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 Posted: Sun Jul 10, 2011 3:24 pm
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xxxxx► ► Get' em Talking!
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Mr. X
╚══════════════╝
Objective : Capture and Interrogate one retired superhero, The Imp, in order to ascertain the location of a locket.
Villain Quota : 2
Duration : Until Resolvedd
Skill Required : ★ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆
Reward : 400 megards + bonus
xxxxxPlot [Part I] : During his golden years, Mr. X fought tooth and nail against The Imp, a superhero, who opposed him. While amidst one of their numerous battles, The Imp stole a locket from Mr. X. It's contents were not disclosed, and Mr. X has asked that the villains on the mission not look inside. He's requested that we return his locket.xxxxxPlot [Part II] : Fill out after the mission is complete explaining how the mission went. ╔══════════════╗
Now Introducing, Mr. X!
╚══════════════╝ xxxxx The reason this mission is happening, Mr. X. A bitter old villain, who is nearing the end of his days, and wants to reclaim a prize that was stolen from him. In order to accomplish this task, he has hired a group of villains. ╔══════════════╗
Now Introducing, The Imp!
╚══════════════╝ xxxxxA burly tank of a hero, The Imp doesn't stop seeking justice, even as he's getting along in his years. His power is a superhuman endurance to pain, which requires a special skill set, in order to render him paralyzed to capture. The Imp wears a full suit of armor that only augments his already staggering defense.
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Posted: Sun Jul 10, 2011 6:11 pm
"Samson" :
It had been a while since he had donned the outfit again. Usually he tried to do a job once a month, but it seemed that business was slow last month. The mask was comfortable, figuratively, and Samson grinned with a sheer simple pleasure of being able to come out again.
Joseph was not insane, of course. Samson was simply a persona, but one he had lovingly crafted over the years, and putting on the outfit was like slipping into a rarely worn and favorite outfit. Of course, part of the reason he loved the outfit was because it was so damned eclectic.
Samson was wearing his usual outfit which consisted of a pair of heavy steel-toed boots, made for working on oil rigs and ships. Slowly working up his body, he was wearing black down-filled pants, and a black and puffy coat. Over the coat and pants, he wore an honest-to-goodness toga cinched at the shoulder with a golden buckle.
He had long, golden curly locks of hair flowing down over his shoulders, and a golden mask that covered the space around his eyes, nose and the sides of his face. However, his grin was clearly apparent, as were his green-brown eyes. Every time he moved, there was the swish-swish-swish of the winter coat and pants brushing against itself, but underneath that there was something more, a constant tinkling of metal. Whatever the case, with the coat on, Samson looked absolutely obese.
Of course, as Samson thought to himself joyfully, I am was wearing an additional hundred pounds of metal shavings. It had taken him a year to steal enough iron shavings from work to line the formerly down-filled coat and pants with the metal.
Yes, it meant he had to wear a very tight belt, uncomfortable about his midriff, as well as suspenders underneath the coat. Yes, it was usually very hot during the summer and very cold during the winter. Yes, it meant he couldn't run as fast, or if he changed directions, he would tumble to the ground.
But the suit afforded him other benefits. For one, it meant he could use his strength more effectively. Also, probably more importantly, it made people underestimate him. No one expects a five-and-a-half-feet tall, three-hundred-pound man lift them up by their throat, which, with the extra weight in the suit, mean he could actually do that sort of thing occasionally. If the person was light enough.
It didn't afford him any more protection from weapons however, as the metal was too thinly packed and not dense enough. But for now, it suited Samson and it suited his mindset. Do the unexpected.
So the golden-haired and golden-masked man walked down the street, with his strange-sounding coat and pants, covered, partially, by the over-one-shoulder toga and carried along by heavy work boots. Oh, and Samson was carrying a three foot length of a pole, which looked like it had been stolen from a chain-link fence and broken in half. Which it had been, just earlier that night.
Samson slid between the two lamp posts, set up across the street from the storage facility for people who were rich enough to pay for space for their extra crap. He stood between two lamp posts, in the dimmest spot, leaning against a gas station back wall. He was waiting for his so called cohort in crime, this far out of the city, almost in the suburbs, he had to walk four miles to reach the location from the nearest subway. Samson was a little early, having left hours before, but not extremely early. He had walked here leisurely, taking breaks to cool down every so often. No need to get tired before the deed was started, he always thought.
Between the two lamp posts, it wasn't hard to spot the masked villain, as the lamp light glinted slightly off his golden hair and mask.
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Currently Cuprous Vice Captain
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Posted: Tue Jul 12, 2011 2:45 am
The Visionary was clad in Rick's alter ego's clothing, his white lab coat billowed in the wind, exposing the back of white khakis. It was a shame that The Visionary's chosen costume served as less than ideal camouflage at night; it would make this mission that much harder. The Visionary thought back to the costume store, months ago, when he had chosen a white mad scientist costume not black. Rick lamented his decision, looking ahead and spotting Samson. This was the other villain who Mr. X had said would be on the mission. The Visionary hoped that his fellow villain proved useful, this mission successful, and his rewards worthwhile. The villain walked up to his temporary partner, which ticked off Rick, who hated the burden of looking after a partner. He looked the man up and down, accessing whether he should just go home. The Visionary's mind drifted to the megards, oh the megards, and a potential bonus. These things were the driving incentive for The Visionary and the renown that would come with beating a veteran super.
Word on the street is that The Imp has aged gracefully, maintaining his physical prowess and mental fortitude.
"Have you been briefed?"
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Posted: Tue Jul 12, 2011 4:18 am
"Samson":
Samson saw the other man stroll up to him, and he turned to face the serious looking man in a lab coat. Samson's grin widened, and his white teeth could be seen flashing in the dim lamplight.
The man asked his brief question, Samson answered with a calm slowly Texan drawl, "Well, tha's a friendly howdy-doo, ain't it? Tha' names Samson. A pleasure to meetcha'." His accent was strong, almost, but not quite, too strong to be believable. Joseph was proud of it, and it was the finishing touch on Samson's character. Samson offered his white gloved hand to The Visionary. The palm of the gloves were rubberized for friction, perhaps climbing.
Answering his question, Samson nodded, pointing at the storage facility across the street with the three foot pole in his hand. "I sure have been. Imp is currently the possessor of a locket that belongs to sadly be-reft Mista' X. Mista' X has tasked us with getting the a-fore-mentioned locket back. By any means necessary. O' course, we have to get our hands on the unnaturally tough Imp first." Samson inclined his head, "Or that has been the gist of what I have been told."
For most of the time he was talking, Samson's eyes had wandered all about, from the storage container, to the gas station wall to down the streets in both directions. Now his eyes slid back to the Visionary's face. "So. Briefing re-briefed, how would you like to go about this soiree? Do you have a plan to lure him out? Word has it, he works his night shifts somewhere around this area."
Still grinning with unexplained mirth and joy, he let his partner answer.
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Currently Cuprous Vice Captain
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Posted: Tue Jul 12, 2011 10:23 pm
The Visionary wasn't one to be rude, in terms of social courtesies, usually, extending his own hand in turn; Rick shook Samson's hand, returning his polite gesture. Although despite his unwillingness to be rude, Rick could already tell from a small glimpse of Samson's personality that they wouldn't be life-long chums. The lad was simply too chipper and happy; this wasn't supposed at the be the nature of a villain, at least as The Visionary understood. The Visionary took in Samson's description of the mission. Nodding his head, at least the man's understanding of their goal was correct. Rick breathed in before continuing, a wide grin spread upon his face. A non-muscular right arm jerked upwards, forming a ninety degree angle with his elbow, thumb pointing backwards towards the bar, McGinty's.
"Actually he works in that bar. The plan is simple; you will tail him from the roof when he leaves, acting as backup for me. I will tail him for a distance away from the bar, and attempt to subdue him using my illusions." The super villain considered his plan yet again in his head. Yes this seems like the most logical route, Rick thought.
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Posted: Wed Jul 13, 2011 4:03 am
Samson nodded slowly, seeming considerate, before saying, "Well. Okay. I dun' think that I would be all that great as a wall flowa' mind you. I ain't no Arachnaman. I can't just leap 'round buildings. So you best make a decision about where to start these here illusions and ambushs rather quick. He might catch on the the clamorin' from the roofs where I am trying to scramble to the next building."
Samson was not going to be able to be stealthy, leap from building to building and keep pace with Imp, all at the same time. He could do two of them, but not likely all three. "If'n you want to keep a longer element of surprise, I'd probly do best somewhere on the street myself. Once we get an idea of where we are goin' you can slip ahead to get the drop on 'im."
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Currently Cuprous Vice Captain
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Posted: Wed Jul 13, 2011 4:26 am
The Visionary looked about, his gaze drifted to the large clock tower above him, which read 4:00 AM. Every bar in town was closed, and the staff slowly making their way home. Soon The Imp would be leaving McGinty's. "What are you capabilities," Rick questioned. It seemed his skill set wasn't physical, due to his unwilling to scale a building. The Visionary didn't blame him, being muscularly lacking; he tried to avoid physical conflict whenever possible, utilizing his mind to stop his opponents. Hopefully his mind could stop The Imp. The super villain leaned against the light post, basking in it's light; it felt at least a degree warmer outside, and that was reason enough for Rick to wanna stand there. Megalopolis was in the dead of winter, and it had to be less than fifty degrees outside. His breath looked like drags from a cigarette; "I hate the cold..."
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Posted: Thu Jul 14, 2011 12:37 pm
Inside the bar, the lights that could been seen from the outside windows dimmed as the Imp pressed his thumb on the light switch, pushing it downward. In his other hand, he held a wine glass which he had been carefully polishing. Job done, the Imp fumbled his way through the darkness towards the storage room in the back, nearly tripping over the doorway. Placing the glass and rag back on the shelf where they belonged, he did a quick double check of all the doors before walking back into the main room of the bar.
He hadn't weathered the years as well as most other supers, the Imp couldn't deny that. Still, only a fool would try to ambush him, even in a state like this. Spitting on the ground, the Imp stomped on the saliva with his thick boots and sighed, taking out a cigarette. With the bar closed, he should be leaving soon. Yet he felt obliged to have a good smoke first before stepping out into the night
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Currently Cuprous Vice Captain
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Posted: Thu Jul 14, 2011 3:18 pm
Samson"
Samson shrugged, "Nothing fancy. Similar to Imp, but not to the same level, just able to take blows well. More of a super strength kind of guy-" He saw the bar's lights dim, and frowned and his smile dimmed. "But while I could jump from building to building, it would be noticed. I am not a flower ballerina boy. I will be a-bouncing and a-rolling to a stop every time I try to land. Not to mention it might mess up my lovely golden locks.."
He his tone changed a bit more serious as he finished up. "Time's awasting. I think we would have a rather better chance if we wait on each end of the block for him, and whoever is ahead of him tails him 'til the one who waited at the wrong block catches up. But I defer to you, sir. If you want me to climb, I will climb. Whatchu' wanna do?"
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Posted: Sat Jul 16, 2011 4:55 pm
The Visionary groaned inwardly, his partner was capable but lazy? Just my luck, Rick thought, a partner who is unwilling. "Climb," The Visionary said coldly as he began, gesturing suggestively towards the fire escape on the building to the left of the bar. "Easy enough for a strongman, yes?" Even the less than physically capable Visionary could manage to climb a fire escape. The Visionary sparked a cigarette, in order to become less noticeable, hiding out in the open, a clever strategy in his mind. Although due to being dressed in his costume, Rick was doomed to stand out a bit. The Visionary took refuge in the alley, hiding from the illuminating qualities of the streetlights. The darkness hid his all-white costume decently, The Imp would more than likely pay little attention silhouette when he exited McGinty's.
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Posted: Sun Jul 17, 2011 3:46 am
Removing the cigarette from his mouth, the Imp exhaled slowly, watching the plume of smoke drifted towards the ceiling, dancing and wavering before evaporating in the darkness of the bar. Languidly, he looked out the window at the street, as if he expected to see something there. The thought then crossed his mind at how ridiculous that was. Yeah right...I'm starting to become unnecessarily paranoid in my old age.Snorting, he took a single last puff before squishing the cigarette violently between his middle finger and thumb.
Tossing the remnants behind him-knowing it was going to hit the waste bin-the Imp grabbed the gigantic jacket draped across the back of a chair, and sliding it on, placed a hand on the door handle. Suspiciously, he took another look behind him, ascertaining that the glasses were all in their appropriate place, the rags were thrown away,and the counter tops were polished clean. Grunting in satisfaction, the Imp checked his watch: 4:10. It was time to abandon his shift.
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Posted: Mon Jul 18, 2011 5:37 pm
Samson's smile widened, this time with scorn. "Yer da' boss then. Give me half a' moment." Samson set the pole down and sauntered to the building next to the one home to the bar. He wasn't stupid enough to try to climb the one with the tavern.
He stood underneath the ladder that lead up to the second floor of the building. At barely five feet and three hundred pounds, it would be an incredible feet to see him leap up to the first rung, nearly eight feet up from the ground. He crouched, then leapt up, knowing this would hurt well before grabbing that first rung. He latched onto the metal with as much force as his grip would give him, but he felt his right shoulder wrench painfully, and the entire fire escape shook and rattled with the sudden impact at it's base, as his outfit tinkled from the metal filings, almost musically.
Samson slowly pulled himself up, lifting himself through the pain and up the ladder rungs. Finally he reached a point where he could use his legs. He started to climb with real gusto, and no little noise, making it up to the top floor of the building. He was panting and wheezing a little at the top. He did not have any abilities that gave him an increased absorption of oxygen, so he could lose his breath as easily as the next schmo.
Samson perched at the edge of the building he stood on, above the lamp lights below, and trying to keep an eye on the front of the building that contained the bar. He had no idea how he was going to get down from here in any real quick fashion. Most of the buildings around here were three or four stories tall, and he damn well wasn't going to leap down from here. But it was The Visionary's plan, and he would stick to it. If they failed, it was no skin of his bones. He would like the money, but it wasn't going to pay the rent.
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Currently Cuprous Vice Captain
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Posted: Mon Jul 18, 2011 9:20 pm
The Visionary took a drag from his cigarette as Samson made his way up the side of the building. The plan would work, unless The Imp managed to avoid getting caught in, or escape his mental trap. Rick exhaled another pull of the cigarette, only time will tell, he thought. The Visionary’s gaze shifted upwards, towards a sky currently aiding his plan’s success. The moon lay stuck behind a cloud; its lightening glow unable to take away from the darkness of the night. The Visionary grinned, maybe luck will be on my side? His eyes attention turned back to his partner, who still made his way up the building. The Visionary’s assent was less than gracefully, solidifying Rick’s idea that he was strictly strength and no tact. It seemed the two, The Visionary and Samson, were living examples of the stereotypical duo: Brains and Brawn. It was a necessary boon when the strongman finally moved into position. “Good,” The Visionary whispered so that only he could hear.
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Posted: Tue Jul 19, 2011 11:06 am
Hoping that it wasn't going to be chilly outside, the Imp nudged the door open with his foot and stepped outside into the night. As the door silently swung shot behind him, he couldn't help but feel that something seemed a little amiss tonight. What felt like eyes trailing after him put the Imp on alert. However, he wasn't too concerned. Probably just some stray dog or cat...this neighborhood's got tons of 'em Grunting and willing himself to believe it, the Imp stuffed his hands in his pocket and strutted off down the street, a slight swagger in his step. How his comrades from the old days would laugh if they saw his paranoia now. No, he wasn't going to degrade himself to such a level where he would look over his shoulder every three seconds just to see if someone was following him nor not. He might be getting old, but there was no way he was going to let himself get senile and paranoid. Chuckling, he continued walking down the street.
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Currently Cuprous Vice Captain
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Posted: Wed Jul 20, 2011 2:53 pm
"Samson": Samson saw the Imp leave, and mentally cursed as the man began walking down the opposite direction than the one that Samson was in. He backed away from the ledge of the building, eying the next one over. it was a little higher up, but the alley was narrow. He could make it. He was pretty sure. After waiting just long enough to pray that the Imp was outside of direct hearing, he sprinted at the building ledge, leaping at the last moment, looking for a little bit of both lift and length in his jump.
He got almost enough of both. His feet snagged on the ledge of the next building, though he had already been angling sideways to roll when he hit the building. Catching the ledge just smashed him harder into the grround initially than he expected, making a large crack noise as his forearms kept his face from smashing into the ground. Pained, but alive and still moving, he rolled to a stop, and stood. The entire action was covered by the sound of swishing metallic rain as the materials in his coat shifted. He ambled slowly over to the ledge of the building, keeping his eye on the Imp from atop the building the Bar was located in.
The next building was the same height. Once the Imp was a little further along, he would make the next jump. Then the next....
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