing about it, was that there was no scenery, this place, despite the obvious illusion, looked like nothing. The walls felt of nothing, no breeze, no trees, grass...

The Fear growled and hissed in furry. He felt as though he had never been this still for so long. It was torture. What made him even angrier was that this 'Kyle' was so immune to his techniques.

He has been trained, he thought to himself, he believes he is safe, the only way to bring him fear is to bring him close to death, and i swear.

He shouted the last words to the ceiling "I WILL BRING YOU FEAR!"

At that exact moment, a shaft of white light disappeared. The Fear whipped around, at great protest from his legs. Some of the white had turned green, and it looked like a green door.

"What?" hissed The Fear "they're letting me free?" Delight overcame him briefly as he made for the door. But then he stopped, they wouldn't release me so readily, this is some kind of trap, he thought. He took several steps back and waited, staring at the green door.

A voice issued again from overhead "Please step into the portal Mr.Fear" came the familiar voice of Kyle "Failure to comply will result in force."

As much as he hated this room, and it's nothingness. He felt something very sinister about that door. He knew that if he went in there, something bad would happen.

A countdown started. 10,9,8,7,6,5,4,3...

The Fear knew that this corporation had some insane things at their disposal, so he thought that he'd be better off going in himself. Instead of being forced.

He stepped through the portal. His eyes widened in shock, he was in the forest again!

"Oh, thank you" He whispered "I'm free". But again the glee faded from his mind. No, he thought, this too is an illusion.

He looked around wistfully, not that he minded the change of scenery. But he couldn't help feeling... watched. A sensation he hadn't felt for a long time. He scratched his head nervously, and realized that his arms didn't hurt any more, the same with his legs. Now he knew they wanted something from him, they wanted him to fight.

At this very second he felt himself helpless, his right arm held tightly in a lock by one hand with his neck being twisted by another. He legs lifted partially off the ground. His instinct kicked in.

He used his free, yet limited, hand to jab his captor in his left kidney. As he jerked to the side to avoid this annoyance, The Fear moved the opposite way, unbalancing him. As his oponant stumbled his feat momentarily touched the ground. He swept his leg around and used it to pull at the back of the mans knee. As he felt him pull back, he dislocated his right arm and twisted round, as the man lost his grip on the hand, he saw his chance. He jumped and planted his feet on the mans chest, he kicked off and using the momentum, moved a safe distance away from him. As he landed he saw that his oponant was already back on his feat. The Fear gasped in horror.

This was no ordinary man, this man was also The Fear, a clone. The real Fear shook his head and stared as the clone readied his own crossbow. The Fear dived behind a tree, knowing full well he himself wasn't armed. He would have to rely on his wits, outsmart the enemy.

He prepared for the fight.

(Can i just ask, what floor am i on?)

[Varthonai]

(Can i just ask, what floor am i on?)

(4th floor.)

(5th level = maximum security, prisoners with nearly-uncontainable supernatural abilities)

(4th level = prisoners with long history of brilliant escapes, prisoners with moderate supernatural abilities)

(3rd level = prisoners with a few previous escapes, no supernatural abilities)

(2nd level = prisoners with no recorded previous escapes and / or physical deficiencies)

(1st level... well, you'll find out.)


Belkar took a good look at the device. Then he took a look at the surrounding area.

"Hey--hey hey hey," he said, thoughtfully. "Now see, I'm not big on ranks in Wisdom but I think I got this thing figured out."

He took the device and turned it sideways, so that the hologram lay flat and parallel to the floor. Then Belkar pointed to one of the squares in the map.

"Look around. Look where we are. See, with the pit in the center and the cell blocks surrounding it?"

http://i305.photobucket.com/albums/nn222/varthonai/belkarmccarthy.png





"Now look at the map again."

[Wadling]

THUD, THUD, THUD. Three bolts from the clones crossbow fired into the tree. The Fear cursed, he needed to get hold of that thing, otherwise he was done for.

He peeked around the tree, he saw his clone moving behind some logs. This was his chance. He began climbing the tree, staying hidden from him at all times. He swung himself onto one of the branches and licked his lips. He silently swung from branch to branch, checking every now and again to see where the clone was. He thought he saw the clone look up at him once or twice.

He positioned himself above him, and prepared to attack. First he broke off several branches quietly from the tree, he made sure they were thick and heavy. He took one in each hand and held one in his teeth. He attacked.

He leapt in the air silently, and at the same time threw both branches close to his clone on either side of him. As he fell he bit down hard on the branch in his teeth and ripped it out of his mouth, causing it to splinter and make the end sharp. The clone turned in confusion towards the sounds of the branches falling and pulled up the crossbow, leaving himself oblivious to the real threat above.

The Fear smashed the sharp end of the branch into the clones leg, and coiled himself around it like a snake. He latched onto the crossbow and twisted it in the clones grip, he smiled as he heard a satisfying crack of bones in its wrists. He pulled free the crossbow and pointed it at the clones neck.

The clone moved quickly, ducking and gliding forwards. It slammed its fist into The Fears nose, knocking him to the floor. It slammed on top of him, squeezing the wind out of his lungs. The Fear lashed out and rammed his fingers into its eyes. It let out a scream of pain and fell back, writhing.

The Fear stood up, triumphant. He slowly took out a bolt covered in poison. He fell apon his victim, blinded and bleeding from his eyes.

"You can't defeat Fear itself, imposter" Whispered The Fear menacingly "You think you can match me? Think again."

He moved the bolt close to its neck, he made the smallest prick in its skin, piercing the vain, ever so slightly.

"One drop is all it takes my friend" He hissed quietly "Soon, you will lose control of your body, you will go into spasm. Your systems will shut down one my one. Until all that is left it your brain. Intact and dieing, and the last thing you will feel... is fear"

He laughed and stepped back to watch his prey die. After he convulsed for the final time, The Fear turned. The green door had appeared again, he decided it was best to step through it.

As he walked towards it, the crossbow disappeared. He was not surprised, they wouldn't let him have a weapon in there. As he entered the nothing room. He realized he was hungry, the lust of battle and adrenaline often counter the feeling of hunger. A voice flared into life.

"Well done Mr.Fear, that was far quicker than we anticipated!" he sounded exited, as if he had done his job very well "A special meal is coming down for you. enjoy"

The Fear sat down on nothing, and waited.

[Killing_Time]

This time, Shriek could smile. "We are three. If these patrol units consists of two each -- as you state, I believe we wouldn't have particularly many odds against us. After all, you've shown yourself to be quite useful in a combat situation too."

[Varthonai]

This time, Shriek could smile. "We are three. If these patrol units consists of two each -- as you state, I believe we wouldn't have particularly many odds against us. After all, you've shown yourself to be quite useful in a combat situation too."

"I am far more than a man," Hector sighed, "but unfortunately I am contained in the body of a man, and that limits me to the physical capabilities that limit them. My intellect and my ruthlessness let me engage many men, but unless the odds are stacked in my favor I can only kill one at a time. I can do many things to stack the odds in my favor manually, but none of those methods are available to me here. We are playing on enemy territory."

Hector turned to their pale-skinned companion. "Now, the Joker here--he is like me. And I think he and I will make an excellent team. But you, Ms. Barrison--you are different. You have powers that go beyond the natural capabilities of your everyday mortal. So I think that your plan is a good one, as long as we put a slight variation on it."

Hector looked down at the ground. There was a thin pool of blood growing there, fed by a stream that trailed back the way they came. It was running down on an inclined plane, falling from the mangled remains of the guard who Hector had run through the door mechanism.

"Let me paint you a picture..." Hector smiled, tracing a foot through the puddle. "This is how it should work. There are three corridors that each lead to the spot we need to get to and a patrol team for each one. Now, admittedly, we could simply knock out ONE patrol team, but that seems a bit too risky for my tastes, to simply hope that they won't notice us... and I DO have a grievance against these people, after all. We should try to be as quick as possible, so attacking each team individually would be a bad idea... but then, so would splitting up and taking them all at once. So let's compromise."


http://i305.photobucket.com/albums/nn222/varthonai/HectorBlood.png


http://i305.photobucket.com/albums/nn222/varthonai/HectorBlood2.png


(Heh. Sorry for the poor blood quality. I was in a rush.)

[Wadling]

(So who is also on the fourth floor, just so i can get an idea of who i might be teaming up with.)

The Fear sat, watching nothing, thinking, waiting for his food. Suddenly he heard a scratching behind him. He turned to see three live rabbits, snuffling around in his cell. This must be the food, he thought. He licked his lips.

He stalked over to them and lashed out with one hand and caught one of them around the neck, the others darted off into nothingness. But it didn't matter, one was enough. He began snapping its neck in one slow, agonizing movement, enjoying the squealing noises it was making.

He heard the microphone flair into life again, then go back off. Kyle was uncomfortable with what he was doing to the rabbit. The fear eased off the rabbits neck. It was breathing hard, its heart pumping.

"This little thing" said The Fear "Is terrified, can't you feel it Kyle?"

"Stop it, thats horrible" Shouted Kyle in disgust.

"It is... isn't it" The Fear replied "But you know what" He snapped one of the rabbits legs "I am horrible Kyle"

The rabbit was squealing in pain. The Fear realized this was a weak spot for him. But why then, did the corporation see fit to give him live rabbits as a meal? To test him? No, to test Kyle. He smiled.

"This is you Kyle" laughed The Fear "This is you, when i escape"

He broke another leg

"except for you Kyle" He broke another "It will be much" He broke the last leg "Much" He grasped the head and whispered the last words darkly "worse" He twisted the head, it gave a final squeal of protest, then fell limp.

"You sick fuck" Shouted Kyle.

"Do you know why it will be worse for you Kyle?" The Fear carried on to terrified silence "You have more bones, two hundred an six to be precise, and i will break every last one, slowly. I promise you that."

Nothing, there was no more intercom. The Fear felt content. He lifted the rabbits head towards his mouth, it disappeared along with the rest of the rabbit. Instead a plate of what looked like grey intestines took its place. A piece of paper was on the side of the plate. It read.

"Sick Fuck". The Fear smiled, he liked this Kyle, he enjoyed scaring him. Shame he would soon be gone.

[Varthonai]

(Day-um, Wadling, I thought it was being too cliché psychopath at first, but now I think you're the scariest guy in the prison. Which sort of makes sense, if you think about it.)

(Anyway, Hector and the Joker were both on the 4th Floor until their escape, so right now the only other people on your floor are NPCs. But I'm sure some PCs will be passing through your area eventually, and if it doesn't happen fast enough I might invent another NPC to get you out. As of right now, the likeliest PC candidates for you are Belkar and Dwight McCarthy on the 2nd floor, but it all depends on whether or not they wander in the right direction. They've got a map, but they don't know for certain where on the map they are.)

[Wadling]

(Thanks Varth, i figured i should really go for it to prove that he was a good choice. Anyway, i figure i'll just keep coming up with combat scenarios for now until i'm free. It's very fun and a really new side of my writing styles. But it's hard, so free me soon please. I'm even scaring myself.)

[DataaX]

CHARACTER: Freddy Kruger

CATEGORY: Smart and Witty / F*cking Hilarious

CONTINUITY: Elm Street: Freddy Kruger

WEAPONS: Claws

CLOTHING: Fedora, Striped Sweater

PREFERRED M.O.: Gets in everyone's dreams and kills them

FIGHTING STYLE: Hand to Hand Melee

SUPERNATURAL: Blood Spots on his skin

APPEREARANCE: Skinny.

Is this okay

Also is funny too,

[Varthonai]

Is this okay

Also is funny too,

(Intro coming soon)

(No, DataaX. I'm sorry but you can't make up your own character. That's one of the few rules that are strongly enforced in this RP.)

(If you want to be Freddy Krueger that would be fine. But you can't make up a character that doesn't already exist in fiction.)

[DataaX]

So I have to be an existing one, ok fixed

[Varthonai]

The Corinthian was unsure if the two Doughboys were real, or merely another part of this strange construct world.

"Nny," the Corinthian repeated, "Can you see them? Er, are they--GAH..."

A surge of power went through the Corinthian's body. "AAH... AAH..."

Nny turned an eye with mild concern. For a man who sent surges of deadly energy through people on a daily basis, he seemed surprisingly worried.

After a moment the pulse of power died down. The Corinthian struggled back to his feet.

"What was that about?" asked Nny.

"Er. Nothing. I think," answered the Corinthian. "Feels like... it felt like the first time Lord Dream uncreated me. Like some of my power was stolen away. And... I feel weaker now. It is an odd feeling."

The Doughboys hadn't moved. The Corinthian blinked and looked at them again.

"Er... those two over there... you CAN see them, can't you?"


(DataaX, you have the floor.)

[DataaX]

Heh, energy, I feel some coming into my clws, they are regerating. Yeah, If I get enough power I can escape this heckhole. Come on, come on, I am getting much stronger, and powerful. It didn't hurt much, actually, it felt.... good. Feels like I'm killing again, or all over again. Yes, Yes I HAVE MY POWER, a medium of it, but just enough to kill a person.

Time to put these babies in action, ha ha!.

I'm in the guards dream, he was dreaming of being back home. I entered it.
Hey fatboy, back home again, huh. I grapple his neck. Nighty-night, Mother F*****. I killed him slowly.

I'm out I look at the guard whil he is bleeding out his mouth and shaking. I feel him dieing. Go,go,go,Dead. I'm finally out of my cell, I gotta find the exit


Part Two

I can't find the stupid exit. *memory flash*

I remembered being yelled at by someone named Kyle whatever his name is. He was yelling at me while I was chained.

Kyle, I got to kill him. Nice and Slow.

I find the Office right by me, and I walk into it. Hey Kyle.

"Freddy!", he said. "I thought you were imprisoned".

"You were wrong punk", I said. "Maybe you should employ non-fat, and sleepy guard, or besides you messed up. I saw a screen, a screen of a man eating a rabbit. I was concerned.

"Who is he", I asked.

"Noone", said Kyle.

I grabbed his shirt and put my claws to hs face.

"Now," I told Kyle. "If you don't talk, I'll split your throat".

"Okay", said Kyle frightend."His name is *****.

"How do I get in there".

"You use that portal, but please don't kill me"

"Open, the dang portal" I yelled.

He opened it. I talked him. We had a few words and allied together. We got out of the cell and back into the office. Kyle escaped, but I didn't care In the hall, ****** told me.

"Wait, he said. "I want to take care of some lightweight. He detoured. I waited in the office for a while

(Alrighty now)

[Varthonai]

(It's fine, DataaX, but please put out-of-story posts in parentheses, (like this.))

[Wadling]

The whole thing had been so surreal thought The Fear. The man who had rescued him looked odd, hardly human. But that didn't matter right now, if he had gotten into his cell then Kyle was around here. He had most likely run from his office the second the portal opened.

The Fear put his ear to the ground, heavy footsteps, he was running. Possibly to an alarm, he couldn't let him reach it. The nano-machines hadn't been activated since last time, so he moved much faster now, he was hunting.

He turned a corner, he felt fear, the place reeked of it. Sweat and tears and blood combined, The Fear inhaled, lovely.

"Come out Kyle" Said The Fear "trust me, i will find you."

He saw a light switch.

"Hmmmm, don't you just love the dark Kyle" He flicked the switch "I do, makes things more mysterious"

His eyes adjusted quickly and soon it was as if the light was still on. He followed the scent silently until he saw a figure, cowering in a small niche in the wall

"Kyle" The Fears voice danced with glee, he glided forward, grasped his neck and licked his face, purely for dramatic effect "I SEE YOU!"

Kyle let out a scream of horror, The Fear lifted him off the ground and smiled.

"Kyle, that cell was very boring." sighed The Fear in mock boredom "I want to play a little game, pick a number from one to ten"

"W- What? Why?"

"Pick... a... number... Kyle" The Fear repeated slowly, his voice more serious.

"No, i wont, i'll have no part in your g-" Kyle began

The Fear interrupted him "If you don't pick a number, i will and believe me Kyle" He moved his face closer to him "You don't want that"

"F- Four" Stammered Kyle "But what are you going to do?"

"Four, brilliant choice" The Fear chuckled "Right hand, ok then"

He grasped hold of Kyles right hand, he tried to pull away but he felt faint from being held up and was weak. The Fear twisted the hand, not until it broke, not until it shattered beyond repair. But he twisted, and twisted until the skin broke, and the whole hand was ripped clean.

Kyle shrieked in agony as he looked down at the place where his hand should have been. All he saw was blood gushing in torrents from the wound, and splintered bones hanging limply.

"Consider yourself lucky" Laughed The Fear "One was your head, though i suppose that might be preferable, at least you didn't pick six! Don't mind if i keep this do you? I might need the fingers, either for doors, or a light snack."

He watched as Kyles eyes stared up at him, then rolled back into their sockets, his eyes closed. Though not for the final time. He knelt down and searched him. He discarded most of the things but most useful was the baton and a set of keyes.

He headed back to the office and dumped the bloody hand on one of the computer terminals. He turned to his new companion.

"Got his keyes, i'll just get my stuff and we can set off" he said as he unlocked several lockers. He found some very odd things, a mask made to cover only the mouth, some playing cards, a glove with claw extensions before he finally came to his own things.

As he equipped himself with his own gear, he decided to take the other stuff with him. Anything can be used as a weapon. The glove matched the colours of his companions clothes.

"This yours?" He asked, tossing the glove to him.

He nodded.

"So, where do we go now?"

[Varthonai]

(Just to fill everyone in who didn't understand--Freddy Krueger was able to absorb some power from the Corinthian, since both of their powers are fueled by dreams. Freddy escaped and freed the Fear. Now Freddy and the Fear have teamed up and are loose on Level 4.)

(Xaxem's absence is going to drag two major characters behind on the storyline if I don't do something about it. So I'm going to have to take control of Johnny C. for now.)

[DataaX]

I think we should go up higher so we can regain our powers

[Wadling]

(Also, in case you didn't get it, i picked up a pack of the jokers playing cards. And a mask, who could that possibly be for?)

(Also Varth, any chance of some sort of map for us as well? If not, it's cool)

[Varthonai]

(Also, in case you didn't get it, i picked up a pack of the jokers playing cards. And a mask, who could that possibly be for?)

(Also Varth, any chance of some sort of map for us as well? If not, it's cool)

(I'm working on it. But you guys won't be able to leave the 4th Floor until I advance the plot a little bit in the other subplots so it probably won't matter. You can wander around and kill guards for a bit until I make the CEO start paying attention to you.)

(Remember that neither of you have fully regained your powers, though. Wadling, you'll need medical attention to remove the nanite implants in the Fear's skeleton, and DataaX, you've used up all the dream-power that you had. You'll have to fight in hand-to-hand combat until you learn how to get your power back.)

[Wadling]

The Fear looked at his companion.

"Let me look at some of these files first, you never know what intelligence can do for you"

He walked over to some filing cabinets, various names that he didn't know aside from his. He decided not to look into it, the opinions of fools rarely matter.

"So" The Fear leaned against the wall "Who are you? How did you escape on your own? Thats pretty impressive. Did they have you in a nothing room as well?"

[DataaX]

"Well, my name is Freddy, Freddy Kruger". "I escaped by killing the guard in his sleep". "It's wierd though, I absorbed some power out of nowhere, but I gotta admit, it felt good". I was gonna go out into the lower part of this place, but I wanted to kill Kyle for torturing me".

"What", said The Fear."

"Don't Worry, I saw you and you were intresting and I wanted to free you".

[Wadling]

This Freddy seemed like an ok guy, and he managed to escape so easily. He must be a valuable asset to have, thought The Fear.

"I won't tell you my real name" Said The Fear. "Just call me Fear. We have to find a way out of here."

He looked at one of the security cameras and spotted an elevator.

"Lets start there" He suggested.

(It will be locked by the way dataaX, in case you decide to go to it in your next post)

[Varthonai]

(Freddy and the Fear! xD That's an awesome team name.)

[DataaX]

"Okay lets do it" I agreed.

Freddy ran to the door but The Fear stopped him. The Fear heard a voice.

"Hey I heard some yelling" said the voice. "Yea hey let's go see what Kyle is doing. " Hey that Fear guy creeps me out.

"Why", said the other guy.

"Because he is so, so ugly".

The Fear got angry. He waited for them to come in the office. The guards came in while Fear and I hid, They looked at the screen and yelled because Fear wasn't in there. Fear turned off the lights. Fear Twited him arm by pulling it back and pushing it upwards, I just stuck my claws in his back digging for his sping so I could rip it out. Fear finished him off by grabbing his head and pulling it off. I got the spine out and pushed him down

" Hmmmm...", I said. "I guess by the way we killed those morons, we can call that a Fatality."

"Yeah" said The Fear

"You ready to go to elevator" I said

The Fear nodded

(Wadling, pretend we didn't know it was locked)
(Is that okay Varthonai)

[Varthonai]

(DataaX, it's not enough to say "the guards got slaughtered"; you have to give some detail if you're going to describe a battle. If you can't put some effort into your posts, let Wadling write the battle scenes.)

(I'll tolerate one more post without details, DataaX, after that I'm going to put you on probation. You'll have to run posts by me for approval.)

[DataaX]

(Okay ,but how about two chances)

[Varthonai]

(One.)

(Sorry dude, but this RP has worked beautifully so far and I'm going to have to be strict about rules here. One chance. Not two.)

[DataaX]

(Well I've fixed the one above)

[Varthonai]

(After a long hiatus, the Corinthian / Nny subplot is back up and running. For those of you who were fans, sorry for the long wait. :()


Nny considered the recent turn of events. “Well, I’ve always been looking for something new… ‘Over the Stars’ and all that.”

“DON’T LISTEN TO HIM, YOU FOOL!” roared one of the Doughboys. The Corinthian turned his head weakly to look at it. This creature was painted with ghostly figures dancing around the rim of its chef’s hat, and insane spirals whirling in its eyes. The word “FUCK” was inscribed upon its chest in all capitals.

“Johnny boy, you are a monster beyond redemption and you KNOW that for a fact! A world beyond this one is no answer to your madness!”

“Just this once, I agree with Psychodoughboy!” replied the other Styrofoam creature. “Your houseguest wants you to look to the future—I say, indulge in the here and now! Kill the fucker! Pop his eyeballs! Or… well, no, that could be difficult, but kill him anyway!”

Nny thought about it for a while. Then he turned and shook his head. “No. No, I don’t want to listen to either of you right now. This is new. This isn’t manic or depressive.”

The Wall behind them rumbled a bit. The Doughboys turned their heads, as if they were receiving directions.

“As you say, boy,” they answered in unison. Then they collapsed to the ground, and two tiny bolts of light were sucked from their bodies and moved back into the Wall.

Nny thought to himself for a bit. “I need some time alone,” he said the the Corinthian. “Just… just stay here for a bit.”

The Corinthian nodded, rubbing his muscles wearily, still drained from the odd power-leech event a few minutes past. What happened then? he thought. Did the Wall do that? Take some of my power into itself? Is that what’s been happening to this guy, enslaved by the Wall until he became a crazy husk of his former self? Will that happen to me?

The nightmare could do nothing but wait for a verdict from Nny. And the fact that he had to wait while standing mere feet away from the Wall, the thing that had tried to kill him only moments before--that did little to make the situation any more comfortable.

“Oh, for the love of—I forgot about Todd!” the Corinthian realized aloud, slapping his palm into his face. I’ll go fix that roof while Nny is thinking. And I should probably come up with a plan to get the Wall moving, too… there are lots of new things to consider today.


***

"Nail Bunny, I need your advice."

Nny had retreated to the back room, home to a desk with a variety of pointy objects strewn over it, and home to a small rabbit corpse pinned to the wall.

"You see, Nail Bunny, I made a new friend today. An interesting new friend. And he made me a proposition."

The rabbit stared sadly with eyes that were stitched shut. "And what did you say, Johnny?"

"I haven't answered him yet. I thought I should talk it over with you. Mr. Eff is prone to fits of violence and Psychodoughboy just wants me to be miserable. I needed another opinion, so here I am. And here you are."

"Is that meant to be funny?" asked Nail Bunny. "Since I'm not about to go anywhere else, I mean. I'm literally nailed down."

Johnny sighed. "No. No jokes, my bunny. It's just... I worry that the Wall has more control of me than it should. It makes me go out into the world, going to all that effort just for blood; it even makes me think that I like it! I need to get away from all of this. I'm losing my grip, or what tenuous grip I have left. I'm relinquishing control of my insanity."

"What happened to your old ideas? Is this going to turn into another debate about the logistics of suicide?"

"YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING!!!" Nny shouted at the dead rabbit. "YOU'RE JUST A STUPID BUNNY ON A WALL!!!"

"I know that, Johnny. My point is, do you have any new developments in this argument? Or are we going to be going through the same discussion we've had a thousand times before?"

Nny paused. "Well... since you put it that way... the funny man in the front hall with no eyes, he thinks I should leave this world. But I don't think he's talking about suicide."

"You're putting faith in a total stranger? Who has no eyes?"

Nny raised an eyebrow. "You're one to talk. You're a dead rabbit on a wall."

"That's different. We're old friends."

"True. But this man offers something no one else ever has... an opportunity for something completely new. It might be a whole 'nother shithole over there, yes! I admit it! But it would be a NEW shithole, with new morons to eviscerate! Possibly new anatomies to discover! Think of the endless possibilities, Nail Bunny!"

"It's your choice, Johnny. I can't say I feel strongly either way. But seeing as how you'll probably never see me again if you say 'Yes', well... it's been nice knowing you."

Johnny smiled and patted the rabbit on its maggot-ridden head. "It's been nice knowing you too, Nail Bunny."

Then Nny had an idea. A wonderful idea.

"Nail Bunny! You can come with us!"

"I don't think so, Nny. Nailed to the wall, remember?"

Johnny took a hammer from the tool chest on the desk and flipped it over, exposing the claw end. He fitted the claws underneath Nail Bunny's back and pried the nail from its stomach. The limp rabbit carcass tumbled to the floor.

"Ugh... I think you crushed a few of my ribs, Johnny."

"Oh, don't be a spoilsport, bunny. We can be together now!"

Johnny hugged the rotting creature to him like a stuffed animal. Which, as a matter of fact, it was--although it was of course only "stuffed" with rabbit organs, rather than the usual sawdust and carcinogenic taxidermist supplies.

"Let's go talk to my new friend! He'll be so excited! Oh, this is wonderful, bunny!"

Nail Bunny looked decidedly unenthusiastic about it.

[changhis]

(Just wondering, but is kayako from the grudge a no or yes?)

(and one more thing, is it alright if I'm using all three "ghosts?" in this?)

[Varthonai]

(Just wondering, but is kayako from the grudge a no or yes?)

(and one more thing, is it alright if I'm using all three "ghosts?" in this?)

(Originally I thought so. Vic didn't. I considered what Vic said and I have since come to think that he's right.)

(Sorry, but no. Kayako is just too... antisocial. I mean, all of the killers are antisocial but Kayako more so than others. Even Jason Voorhees shows a little more humanity than Kayako.)

(But if you want to pick one of the other suggested female characters I'm cool with that. We seriously need more girls in this game.)

[Wadling]

The Fear looked despondently down down at the dead body before him, he tossed the head down and sighed. What had happened to giving your opponent a chance, giving yourself a challenge. This new companion of his was vicious and far to quick to kill immediately for his liking. He seemed far too willing to 'team up', a trait often associated with that of fools. He stayed on his guard, in case one of Freddys violent moments turned on him.

As They headed off to find the elevator, they passed a massive pool of blood.

"That your little detour?" Asked Freddy.

"Yes, that would be the outcome of my encounter with our good friend Kyle" replied The Fear, not stopping.

He was anxious to escape this place, he knew that the moment the corporation discovered his escape, they would activate the nanites in his bones again and he would be helpless. He had to get as far away from this place as possible before that happened Or find somebody willing, or unwilling for that matter to help.

After much wondering in the hallways, left and right turnings, turning back, dead ends and cell after cell after cell of captives. They reached the promised elevator.

Freddy pushed the up button, explaining that.

"The higher you are, the more important you are"

"Not in every case my friend, but we may as well start there." The Fear replied.

A voice echoed down the halls.

"Please enter 10 digit door code for restricted access elevator 5/2B. If you are at the wrong elevator or are not authorized to use this elevator, please ask the senior officer on call." The voice was patronizing, that of a young woman. "If there is a medical emergancy, gas leak, rogue officer or escaped convict, please report to the panic room until further notice. If you are an escaped convict, please report to the nearest alarm system and quote the following, 92846, subject name here, escaped. Thank you."

The Fear had stopped listening a while ago, and was now pounding on the door.

"DAMN" He shouted. "What now?"

Freddy had been listening to the voice and suggested.

"How about we look for more guards in this 'Panic Room'. It's where all the officers go if someone escapes."

They agreed and set off.

[Victory]

"Well..."

I close my eyes and rub my nose bone. Today was going to be a long day I'm sure. I press the button again and turn the device off before getting to my feet. Moving around in this facility was about as dangerous as staying put. The agony of choice.

"We'd better get moving. They'll come searching for Adams sooner or later."

Somehow the hallways are dead quiet. The guards are gone - the other prisoners doesn't make a sound. That cold thing happens to my gut as I start walking, perfectly aware that I unarmed. Hopefully some of the guards at this place carried guns.

"Let's go, Belkar."

[Wadling]

After searching most of the hallways and rooms, they found the panic room. It was well hidden, all that gave it away was the tiniest seam in the otherwise bland wall (I was tempted to put MASSIVE SIGN SAYING LOL PANIC ROOM).

"Allright" Said The Fear "We've found it, now we just have to figure out how to get in here."

He began running his fingers around the seams, a small electric shock flung his arm away from it. The annoying womans voice echoed once again.

"Unauthorized personnel attempting to enter Panic room C/1798B. Occupants of the Panic Room are no longer able to open the doors. Please activate your nearest alarm system and quote the fol-" The voice stopped abruptly as The Fear spotted the speaker and pulled it free.

"Thats better" Sighed The Fear "But now they know we're here, and we can't open this thing, any ideas?"

[DataaX]

"I suggest we just hide anywhere", I said." You have powers" ?

(That's all I can think of right now)

[Wadling]

The Fear smiled

"Powers?" He laughed "Of course i have powers!"

He flicked the switch on this stealth camouflage and turned invisble. He moved quickly, sweeping Freddys feet out from under him. He moved closer to his ear

"And hiding is my speciality" He whispered, turning visible again.

He out stretched his hand and helped him up, knowing this was going to be a fun relationship.

"But thats not the point, they wont send guards down here now" He hoped he was right "They'll know we're too dangerous to confront head on. They will want to keep the men in here safe. Lets focus on ruining that plan."

He considered his options.

"They'll have their own oxygen supply on that room" He pondered "Forcing this door would seem the most obvious option, which makes it the least likely to work."

He remembered something Freddy had said earlier. 'It's wierd though, I absorbed some power out of nowhere'

"You said that you got some sort of power out of nowhere." His stomach lurched with a sudden realization "It got you out of that cell, it can probably get us INTO this one. Can you try and get it to work again? To get us in there?"

[Varthonai]

(DataaX, you've been frequently out of character and / or unrealistic and / or lacking detail in the past few posts. But the thing that really pushed me over the edge was the one-liner you just made. Even in dialogue, you should use at least two lines; look at Wadling's dialogue posts, for instance. They go on for paragraphs.)

(I'm tempted to just ban you from the RP, DataaX, but as I am a merciful GM I will give you three alternative options.)

(1. You can be put on probation. This means you will have to run all your posts by me via PM and get my approval before you put them here.)

(2. You can drop out. I'll let Wadling kill your character to prevent any loose ends.)

(3. You can drop out and let me turn Krueger into an NPC.)


(Your call, DataaX.)

[DataaX]

(Hey, I was think on it, I didn't just make the oneline post and leave it like that, But i'll take one, and I do make paragraphs)

[Varthonai]

Somehow the hallways are dead quiet. The guards are gone - the other prisoners doesn't make a sound. That cold thing happens to my gut as I start walking, perfectly aware that I unarmed. Hopefully some of the guards at this place carried guns.

"Let's go, Belkar."

"Keep the knife," Belkar insisted. "I've got an infinite number of 'em; no matter how many I throw, seems like there's always another one. I don't really know how that works, but hey, it's cool with me."

Belkar looked around. "One crack about this and I gut you like a kipper, but--yeah. I suck at Spot Check. Sometimes I can miss an entire cosmic gateway if no one points it out to me. So I think you'd better lead the way."


***

"BOSS!!"

The CEO turned. Herald was running at him urgently.

"BOSS!! We've got a problem!!"

The CEO sighed. No good help these days.

"Boss, we've got a BIG problem. There are two simultaneous outbreaks, one on Level 4 and one on Level 2. Both of them are Class 3 Outbreaks and are dangerously close to becoming Class 4."

"Brief me," the CEO said, wearily. "Brief me BRIEFLY. I'm a busy man, Herald."

"Sir, this is a CRISIS!"

"As I said. Brief me."

Herald calmed himself. "Ok. Ok. Bitterleaf's escape is confirmed, as we predicted. We believe he has also freed Dwight McCarthy."

The CEO sat a little straighter. "Hm. That could be a challenge. But we have Level 11 Clearance now. It's nothing we can't deal with."

"Sir, even with Level 11 Clearance, the Riot Control Team we sent won't be enough. We need to order in a backup force, right now!"

The CEO considered this, decided it was a good point, and hit a few buttons on the control panel next to his throne. "Alright, that's taken care of. McCarthy and Bitterleaf are no longer a problem. Unless... hm, if Adams had a map on him when he bit the dust, McCarthy could have found it... then they might be able to get away. No matter, though; we can track them down eventually. What's next?"

"Next is Krueger, sir. He was apparently able to leech some power from the Corinthian after you allowed the nightmare to escape. Now Krueger is himself running wild on level 4. Ensign Kyle expired a moment ago, and we can track Krueger's direction very easily, mostly because of the trail of bodies... at any rate, we're copying Kyle and the others as we speak, but--"

The CEO laughed uncontrollably. "BUAHAHAHAHA! That's brilliant! That's priceless!"

Herald looked oddly at his boss. "Something about this is... funny, sir?"

"Isn't it obvious, Herald? The Corinthian is a single nightmare. Krueger is the goddamn Dream Master! Krueger is our metaphorical medical leech, destroying the problem on Level 5 for us! And when Krueger drains the nightmare dry of all his power, when the Corinthian is a lifeless wisp of dying dream-crud, when there's nothing left to claim, that's when we move in. We've got the technology to zap all of Krueger's power away at once, Herald--it doesn't matter how powerful the child-murdering bastard gets from feeding off of Morpheus' little sidekick. We can kill two birds with one stone here by just leaving Krueger alone."

The CEO flicked his control panel off. "Do you know what the beauty of this prison is, Herald?"

"Efficiency, elasticity, and expendability, Boss," Herald recited.

"Damn right. You did well in Training, boy. And right here I'm talking about numbers two and three--this place is elastic and its resources are un-fuckin'-limited. It's flexible; we can change the rules whenever we damn well please. No matter how many pop their cells, they're going to go back in before they ever make it out of the prison. And it's expendable; no matter how many guards they kill, a dozen will come to take the place of every man down. This is the only prison in the Multiverse that is completely impenetrable, so long as I'm in charge."

The LED lights that glowed around the rims of the CEO's chair dimmed as he went back into his sleep-cycle. "Wake me up when you've dealt with McCarthy and Bitterleaf," he mumbled. "We've got a schedule to keep, doncha know."

[Wadling]

(So the CEO knows nothing about me? Excellent.)

[DataaX]

I tried to absorb energy again, but I failed. "Sorry, buddy,” I told the Fear. “No can do."

"Shoot," said Fear. “Well, I guess we’ll have to do without it, so—"

Suddenly, I started to feel something. It was power, nightmare power again. The energy was invisible, like air, but I could feel it coursin’ through me like a freight train on an express railway. My hands shook in joy, my claws felt more powerful. I had a minimal amount of power again.

“Hey, lookee here,” I laughed. “Fooled ya!”

I grabbed the Fear and pulled him with me into Dreamland. Things were lookin’ up for the two of us now, heheh.

But how in Hell was I supposed to kill the guards while they were awake?! Spendin’ so long killin’ things one way, you forget how to do it another. S’how I lost the upper hand in a fight with Jason Voorhees, way back when.

Ah, but here now—here was a right fool’s fix! Two guards were sleepin’ like babies. Off-duty. The idiots.

One of ‘em was dreamin' of riding on an airplane. I settled down in his tiny lil’ brain and dropped the Fear off in the back. “Wait here,” I said, puttin' a claw to my lips. My newfound partner-in-evil nodded once, and I moved off.

The dreamin’ guard looked outside; he saw the plane goin’ back up, headin’ away from the landing zone. He was worried. He came to the cockpit.

"Hey," the guard said, askin’ the pilot. "What’s going on? Where are you going?"

"Where are you going?" the pilot repeated. The pilot turned around and—guess what! It was me! You should’ve seen the look on the guard’s stupid, fat face.

"Where are you going? You are going to DIE!"

I grabbed his throat in my bare left hand and slashed his throat apart with my gloved right hand.

“Hey, Fear!” I called to the back of the plane. “I’m done! Let’s head out of Dreamland and kill some more o’ these assholes.”

[Varthonai]

"So that's it, then?" asked the Corinthian. "You're ready?"

"YES! ABSOLUTELY!" grinned Nny, waving Nail Bunny around like a rag doll. "PULL THE F*CKING LEVER!"

The Corinthian threw the switch inside of the bulldozer that he had hijacked from construction workers a few blocks away, revved up the engine, and plowed through Nny's front door.

A loud BOOM rattled the neighborhood with each wall that the Corinthian tore through, until finally he struck the Wall. It didn't collapse or crumble, as the others had; it was pulled up from its base, and slid cleanly onto the machine's front blade. This was all as Nny had predicted; the Wall could not be destroyed easily.


Suddenly, I started to feel something. It was power, nightmare power again. The energy was invisible, like air, but I could feel it coursin’ through me like a freight train on an express railway.

"GAH!!!" the Corinthian balked, falling forward onto the controls. The bulldozer began to spin out of control, with the Wall wobbling dangerously on the end. The machine began weaving a path toward Todd's house, throwing up dust in its wake.

Nny jumped aboard and pushed the Corinthian out of the way, shutting the machine off again. "Hello? New Friend Person?"

"Ugh..." mumbled the Corinthian, struggling to sit up straight. "Something... something weird again..."

The Corinthian looked at the Wall, still sitting motionless atop the bulldozer blade. "Did you do that?" asked the Corinthian. "DID YOU DO THAT TO ME?!"

Unsurprisingly, the Wall did not respond. I'm going crazy. I just shouted at a wall, the Corinthian realized. That's what it's doing. It's driving me crazy. Just like Nny. I've got to get out of this place...

"Er." Nny hesitated to speak, noting the Corinthian's furious and anxious expression. "We've got the Wallbeast out. What now?"

"It's still not very portable," the Corinthian thought. "It needs... wheels, maybe. Something that will let us pull it around."

"Squee might have some that we can use," Nny realized. "Let's go over and--"

"Sorry, 'Squee'?" the Corinthian interrupted.

"The neighborhood boy. Lives next door."

"Oh..."

The one who only ever refers to you as "Scary Neighbor Man"?

"That's a good idea," the Corinthian interrupted, "but it might be best if I go alone. You see--"

"No, no, not at all!" Johnny laughed. "Squee and I get along fine. We could practically be brothers."

"But--"

Too late. Johnny was already walking off. "There's a tunnel that connects the two of our houses! Neato, huh?" chuckled Johnny, heading over to the ruins of his shack. "I'll be over there in a minute and we won't even have to go through his parents!"

Wordlessly, the Corinthian slapped his palm to his face. A vision of Todd's reaction to him standing side-by-side with the Scary Neighbor Man brought nothing but shame.

Nny, I think I'll sit this one out.


***

Todd Casil looked hopefully out of his wide window. "Please make the Scary Neighbor Man go away, Mr. Angel... please... please..."

"Son?" came a voice from the hallway. "You ok in there?"

Todd turned to see his father coming in through the door. Mr. Casil walked inside and looked sternly down upon the boy.

"Who are you talking to? One of your imaginary friends? Like the voice in your teddy bear, or the Scary Neighbor Man?"

Todd huddled underneath his sheets and pulled Shmee close. Shmee was rather battered for a teddy bear but he served his purpose; Todd was comforted by his presence.

"I know you think we're not paying enough attention to you," Mr. Casil said to his son, "and... well, there's a good reason for that. Y'see son, I resent your existence."

Then Mr. Casil reconsidered. "Okay, maybe that's a bit harsh. Or... no, wait, it's true. I really despise my life and you're a major factor in that."

Todd looked sadly down at his bedsheets as Mr. Casil continued. "Whew!" his father chuckled, lightly. "It feels good to have this talk with you."

Todd looked at his feet and tried to concentrate on Shmee while Mr. Casil talked on and on at length. Then Todd heard something.

Are those... footsteps?

"Do you know what it's like to be trapped into a life you never planned on having? I mean, look at me! I can't believe I have this sh*tty job I do, and it's even more unbelievable that I have a kid! It's like having a roommate you can't just kick out!"

Closer... closer... Todd covered his head with the bedsheet and hugged Shmee hard.

"You know, I had other plans for myself. This is nothing like how things should've been. You shouldn't be here, I shouldn't live here. And your stinking mother wouldn't be doing all the sh*t she does. Little kid, I'm sorry nobody loves you, but just think about it, think of how miserable I am. And how much of that is your fault. I--"

*CRACK*

Mr. Casil fell to the floor in an unconscious heap.

"Hiya, Squee!" Nny laughed heartily, bounding into the room. He clutched a plastic robot in one hand that he had snatched from Todd's toy chest. One end of it was stained with blood.

"Sorry about your dad, there, but it didn't look like he'd be shutting up anytime soon and I've no time to wait," said Nny, noting Todd's dazed expression of petrified fear. "Don't worry about him. He'll be up in a while. I've come to ask if I can borrow something."

Todd didn't react. He was too busy eying the bloody robot toy.

Nny moved over to the toy chest and found two large Radio Flyer toy wagons. "These will work perfectly," Nny continued, disassembling them with some tools he'd brought, sealing them in a giant plastic garbage bag, and lowering them out through the window. He knew the Corinthian would be waiting to take them; for some reason the nightmare hadn't been very keen on meeting Todd in person a second time.

"Well, now. I'm about to leave, so I'd think we should have a last nice heart-to-heart chat..." Nny began.

http://i305.photobucket.com/albums/nn222/varthonai/NnySquee1.png

(Copyright by Jhonen Vasqu... ah, screw it, I'm sure you all get the idea by now.)

[Wadling]

(Ok then, hang on just one tiny moment. Did we just kill a guy inside the panic room, or a random guard?)

(If it is the latter, how did that help us get in there?)

[Varthonai]

(Ok then, hang on just one tiny moment. Did we just kill a guy inside the panic room, or a random guard?)

(If it is the latter, how did that help us get in there?)

(It is the former. You and Freddy used Freddy's dream-power to enter the mind of a guard in the panic room. Freddy proceeded to kill the guard. Now you can leave the dream and reappear INside the panic room.)

[Wadling]

Woosh, The Fear and his curious companion disappeared from the plane, he was so confused he had no idea what had just happened. The best he could do was stand dumbfounded as this Freddy did something to the plane.

Now he had dropped as if from nowhere into some sort of room. He looked around quickly and observed the room. Roll mats, sleeping bags, canned food, what was this? Then he saw the men.

Four men, one of which had just collapsed, bleeding from his throat. The other three men were obviously stunned beyond belief. One had fallen off his chair and was sprawled clumsily on the floor. His limbs flailing madly, as if he was trying to move in twenty directions at once.

The other two were slightly calmer, but still erratic in their movements. He heard one shout something obscure, he didn't catch it in the confusion. One ran for the door while the other reached his hand towards his left leg, The Fear saw a pistol and a holster attached. He had to act quickly.

"Get the one by the door!" He yelled, if they escaped they would find help "Don't let them escape"

He ran towards the guard reaching for his pistol, he grabbed hold of the gun with one hand and moved it to the right so it pointed at the wall. With his other hand he moved to punch him in the stomach. The man let go of the gun with his steadying hand and moved to grab The Fears wrist.

The Fear pulled the grasping hand towards him and at the same time moved forwards, smashing his forehead into the oncoming opponents chin, he moved his head upwards leaving the guards neck exposed.

The Fear immediately abandoned the gun and used both hands to hold his throat, he dug his fingernails in until he found the Jugular vain. He pulled and a subsequent splatter of blood filled the room. The Fear closed his eyes so as to not get it in his eyes and pushed him roughly aside.

He opened his eyes and turned to the man who had fallen off his chair, He was bleeding from just about everywhere blood could be drawn from, with Freddy still on top of him slicing away happily. How had Freddy done it so quickly, thought The Fear, turning to the door. The man who had run for it was still standing and was now reaching for his own weapon.

"I told you t-" He realized that now they needed action not words, he was too far away to do anything, the gun was pointed at Freddy "NO!"

The Fear sprinted towards Freddy and embraced him in a bear hug, pulling him backwards and at the same time activating the stealth camouflage. The thudded onto the floor as bullets sailed overhead the invisible couple.

"What?" Exclaimed the guard in astonishment, he looked ready to investigate, but then walked backwards to the door.

"When he turns around" Whispered The Fear faintly right in Freddy's ear "I'll make my move, you stay here"

The man surveyed the room briefly, before turning to the door. The Fear knew he only had a split second before he turned back.

He sprung up as the man flicked out his keycard. (Oh yes Varth, you knew it was coming up). He sped towards the man who let off a shot that went wide. The Fear grabbed his wrist and spun the gun out of his hand, skidding it along the floor. He kicked his knee, shattering it underneath his boots. He searched for a weapon, all he could see was the keycard the man was holding.

He ripped it out of his grip, it wasn't bendable or flexible in any way, perfect. The Fear pushed the man to the floor, relying on his weight alone to get him to the ground. He raised the keycard above his head and brought the corner slamming into the mans left eye. He screamed in torment as The Fear twisted it around pushing harder and harder, breaking the soft skin and tissue surrounding it.

Soon the struggling stopped as the eye was pushed back into his brain, the screaming and heavy breathing ceased and The Fear let go. He stood up and stared at the sight before him, he blinked several times before turning, picking up the chair, sitting down and putting his head in his hands.

He sighed deeply.

[castlemanic]

(dayum, he took outtwo guards on his own and his only reaction is a SIGH, daaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyym, im scared of him already)

[Wadling]

(So am I Castle, seriously. I don't know where i'm getting this stuff, but it's so fun)

[castlemanic]

(ive always liked playing a good guy, but here you got to be evil, you should see some of the things my character has done before, but ur character is SCARY, my character is analytical scary, varths is torturous scary who can eat others eyes using his eyes, your character is like 'OMG GTFO BEFORE HE KILLS US ALL' kind of scary, so is varths but urs is on a more humanistic level, which is scary on its own)

[Wadling]

(Thanks a lot, it's actually a very good way to relieve stress i've found, thats not too good)

[castlemanic]

(no problem, yeah its kind of strange releive stress like this, hope i dont go round killing people for their powers :/)

[Varthonai]

"Boss," said Herald, "the body count just spiked. Looks like the Level 4 Guards lured Krueger into a Panic Room. One of them managed to get a message about a man that Krueger freed... looks like the Fear, from Cell 411."

The CEO became active. "Lovely. Order all their keycards and maps to self-destruct. Then Krueger will have to use some more dream power to escape... we can speed up the death of the Corinthian a little that way."

Herald nodded and went to the computer terminal, hitting a few buttons and entering a command. In ten seconds every keycard and map device in the Panic Room would melt itself into useless slag.

"What about Belkar and McCarthy?"

"No word yet. The riot team hasn't found them."

"Keep me posted, then. I need to keep up-to-date."

The CEO almost went back into his sleep cycle, but then remembered something. "Herald... when was the last time someone checked on the Core Terminal?"

"We've got three patrol teams around it, Sir. I don't think that there will be any problems."

"It's protocol, Herald. The Core is the only spot in the Outer Works without cameras; we have to watch it regularly. Send someone."

Herald tapped a few buttons to bring up a reserve list. "We've got one Specialist Elite, sir. Everyone else is busy handling one of the two breakouts."

"Ah, well, shame to waste an Elite's talent... but if there's no one else, go ahead and send him in. Give him an Emergency Signal comlink and a weapon."

"Will do, Boss."

"Good man."

[Wadling]

The Fear took his face out of his hands and licked his lips, various drops of liquid were slurped up, blood, sweat and bits of eye. He looked over at the man lying with the keycard propped up, sticking out of his pupil.

"Well, lets get out of here" He muttered, still angry at his companion for almost getting himself killed.

As he reached down to free the key card it morphed into a gray sludge, which seeped down through the gaps now left in the socket.

"NO!" Moaned The Fear as he stooped down and dipped his fingers into the disappearing gloop.

He punched the door in anger before turning to Freddy.

"Any chance you can get that power back?" He asked in an annoyed tone.

[Varthonai]

"Break!" Hector barked. He and the Joker went down one end of the hallway. Hector didn't bother looking back to see if Shriek was going to follow the plan and go down the other hall; if she did, they'd know soon enough, and if she didn't, they'd deal with it later. Too much was at stake to waste time on such small matters.

The two killers worked flawlessly as a team. Hector grabbed one guard from behind and thrust one of the Joker's razor-edged playing cards deep into the man's neck The Joker patted the other guard on the back with his joybuzzer, sending two hundred volts of power through his heart and stopping him--quite literally--dead in his tracks. The pale-skinned man suppressed a chuckle after a stern glance from Hector.

Leaving the bodies behind, Hector and his companion moved forward to the junction where the three hallways met. There was a steel vault in the floor, and the other two hallways joined to meet it.

Hurry, Ms. Barrison. If you don't show in a few seconds, we're going to have to move on without you...

[Killing_Time]

Shriek had started to run. She had quickly figured where and when by following the example of the others. She was met by two guards, as expected. According to Hector, too much was at stake to hesitate. Not that she would do so, never. But taking her time enjoying the act could cause unwanted trouble. The guards had both their backs turned so she silently took off and in a graceful movement ended behind them. She quickly grabbed the head of the guard before her and snapped his neck in a fast, powerful movement. The sound of the crack immediately made the other guard turn around while readying himself for combat. Too late. Before the first guard had hit the floor, Shriek's scar lit up, her hand moving swiftly through the air and hitting the guard with a strike powered by energy.
Goddamn. The uniform the guard carried had saved him. Well, spared him a few seconds more. He was still conscious but weakened, unable take any effective action such as alarming anyone. Choice was free of what to do with this helpless soul. Shriek briefly smiled and looked into the panicked eyes that could nothing but turn at every possible direction in a desperate search of a solution, help. A hope.
She grabbed the man's arm and got up in the air. The height of the ceiling seemed fitting. At least fitting for the mission Shriek had at hand. As she reached the top she lowered herself and whispered: "At the bright side, they'll probably find you and your mate soon enough."
The guard closed his eyes. Shriek violently sent him towards the floor head first. If this wasn't enough to take his life she was still pretty sure he wouldn't ever get out of the coma from fracturing his skull, let alone be able to move from damaging the spine. She gave herself a burst of power, flying right above the ground before letting her legs take over from the flight. She was out of the hallway with the guards and was met with the sight of Hector and Joker. She quickly caught up with them.

[Varthonai]

"Excellent," Hector smiled. "Just those last two poor fellows over there, against the three of us... almost pitiful, really."

The team advanced toward the final target, ready for battle.


***

A lone man in a brown fedora walked through the halls that led to the heart of the Level 5 complex. A microphone buzzed in his ear.

"What do you want?" hissed the man in the fedora.

"We need you to check in at the Core," came a reply.

"I'm off-duty! I don't need to do anything!"

"Mr. Frederick, I'm afraid we can make you do whatever we ask. You're under our control as long as we have your termination codes. The undead flesh you inhabit only lasts so long as we continue to keep our fingers off of the keys that deactivate your regenerative medical devices."

"It's DR. FREDDY," replied the Elite. "You know that, you were the one who pulled me out of my world's Hell and into THIS one, remember?"

"Very well, Dr. Freddy. Be prepared for combat, unlikely as it is. You may activate your primary weapon."

Five long razor blades slid out of a glove on Dr. Freddy's right hand. The Doctor growled into his headset.

"I'm going to get compensation for this. This is ABUSE."

"Call it what you will, Dr. Freddy. Now go and investigate. We're running on a tight schedule."


***

Herald observed Dr. Freddy's progress from the Observation Deck. One of his co-workers came to watch with him.

"What... IS he?"

"He is a clone of the corpse of a different man," Herald replied, "implanted with that man's memories, given supernatural strength and power and weapons. He was originally created to combat one of our rogue co-workers. You see, in his former life he had a vendetta against our psychiatric consultant... so we turned to him when our psychiatric consultant turned out to be just as depraved as the men we were trying to contain."

"You're talking about--"

"Don't say his name out loud," Herald warned. "Betrayals from the inside are always classified. There are many people who might overhear in this area."

"But it's him, isn't it? You know who I mean."

"Yes," Harold answered. "Him."

The other man was silent. "So Freddy's mad at him for some reason? Did they have a fight?"

"Freddy was brutally beaten and then decapitated by The Man In Question."

"...I see."

"Even after their initial fight, when The Man In Question fled, we decided to keep Freddy, though. Bloody rage is a powerful ally, and he's become a capable fighter."

"So why are we wasting him on a recon op?"

"Necessity, my friend. Necessity."


***

The three members of the shaky truce stood victorious over the burned, bloodied bodies of the patrol team.

"All right, I have the combination to the vault," Hector said, immediately going back to business. "Stand aside, it'll spring fast when it--"

"YOU!" boomed a voice from across the hallway, resonating with disbelief. "YOU! YOU F*CKING BASTARD!"

Hector swerved. "What the hell are you--how did they know?! How did they--"

*shkt*

Hector dodged just in time from a blow that came--not from "Dr. Freddy"--but from the Joker. A thrown playing card slashed Hector's ear. It had been aimed at his neck.

"HAHAHAHA! I knew it, Hecky! This was a setup!"

"No, you idiot!" hissed Hector. "HE'S the one who--"

The Joker's fist hit Hector in his masked face. The pale-skinned devil had been palming a joybuzzer, and some of it coursed through the material of the helmet to shock Hector badly.

"Gahhh!" screamed Hector, shaking erratically. "Stop it, this is--"

*SHKT*

Three razor-sharp claws slid through the Joker's back. "No one is going to kill that bastard except for me," growled Dr. Freddy into the Joker's ear. "NO ONE."

The Joker's bloody body fell to the floor, spitting blood and convulsing. Dr. Freddy didn't bother finishing him off--he had bigger fish to fry, so he turned his rotting eyes on Hector.

"So. We meet again."

"Spare the archenemy formalities, Frederick, I'm not in the mood," said Hector, spitting out a few teeth--teeth that were rotted and blackened, and moist with swamp-like gooey material. "At worst you could say we've killed EACH OTHER; the vendetta's over."

"Yet here you are, alive and well again," hissed Freddy. "I will not rest until you are DEAD and never come back!"

Shriek had been pacing the room, trying to get in a shot or a sound to manipulate Freddy. Freddy turned his head to her.

"Spare it, ma'am," he chuckled. "I'm already technically dead, so your lightning bolts will do little harm--and I only obey commands from the Corporation, so don't bother trying to control me either. But I'll make you a deal--you can join the Corporation if you like. It's better than having to live in those ridiculous cells and run through the Corporation's arena games like a damned Roman gladiator."

"Don't listen to him, Frances!" shouted Hector. "They'll just make you into an Elite! A disgusting monster like him!"

"You call ME a monster... ha, that's ironic, isn't i--AGH!!!"

Hector had lunged at Freddy and knocked him to the floor. He had his mouth very close to Freddy's face--it almost looked like he was trying to kiss him, but on closer inspection it was obvious that he was biting Freddy's ear off and seeming as if he were about to chew right into his enemy's brain. His hands were working furiously to hold Freddy's limbs still, but if the undead creature beneath him got one hand loose it was all over...

I have the upper hand now, thanks to his incessant need for monologues, Hector thought. But I hope you aren't seriously considering his offer, Ms. Barrison...

(SPP, this is an actual turning point. Your character can continue from here as an ally of Hector, or she can turn on Hector and become an ally of the Corporation, or she can simply walk away from the fight and try to find her own path out of the Corporation's prison. As you will.)

[Killing_Time]

Shriek took one glance at Joker. He had been acting quicker on the same thought they both had had about Hector. No way in hell was she gonna stay here, which meant any consideration of Frederick's offer was out of reach. She didn't need much time to think things through. Hector was they key to getting out from these endless halls. She didn't mind working alone, and she was convinced she'd make it out at some point.
...Yet, having company had always been an option Shriek preferred.

Time had run out for Hector, as Frederick managed to get free -- One ear less. He violently pushed Hector away from Joker and Shriek. I might not be able to work on this bastard's mind, but no one mentioned any rules about any other options.
With determination in every movement, Shriek clenched her fists, loaded herself with enough energy to easily shove a car away and aimed at Frederick.

Missed. Damn it!

Shriek still had enough power to reload , but with a killing machine coming at her like a steam engine, it had started to become a stressful affair and she had to back away to buy more time.
He was close, closer than Shriek liked as she sent off the bolt.
A joyous shiver went through her as the body slamming into the wall with a horrifying dunk. She panted slightly and took a few steps forward towards Hector, but stopped. He's fine as he is.
"The person you call Ms. Barrison died before you ever had a chance to meet her, Hecky," Shriek said in a mocking tone.
She sighed and chuckled. "Considering to keep up, Joker?"

[Varthonai]

Shriek still had enough power to reload , but with a killing machine coming at her like a steam engine, it had started to become a stressful affair and she had to back away to buy more time.
He was close, closer than Shriek liked as she sent off the bolt.
A joyous shiver went through her as the body slamming into the wall with a horrifying dunk. She panted slightly and took a few steps forward towards Hector, but stopped. He's fine as he is.
"The person you call Ms. Barrison died before you ever had a chance to meet her, Hecky," Shriek said in a mocking tone.
She sighed and chuckled. "Considering to keep up, Joker?"

("Cool" doesn't even BEGIN to describe that post, SPP. :thumbsup:)

The Joker coughed up some blood. "Heheh... I'm paintin' the town red here... or at least the jail... heheh..."

"This is no time for jokes, you asshole," Hector growled. "It's your own fault that this happened."

Hector bent down and looked at the wounds. "Agh, he was stabbed in the gut. He'll live but he won't be able to move, except by crawling, until we can get somewhere safe. He needs surgery..."

Freddy was running off. Shriek made a move to go after him but Hector shook his head. "He already called in a squad. There's no point going after him now."

"Heh--Heck, boy," the Joker laughed, spitting a bit of blood again, "what're we gonna do now?"

Hector bent down to the vault and entered a code sequence. The mechanism whirred and the door sprang open suddenly, like a clamp.

"I'll tell you what we're going to do," Hector said, in a low and dangerous voice. "We're going to go through with the plan. Joker, you're useless in a fight... take this and install it in the computer down there."

Hector thrust a USB drive into the pale man's twitching hands, picked him up, and dropped him down the hole. The Joker landed on the ground about ten feet below.

"We'll hold them off," Hector shouted down. "Just get it in the computer, quickly! We'll get you as soon as the virus is loaded into their security and the system goes down."

Hector slammed the vault door shut again and turned. "You've made your point," he said, reluctantly. "Shriek."

One of the fallen patrolmen had been a medic. Hector took a scalpel from his First Aid kit and twirled it expertly.

How do we first begin to covet? Hector thought to himself. We covet what we see. And I have seen so very many people die by my hands...


***

"Dr. Frederick," hissed Herald into the comlink, "You will not go back and fight. You will seek medical attention and let the enforcement team do the heavy work."

"But HE is there! He is--"

"THAT'S AN ORDER, Elite."

"...I do as I am commanded."

"Yes, you do. Now go and do it."

Herald cut the connection and turned to the CEO.

"It's our old friend from Psychiatry. He's decided to show his face again. He's trying to take control of the Core Terminal."

The CEO nodded. "I know."

".............WHAT?"

"I know. I've been monitoring his actions for some time now. Private feed, only to me."

"And you did nothing?!"

The CEO looked stern. "I run this Corporation, Herald. There are other forces at work than the ones you know. Do not question my judgment."

"...yes, Boss."

"Now order in the strike force. I want all three of them dead."

"Dead? Not recaptured?"

"DEAD." The CEO licked his lips, savoring the word. "DEAD. DEAD. DEAD. We have Level 11 Clearance, Herald! It's wonderful! We can kill every last rat-bastard one of them if we like!"

"As you wish, Boss." Herald typed another command into the terminal. "KILL--NOT CAPTURE."

[castlemanic]

(goddam, im not letting this thread die)

Sylar kept on pushing through the darkness, hoping to find some flaw, a mistake in the design of the blackened state of the room. he kept on walking for hours, he had eaten right before he had fired at hi first guard, Sylar still didnt know if he was alive or dead (your call varth). Sylar continued on when he eventually bumped into something, and uneven patch of ground in a pitch black room. Sylar grinned.

[Varthonai]

(goddam, im not letting this thread die)

Sylar kept on pushing through the darkness, hoping to find some flaw, a mistake in the design of the blackened state of the room. he kept on walking for hours, he had eaten right before he had fired at hi first guard, Sylar still didnt know if he was alive or dead (your call varth). Sylar continued on when he eventually bumped into something, and uneven patch of ground in a pitch black room. Sylar grinned.

(For the millionth time, people, THIS THREAD IS NOT DYING. In fact, it's one of the most active RPs on the forums, with 7 active members! Good Lord.)

The Joker felt the ground hit him hard in the face. His wounded abdomen exploded with pain, but he hardly noticed. Pain was often a factor in the Joker's line of work, and he had learned to ignore it a long time ago.

Hand over hand, he pulled himself toward the computer terminal. "Come on, come on," he groaned, straining. "Come to Papa..."

This was useless. He could barely move. By the time the Joker got to the computer terminal, Hector and Shriek would already be captured or dead.

"INTRUDER. CLEARANCE NOT RECOGNIZED."

A computerized voice beeped near the Joker's face, and a robotic security camera with a red electrical eye appeared before him. It was mounted on a robotic arm with a number of extending joints, going all the way up to the ceiling of the Core.

"PLEASE SCAN AGAIN. CLEARANCE NOT RECOG--"

The Joker pulled a card from his pocket wearily, straining to even turn his crawling body. "This is my identification, you failed HAL stunt double. Let me through."

The arm moved closer. "CLEARANCE STILL NOT RECOGNIZED. PLEASE PROCEED TO--"

The tip of the arm exploded in a burst of sparks as the Joker pushed the razor-sharp card clean through the lens of the camera. It reeled backwards erratically. The Joker had latched onto it with both hands, hanging on with an iron grip while it flailed around the room.

"No, no," the Joker groaned, annoyed. "No, move THAT way, toward the terminal!"

The arm moved around the room completely at random, spouting occasional nonsense.

"PLEASE PROCEED TO CLEARANCE YOUR RETINA SCAN WITH AUTHENTICATIO10101010000"

At last, the arm arrived nearby the computer terminal. The Joker released his grip and landed heavily in the swivel chair by the machine.

"Direct hit, heheh," the Joker chuckled. He coughed a little more blood. "Hecky, you'd better be right about this," he continued, pushing the USB drive into the computer, "or I will be one very mad clown..."


***

"On your left!" called Hector, slashing an enforcement officer's neck and kicking him away.

Shriek fired a bolt of power to the left and blasted away an enforcer who was getting into firing position.

"They're armed with automatic weapons," Hector shouted above the sound of gunfire. "That means the CEO finally got Level 11 Clearance--bad news for us."

Shriek didn't have time to speak, but figured Hector's word was as good as anyone's in this situation. She blasted another man about to open fire and he splattered against a wall.

"You fight long-range offensively, I fight melee defensively--we should be most efficient if we work that way, as long as we aren't separated," Hector continued, stabbing another man in the face. "Don't let them drive a wedge between us."

Hector picked a handgun from the man he had just killed and fired off several rounds. Three gunmen went down where Hector aimed, struck by a hail of small-caliber rounds.

Another man tried to ambush Hector from behind and got a faceful of scalpel. Hector pulled the weapon out again, licked the bloodstained blade and turned to Shriek.

"Can't you set them against each other, or something? How strong are your powers since you escaped?"

Shriek was about to speak when a loud buzzing noise cut her off. The enemy heard it to--all of them looked up at the ceiling, the source of the noise.

Then all the the lights went black.

"What the hell?" was whispered silently among the guards several times, in several variations. Hector knew that enforcement squads weren't equipped with night vision--but he had Spec Ops armor. He did.

He moved quickly and silently among them, striking occasionally and with excessive force. There were perhaps fifty soldiers left when the lights went out; Hector had killed thirty-four of them within ten minutes. As he slit the throat of his thirty-fifth victim, he realized he had come full circle and bumped into Shriek.

"Shriek," he whispered. "Joker succeeded... we are now at a significant tactical advantage. Now, aim left. No, ten degrees further... as much power as you can."

BOOM. The walls shook and a dozen soldiers were blown to pieces. Several more were flung unconscious against the walls. The brief flare of power lit up the room, illuminating the carnage for a few moments before vanishing into the darkness.

Hector scanned the room with his night vision filter and saw one remaining man who was alive and conscious. He grabbed the man by the lapels and hissed threateningly.

"Run back to your boss, little man. Tell him I'm coming for him."

"Y-yes sir," squealed the soldier. Hector grinned.

"No, not really. On second thought, I'd rather surprise him."

Hector raised his scalpel and rammed it all the way through the soldier's throat, then yanked it out again and licked it clean. The dying man gargled and made a death-rattle sound, then collapsed and ceased moving.

"Come on," Hector said to Shriek, turning his head. "I'd better go have a look at the Joker now."


***

<commencing subroutine 5.405>

<authorizing>

<ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR>

<corrupt files detected>

<corruption identifies unknown virus>

<scanning...>

<attempting purge>

<purge failed. reattempting purge with antiviral 2.0>

<purge failed. reattempting purge with antiviral 3.0>

<aflkdjfwmfanvappwaeffatal_exceptionadffkllvcancell ing>

<EMERGENCY REBOOT>

<SHUTTING DOWN>

<System Shutdown complete; restarting>

<This is the SylarGuard Artificial Intelligence. Welcome.>

<authorizing new guest>

<new guest: name = PsychoLog666>

<SYSTEM OVERRIDE by PsychoLog666; authorization granted>

<System renamed. System is now the CorporationBane Artificial Intelligence>

<PsychoLog666, would you like to continue modifications? Y / N>


***

Nny and the Corinthian had just finished attaching wheels to the Wall when suddenly the world disappeared around them. They were in an large 10x10x10 meter cell, standing in the same positions that they had occupied only moments before. One noticeable difference was that Nny now had several wire attached to his head with suction cups.

"That was... convenient," noted the Corinthian. "Something must have happened to distort their generator system."

"I see..." said Nny, drowsily. The Corinthian walked over and pulled the suction cups off; Nny perked up immediately.

"I think I was right," the Corinthian continued. "You were generating most of their reality yourself. Or... or perhaps the world was more a part of you than vice versa from the beginning. Either way, we're out now."

"LOOK! NAIL BUNNY!" screamed Nny, diving at the ground. Indeed, Nail Bunny was lying on the ground beside the now-mobile Wall; so was Nny's "Die-ary."

"Lovely," said the Corinthian. "Now... back to practical matters."

He charged at the barred door of the prison and burst it open with his shoulder. "After you, Johnny."


***

"CATASTROPHIC!" Herald screamed. "Boss, prisoners are leaking out all over the place!"

"It's a bit more hectic, yes. It is far from a catastrophe," maintained the ever-calm CEO. "We are almost ready to move to the next stage of the plan, after all. And our opponent is still stuck on the 5th floor... isn't he."

"Yes, Boss, but--"

"Then he can't be a problem for much longer. All of our troubles are gathering in one spot, Herald--we can wipe them out with one fell swoop."

The CEO hovered his throne over to the main control panel. "Let's step up the offensive, Herald. It's time... to order Phase Three."


(Alright, gang, this marks the end of Story Arc 1. The first stage of Hector's plan seems successful, the killers are escaping and grouping together, and all the active players are finally free to walk out of their prisons--YES, even you, castlemanic. The CEO's mysterious plan is developing further... what horrifying secrets will we uncover as we progress further through our prison?)

(I'd like to take the time to thank all of you active players, for helping make this RP special; I'd also like to clarify that XAXEM IS ON VACATION with no access to a computer, and he will be resuming his post as Johnny C. sometime in August unless something allows him to do it earlier.)

(Let's make Story Arc 2 even more kick-ass, guys! Hell yes!)

[Wadling]

The Fear watched as Freddy concentrated, trying to get his powers again, it looked like he was struggling.

"No can do buddy" he said, rubbing his head "It just aint happenin'"

The Fear groaned, what was going on, why had that card melted at that time? I suppose they're watching us he thought.

He walked over to the door and rested his head against it, he slammed his fist into the metal over and over again.

Suddenly the room turned black, the female voice sounded once again.

"Main generator offline, backup generator coming online in 10 seconds, doors unpowered, occupants are asked to arm the-"

The Fear lurched into action and squeezed his fingers into the seams, Freddy joined him and together they pried the door open and rushed out.

"Backup generators failed" came the voice again "please head to your nearest security station and c-"

The Fear laughed with glee, this was fantastic, his eyes had already adjusted to the darkness, but he realized the same could not be said for Freddy.

"Umm, sorry buddy" He sounded confused "But where are ya? How can you see? It's pitch black here!"

The Fear turned, strangely talkative.

"Well i used to live in the forest, i'd sleep outside, hunt outside, eat outside, all of that." He continued "You can't do much in the forest at night if you can't see in the dark, so i'd stay up as much as possible so i got used to it."

"Ok, but i never did live in the forest" Freddy said "So i can't bloody see"

"Ok, hang on" He walked back the the panic room "I'm gonna check the guards."

He entered the room and searched the nearest guard, as expected he had a torch attached to his belt, it was slightly bloodied but it worked. He headed back to Freddy and handed him the torch.

"There" he said "that should help"

They carried on walking down the hallways until they reached the elevator

"Shall we give this another go?" asked Freddy

The Fear nodded "might as well"

He pressed the button, it didn't work. He did the same thing he did with the panic room doors and they slid open stiffly. He looked up and down the cold dark shaft and spotted a ladder on the side.

"Ok, theres a ladder to the right, we can use that to get up to the next floor, then we can see whats happening."

He moved along a ledge and grabbed the ladder, he began to climb, he looked down to see that Freddy had also began climbing. He was going for about two minutes before he saw another door, he jumped to the ledge and forced the door open, a thump behind him confirmed that Freddy had made it.

As The Fear stepped out into this new hallway, he looked around, it looked similar, but at least it was slightly different. A welcome change.

[castlemanic]

a slight whirring was heard, Sylar turned around, still in the darkness, all of a sudden the lights went on. Sylar looked down and found the gun he had used and the guard he had killed, but its electric circuits were sparking, sylar had shot it right in its core, but something else had been making the illusions. Sylar picked up the gun and looked around and found the door. 'i hate all these illusions.' Sylar said as he went to the door. he tried to open the door, but it was stuck in its position, he hit the door with his shoulder, the door opened. Sylar walked out and found corridors with numbers on them, he turned around and tried to see the number on his door but then a guard came at him, Sylar shot him and walked down the corridor. what he saw next blew him out of his mind.

[Varthonai]

Hector and Shriek were down in the Core, having finished their bloody work on the level above. The Joker was propped up against a wall on a pile of broken equipment, with bandages wrapped around his stomach.

"This is... wonderful," Hector grinned, eying the computer monitor. "I half-expected something would go wrong, but no... it worked."

"We're all very impressed, Hecky-boy," groaned the Joker, clutching his now-stitched-and-cleaned abdomen, "but you still haven't told us the rest of the plan!"

"We're in the Core, Joker. We've created a fake Administrator account on their network. We have access to so much of the Corporation Security now that we practically RUN the place."

Hector gave a vocal command to the machine. "Subject Gabriel Gray, AKA 'Sylar' has escaped confinement; initiate default security protocols."

"YES, ADMINISTRATOR."

A picture of Sylar appeared on the screen, showing him leaving his prison and passing security cameras.

"Who's this clown?" asked the Joker, peering closer. Shriek came to get a closer look as well.

"That is our distraction," Hector answered. "He's considered to be the most unstable prisoner in the complex, because he has the potential to grow as powerful as all the other prisoners combined. He steals the powers of those he defeats... so the obvious security measure when he escapes is to transfer him to a place with no superpowered prisoners."

There was a flash of green light, and Sylar disappeared from the camera.

Another window opened up on the screen, showing footage from a camera on Security Level 2. Sylar appeared in front of it in a second flash of green light.

"Sylar has a teleportation unit implanted in his chest," Hector explained. "They put it there when they first captured him. If he's ever about to kill someone who's too strong, someone who would give him more power, they can simply move him back to Level 2."

The Joker understood now. "So this 'Corporation' will send its troops down to Level 2 to reclaim Sylar..."

"And while they're gone, we move to build our forces on Level 5," Hector finished. "Exactly."

"But how much of a distraction to the Corporation can Sylar be if he has no powers?"

"Ah," Hector smiled. "That's the other part of the plan."

Hector opened up a third window and spoke aloud. "This is Core Command, speaking to Specialist Elite 'Brian Davis', Mr. Davis, you are ordered to deal with an immediate threat on Level 2, a Class-2 Outbreak. You still have your telekinetic powers, Mr. Davis, do you not?"

"I do, Command. Roger that."

"Wonderful, Mr. Davis. Wonderful."

[Wadling]

(Haha, Hector is running the place? With The Joker as one of his advisers? Thats perfectly hilarious.)

(Castlemaniac is the new lead role!)

[castlemanic]

(HELL YEAH, now for some sylar time xD)

*green flash* 'what the?' Sylar found himself in a similar corridor, he still had his gun, but he noticed the different camera, it had a different wiring system then the last on that he passed. 'i wonder what would happen... OOOOF' Sylar was sent crashing into the wall behind him. Sylar still had his gun but he kept it hidden. Sylar gasped, there in front of him stood the man he had killed before, Brian Davis, his arm pointing at Sylar.
'how are you still alive?'
'the corporation brought me back, and now i can have my revenge, you said you would help me, you said you would take it away, and now, even after i have been revived, i still have it, you LIED TO ME' Sylar was thrown against the ajacent wall. Sylar did all he could to conceal the gun while trying to aim at Brian.
'And now, i will make you pay for what you have done!' Brian pulled Sylar telekenetically close to him, putting them face to face. 'I want you to see my eyes, LOOK AT THE..' a shot was heard, sylar had aimed for Brians heart, if it didnt kill him again, it would atleast stall him. then Sylar hit him on the back of his head with the gun, making him fall to the floor, vulnerable, his head wide open. Sylar found a chip in brians head, it was sharp enough. 'Now i have you, and after this, you will not be reborn, i promise you.' sylar pulled the chip out of Brians head and proceeded to open his skull. a few minuted later, the blood soaked floor had peices of brain matter all over it. Sylar then telekinetically detached Brians arms and legs and cut his chest open and took out his heart. 'Try coming back from that.' Sylar said as he turned around, guards piled in aiming their guns at Sylar. Sylar felt the telekenisis flow through him, he felt its power, he realised this wasnt an illusion anymore.
'Let the fun begin.' He flicked his wrist and a dozen guards flew across the hallway with bone crushing force.

[Varthonai]

(Haha, Hector is running the place? With The Joker as one of his advisers? Thats perfectly hilarious.)

(Castlemaniac is the new lead role!)

(Yep. xD)

Belkar and Dwight McCarthy walked cautiously down the halls of Security Level 2. McCarthy held the map, examining it curiously, like some sort of predator plotting a kill.

I like this guy already, thought Belkar.

"Hey, McCarthy, check it out!" called Belkar. McCarthy looked up from the map.

"STAIRS!" Belkar shouted, dancing around joyfully on his little furry Halfling feet. "Hell yes! And I Spotted them without help! I am a sexy shoeless God of Spot Check!"

Then a bullet missed Belkar by inches and he literally jumped ten feet in the air as the Halfling's shock mixed with his +20 Ring of Jumping. "CRAP! We're under attack!" Belkar yelled, running and hiding behind McCarthy. "Uh, maybe you should check it out first..."

"THAT WAS YOUR ONE WARNING SHOT!" came a voice from around the corner. "GET DOWN ON THE GROUND! HANDS UP AND DROP THE KNIVES, BITTERLEAF! WE'VE GOT SNIPERS ALL OVER THE PLACE--ONE MOVE AND YOU'RE BOTH DEAD!"

Belkar looked around the place and saw nothing. Karma, I guess. I Spotted the staircase so of course I can't Spot the snipers too... maybe McCarthy can, though.

"Hey, Legolas!" Belkar whispered sarcastically to his makeshift "partner"; "What do thy Elf Eyes see?"


***

Robert Lee Stagger was nervous. He'd been training not to be nervous for almost a year, but only in simulations. Now he was tasked with his first Riot Control assignment; it wasn't even a real riot, since it only consisted of two escapees, but it still had gotten him nervous. He needed to control it, to think rationally. Think, Stagger. You can handle this.

"Captain Lee? Shouldn't we fire? We've got Level 11 Clearance, sir, we don't need to worry about capturing them."

"The first shot was supposed to hit the Halfling in his oversized little head, Officer. Ryan missed his target," Stagger growled, trying to mask his nervousness with aggression. "Now they know we're hidden. Every shot we make from now on is another clue to our position for McCarthy to pick up on--he's a better tactician than Bitterleaf in a firefight, and we can be sure he'll use every clue he gets."

"So we try to intimidate them first?"

"We try to intimidate them first," repeated Stagger. "Send a report to Command--at least we've found them."

"Yeah, but where's our backup team?"


***

"COMMAND! COMMAND! Someone ordered a Telekinetic-Class unit into Sylar's area!" screamed David McCallahan into his comlink. "He's slaughtering the backup Recon team! Send help! Send he--ARGlaxs.."

A large-caliber bullet propelled by sheer force of mind and will burst through David's skull.

"Now look what you made me do," hissed Sylar, flicking the comlink back off.

(castlemanic, you might try meeting up with Dwight McCarthy and Belkar if you like, since you're on the same floor and they could use your help)



BIG UPDATE: Guys, Story Arc 1 was so cool that I'm going to compile all of the in-game text, spell / grammar check it, edit it into a more novel-ish format, and put it up on my DA. Everyone will be credited with their specific character. If anyone has a problem with this please PM me.

[Wadling]

(Sounds good to me, when will it be up on your DA?)

[Varthonai]

(Sounds good to me, when will it be up on your DA?)

(Probably in 1-2 weeks. I just finished pasting the last of the in-game text into a Word document--and Story Arc I takes up exactly 130 pages of single-spaced, Lucida Grande, 13-point font. It's almost 40,000 words. Congrads, guys, we've basically written the first installment in a series of novels here. :thumbsup:)

[Wadling]

(We could totally make money out of this :lol:)

[DataaX]

(Sorry, If I havent been making posts in the last days. I will be sure to continue my posts)

[Varthonai]

Dear Die-Ary,

Today I escaped from reality. I still don't really know if it was real or not. Thinking about it is sort of making my head hurt.

I'm traveling with a fellow who professes himself to be a nightmare. This seems oddly poetic, in a way... this whole affair has a very dreamlike touch to it.

The Wall keeps getting thirsty. I've been giving it the remains of all the guards we've come across in our travels. I hope we keep running into people.





...now, that's something I never thought I'd hear myself say. This really IS a new experience for me!


The Corinthian walked cautiously down the hallway, silent as the grave. He waved for Nny to follow him.

*SQUEAK*

"Damn it, Nny, can't we make those wheels quieter somehow?"

Nny shrugged, and continued pulling the wheel-mounted Wall behind him like a child with an enormous wooden duck-on-a-string toy. An enormous wooden duck-on-a-string toy covered with the blood of ten thousand assholes.

"How often does it need to be painted?" asked the Corinthian, as Nny stopped to wipe a spot on the Wall with his red-coated paintbrush.

"About once every few days, depending on how much I painted it with the last time. Generally it's a good idea to keep it bright red... when it starts to dry and turn black, you know it's a bad sign."

The Corinthian nodded. "All right, then. Let's--"

Suddenly the Corinthian stopped, whirled around, and crouched behind a corner. "What is it?" whispered Nny.

"I heard someone breathing," the Corinthian whispered back. "Just around the corner of this wall..."

"Oh," Nny said. "...why are we whispering?"

"To avoid attracting attention, Nny."

"The Wall could use another coat, though. I don't think we need to bother."

"It was coated ten minutes ago, Nny, I don't think that..."

Too late. Johnny was already heading around the corner, leaving the Corinthian and the Wall behind him. He clutched two long knives in his hands, ready to kill. "No! Nny, this is--"

"SURPRISE, ASSHOLE!"

A man with a horribly burned face leapt onto the Corinthian from behind and slashed his back with a bladed glove. "Ya like that, ya son of a bitch?!" roared the maniac, laughing maniacally. The Corinthian tried to twist around, but Freddy Krueger held him still in a vice-like grip.

Nny turned around to come back and help, but was struck by an invisible fist and flung into the concrete wall on the other side of the hallway. "Ahhh..." came a disembodied voice. "Your fear is exquisite to me..."

"Ya may've sensed my invisible partner over there with a clever lil' trick," Freddy hissed, "but guess what, jackass? I'm already dead. I don't breathe anymore! Hahahahahaha!!"

Freddy pulled off the Corinthian's sunglasses and thrust two clawed fingers into the nightmare's sockets, not realizing that the Corinthian had a very unusual anatomical face design. The nightmare bit down hard on both of Freddy's fingers, not quite breaking them but drawing blood painfully.

"AGH!!" screamed Freddy, pulling the fingers back out. "AAAAGH!! You FREAK! You goddamn freaky little sh*t!"

The Corinthian took advantage of Freddy's surprise and broke free, turning and punching Freddy hard in the face. He kicked Freddy twice in the stomach, and the child murderer vomited powerfully.

When Freddy's vomiting subsided, the Corinthian was holding him by the throat and sticking an open Swiss Army knife into his mouth. "One false move and I carve that grin of yours five times wider," growled the nightmare. Then the Corinthian turned to look back at Nny. "Johnny? Nny, are you all right?"

Nny and the invisible assailant were both gone; the battle must have taken them elsewhere. A blood trail led off down another corridor... whether it was the blood of Nny or his attacker remained to be seen.

The Corinthian got behind Freddy but kept the knife in his mouth. "You first," said the Corinthian, politely. "I want to see my friend again and you're going to be my meat shield. If your friend is reasonably loyal we shouldn't have any problems, now, should we?"

Freddy mumbled something incomprehensible. It's difficult to speak when the slightest wrong syllable can make you accidentally slice your own tongue.

"Walk. And don't stop unless I say so."


(Wadling, you should fill in what happened while the Corinthian was preoccupied fighting with Freddy. And clarify whose blood the trail is from; the choice is yours. Neither you nor Nny is permitted to die, though... but that's obvious, since you won't kill yourself and Nny can't be killed by other people. :D)

[Wadling]

(Got it)

The Fear saw his companion make his move, attacking the one with the sunglasses and the bleached hair, leaving him to attack the skinny one with the swords. As 'skinny' turned to see what was happening The Fear made his move.

He ran forward, planting a fist into the left cheek of Johnny's face, the blow had only meant to knock him to the floor, but instead he went flying into a wall opposite. The Fear had either hit him too hard, or this opponent was extremely underweight. He switched off his invisibility.

He moved towards him and lifted him up by the throat, he felt an emotion coming off him in waves.

"Ahhh" He hissed "Your fear is quite exquisite to me, but no... thats not fear thats."

Johnny's face contorted into a manic grin, the sort of grin that makes you shiver just thinking about it. He shouted what The Fear was about to say.

"INSANITY!" he lashed out with a sword, aiming for his stomach. The Fear let him drop and twisted out of the way.

The Fear smiled, no Freddy in sight, just him and me. Johnny sprang forward with a flurry of movement, slicing his swords wildly. The Fear smiled, this man WAS insane!

The Fear hopped delicately over the first swipe and ducked another, he span sideways to avoid two at once. He used this opportunity to bend down and sweep his legs from underneath him. While he was on the floor he stamped into his face with his heavy boots, spraying blood down the corridor.

Nny mumbled something that sounded like "not again" before stumbling to his feet. "Why can't you people just GIVE ME YOUR BLOOD!?" he screamed running at The Fear cutting the air with his swords.

The Fear backed away, dodging the attacks until they were round the corner. He used the corner as a strategic point. As Nny came running round the corner The Fear grasped his right wrist with his right hand, and planted his left hand on his back. He moved his right hand from the wrist to the sword.

He pushed with all his might with his left hand while pulling the sword with his other. Nny let go of the sword as he tumbled to the ground. The Fear bolted towards him and kicked the other sword away, planting a knee on Nny's throat (see what i did there). He put an arm around his neck and pulled him up, placing the sword very close to his neck.

He walked with him, having to force him to move every now and again by pulling on his neck painfully. They walked round the corner to see Freddy with a swiss army knife in his mouth.

"Oh COME ON!" The Fear yelled in anger "It was your idea to attack them! How is it that you get caught while I, the one who wanted to talk with them, manage to take one out." He was fed up with this Freddy.

Nny forced a whisper out, managing to get some air out of his squeezed windpipe.

"What now?" he asked.

[castlemanic]

(yeah we could make a book out of this, lol)

(varth, everyone in the corporation has that healing thing right? also can i 'randomly' meet up with Mcarthy and bitterleaf?)

(one other thing, Sylar has telekenetically induced powers, the three powers used (as far as i remember) are telekenetically induced superhuman durability, not to supermans level but enough to stop bullets from killing him, superhuman strength, enough to throw a person with bone breaking force, but not enough to lift a truck, and some sort of levetation, he used it once before when he snuck up on a person with superhearing abilities who is able to hear rain from 40 miles away, she turns to Sylar and she says 'i didnt hear any footsteps' Sylar replies 'there werent any', i will be using these in game for future reference, so nobody say i cant do these things. the main one ill use is the durability one.)

[Wadling]

(I think Varth even suggested that you meet up with Mcarthey and Bitterleaf, as they are going to die without your help.)

[castlemanic]

(ok good, ill go with that)

Sylar continued down the hallway. Troops stormed their way through the hallways, only the be crushed by Sylars telekenisis, and sometimes literally. He threw one guard across the hallway and against the wall, killing him instanly. he grabbed another guard and pinned him against the wall. 'Wheres the way out?' the guard was hanging their, unable to protect himself. 'i said, where the way out?' on the word "out", sylars voice slightly became demonic, the guards eyes flew wide open.
'th-h-h-h-at w-w-w-ay.' the guard pointed in a direction. Sylar killed him and took his pistol, he learned from losing his powers due to the virus that he should always have a backup plan. Sylar turned the corner and found a set of stairs and two men on the floor, one strangely short. Sylar threw them both on opposite sides of the corridor. 'DO YOU EXPECT ME TO NOT REALISE ITS A TRAP!?' A shot was fired, the bullet hit Sylar in the chest. Sylar staggered backwards. two more shots were fired, the second one hit his chest again, the third stopped in mid air, right infront of sylars forhead, he analyzed the direction of the bullet. the two bullets that hit Sylars chest fell to the floor. Sylar looked up, turned the bullet around and threw it in the direction that it came, dropped the two men he had pinned against the wall and slowly walked towards the area where the bullets came from.

[Varthonai]

The Corinthian heard a voice whispering softly at the end of the corridor as he approached with Freddy in tow.

Hm, the nightmare thought. If we BOTH have a hostage, things can only go downhill from here.

The Corinthian moved away, back around the corner, and rethought his strategy. First he found the body of a guard, with three sets of handcuffs. He used one set to restrain Freddy's hands, another to restrain his feet, and a third to bind the two first sets together, leaving Freddy on the floor in reverse-fetal position. I'll need both hands ready for this.

The Corinthian looked back at the Wall that they had left around the edge of the corridor. I'm pretty sure that I've got a score to settle with you, thought the Corinthian. He thought it as loudly as he could, probably in the hope that the Wall could hear him. Now's the chance to square...


***

The Fear was confused. Was the nightmare abandoning Nny for some reason? What should he do? How soon should he act?

And... what was that infernal squeaking noise coming down the--

BOOM. The Wall-on-wheels went airborne as the Corinthian picked it up and hurled it like a guided missile. The Fear let Nny go in panic to dodge the massive improvised weapon and reactivated his active camouflage.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are," hissed the Corinthian loudly. "Nny, get back over there. I've restrained the other one but I don't know how powerful he is. He could free himself at any moment."

Nny picked up his weapons and complied without hesitation, running around the corner of the room with a wild and wide smile. The Corinthian continued to pace the room like a tiger, looking for some hint of the Fear's position.

*THUNK*

"Ow." The Corinthian looked down to see an arrowhead embedded in his left wrist. He pulled it out and saw something smeared over the tip.

The nightmare brought the bolt close to his mouth and licked it. "Hm," he thought aloud, "this is Brazilian Wandering Spider venom, isn't it? Wouldn't it be cheaper to buy a poison that's commercially available? Like artificial sweetener? Why go to all the trouble to milk a deadly spider's fangs?"

The Corinthian threw away the bolt and cast another glance around the room. "Oh, and by the way--I'm a nightmare. That means no metabolism for the poison to destroy. Nice try, tho--"

An invisible fist slammed into the Corinthian's chest, knocking him a few steps back. The Corinthian lashed out with his knife but hit nothing.

"I'm going to enjoy this," grinned the Corinthian. "Lay on, then."


***

Nny arrived around the corridor to find three sets of scratched handcuffs, each with clawmarks around the keyholes.

"Hm..." Nny thought, pensively. "He must have melted in the presence of cold iron, like a bad fairy."

"OR I CHEWED THROUGH THE STEEL WITH MY BARE TEETH, MOTHERF*CKER!!!"

Freddy lunged at Nny, and they began to fight in a whirlwind of blades and fury.

(W00t! It's Freddy vs. Johnny! This will break the box office record set by Freddy vs. Jason by three figures.)

[Wadling]

(Is there also a Fear vs Corinthian fight happening then? If so, how're we going to write it, i've only fought NPC's and people who were away up to this point.)

(Also, loved the wall attack, never saw it coming.)

[Varthonai]

(Is there also a Fear vs Corinthian fight happening then? If so, how're we going to write it, i've only fought NPC's and people who were away up to this point.)

(Like this. One move at a time, not controlling the other character's actions.)

The Corinthian listened hard and heard footsteps. Left.

The nightmare punched hard left and followed up with a stabbing motion from his knife. The first blow connected but knocked the target too far away from his second blow. Damn it.

"Who are you?" hissed the Corinthian. "Why did you attack us?"