Character Creation Contest #40

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ImpurestCheese

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#1  Edited By ImpurestCheese

Alright Men, Women and er small children, you have one objective today and that is to write a character for a squad.

No Caption Provided

"Er what squad?" I hear somebody say, before giving them that annoyed look I do.

The Squad in question is a suicide squad, maybe even 'the suicide squad' although I'm not limiting it to a DC comics thing, or even a Marvel thing. Yep that's right you can go Wildstorm, Vertigo, Top Cow even 5th Column for all I care, just as long as the character is a unique creation from the unique minds that lurk out on the Fan-Fic board.

"But what about the time limit?" That same annoying person so close to being dropkicked over a ditch and into a field of cows asks.

Well you have until 18:30 GMT on the 12th August to accomplish your mission. For those Americans that is 13:30 Eastern Seaboard Time and 10:30 Pacific Time. If your name happens to be Batkevin that generally translates to 04:00 on the 13th.

Without further ado I wish you good luck and good writing.

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#2  Edited By ImpurestCheese
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#4  Edited By ImpurestCheese

@wildvine: Well I'm more inclusive then everyone else when it comes to times.

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dngn4774

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@wildvine: Well I'm more inclusive then everyone else when it comes to times.

That's why we have google. ;)

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@impurestcheese: So we need to create a villain that is roped into a suicide squad? Just making sure I'm reading that correctly.

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#7  Edited By ImpurestCheese
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batkevin74

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@waezi2:

The contests here are always open to all comers.

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Awesome looking forward to creating an entry.

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Sounds interesting. I'll see what I can do despite my busy schedule.

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#16  Edited By ImpurestCheese

Well let's get this suicidal ball rolling with my entry...

5th Column Comics: Fireteam Hades

The Cistern, Classified Location somewhere under Indigo City

The Cistern dripped from the pipes that ran along the roof, pools of waste-water lining the floor, and flowing around the bodies lying on the concrete, the single light flickering on and off. All was quiet for a few seconds, before an electrical charge ran across the unconscious bodies, their arms and legs twitching, before one after another they got to their feet.

“Ugh I knew I shouldn’t have had that eighth beer.” A man wearing black armour grunted in an Australian accent, before looking down at his wrists, and the chains binding him to the floor. “Okay which one of you b****y w*****s chained me to the floor, if this is some fetish thing I’ll rip your throats out one by one.”

“Oh shut up.” A woman answered in a Hispanic accent, “It’s not like you’re the only one chained down here.” She added, as she moved under the light to reveal green skin covered in needle like barbs clad in ripped jeans and a crop top. “You’re not even the strongest one here.” She added, as she shook her head, her long green hair flowing around her neck.

“And I suppose you think you are?” A large man dressed in overalls snorted, the light bouncing off his bald head and big black bushy beard.

“I’m the only carrier here.” The green skinned woman announced proudly, as she strained to free herself. “So therefore I must be.”

No Caption Provided

“You are mistaken Miss Rojas.” A voice announced from a speaker mounted on the wall. “There are multiple carriers in this room, and as for power…”the speaker paused as a fierce electrical shock arched up and down the figures in the room. “…I’m the one who has it. But enough about that, you are here because at current you are the worst criminals in Indigo City. With the Blight Wars coming to a close it has become clear that men and women like you have had too much freedom, that you have abused your powers and abilities and we will not stand for this.”

No Caption Provided

“So what you decided to shackle us?” Another woman, this one with dark mocha coloured skin and flowing ash white hair, asked, as she knelt down, her leather pants and corset squeaking slightly due to friction.

“Correct Miss Morningstar.” The voice announced. “Down here you can’t fulfil those murderous urges you all have. But the thing is, those urges, that need to murder everyone you come across, well right now my employers need that” The voice stated, as the chains binding the prisoners fell apart. “Right now you are below the headquarters of the PMC known as Mattock Military Solutions, I’m barricade in the control room downloading some sensitive data. If you could be nice enough to come find me, I’d be most obliged.”

“What do we owe you? Nothing that’s it!” The armoured man spat, as he rubbed his wrists and glowered around the room. “You may think you can count on the freak-show but I’m in the wind.” He added, as he walked to the door, only to receive an electric shock, one that forced him to his knees.

No Caption Provided

“I still have the power Mr Collins.” The voice announced, as the ashen haired woman walked to the door before stroking the metal. “And even among your fellow prisoners, you are the weakest. I suggest you toe the line, that you all toe the line or you end up in a coma.” He added, as the woman closed her fingers into a fist, the door and part of the wall sinking into the ground. Cocking her head to one side the woman stepped through into a brightly lit corridor, one ringing with the sound of alarms. “Good, looks like you got out of the room, you have permission to do whatever you want to anyone who gets between yourselves and my position, and that includes each other, consider that my gift to you.”

“Yeah right so anyone know where here and there is?” Collins spat, as the group of prisoners walked down the hallway, each one eyeing the others up and wondering what they were capable of.

“We are currently ten levels below ground.” Morningstar stated, as she ran her hands along the walls as she walked. “The earth is all around us, and she is not impressed by all this metal being sunk into her flesh.”

“You some kind of hippie Morningstar?” The man with the beard stated, as the group stopped at a door locked with a palm scanner.

“No, but I am a Geokinetic.” Morningstar replied, as a thin bald woman wearing a snake skin leotard and ballet flats walked to the front, and rubbed her fingers together. “And call me Earthstar, you mention my slave name again and I’ll give you your own personal volcano.” She added, as the bald woman began to pull off her skin, new features forming below, not to mention short golden cropped hair. Placing her hand on the scanner, an optical laser shot across the surface, before the door lock hissed, and disengaged.

No Caption Provided

“What in the?” Rojas asked, as the woman picked up her sloughed skin and draped it over her shoulders. “That was freaky as hell.”

“Maybe to you, I myself have grown used to it.” The bald woman replied in an upper class British accent, as the group continued into the next corridor, the sound of boot steps thundering down stairs sounding above them. “Call me Trace, and don’t bother introducing yourselves, I know who you all are?”

“What you psychic?” Collins asked, as the door before them hissed open and seven men wearing black armour emblazoned with an orange spade appeared, machine pistols and shotguns drawn and ready. Before anyone could reply Rojas opened fire, barbed quills shooting across the room and stabbing into the eyes and faces of six of the men. Shocked and surprised, the last soldier fired a quick round before Collins closed the gap, his hands sprouting razor sharp talons that ripped the man’s head off.

“No, I stole the plans for this little team, you’re working for the CBTF as part of a scheme called Fireteam Hades.” Trace whispered, as she clutched her chest, a bullet hole drilled into her stomach. “I can’t tell you anymore, I’m sorry.” She whispered, before sliding down the wall and closing her eyes.

“Figures.” Collins snorted, as the big man with a beard, and a second man dressed in gladiatorial armour bended down next to Trace’s body. “What you two weirdos stealing her s**t?”

No Caption Provided

“No, just seeing if I can do anything to help.” The bald man replied. “I used to be an engineer with the army, I saw enough gunshot wounds to know how to fix one. Unfortunately Trace is too far gone, it’s a shame too she was such a beautiful woman too. Just a shame I didn’t have all of my tool kit, he sighed, as he removed a USB key and a long cylinder from his belt. “Now let Vulcan see that troubled mind chica.” He mumbled, as the gladiatorial finger placed his hand on Trace’s, and pulled three of the fingers out of the socket. Raising them to his mouth, he stopped and shuddered as electricity shot through his body, causing him to drop the fingers.

“I can see you.” The voice announced over the PA system. “Vulcan, Myrmidon leave her, we have far more important things to accomplish here.” He ordered, as Myrmidon snarled something under his breath, before walking over to the door the security guards had been behind, the others following him at a distance. Reaching the end of the corridor, Myrmidon ripped the lift doors open and stared up the shaft, his eyes narrowing.

“Anyone got a way to get up the shaft?” Rojas asked, as Collins pushed to the front, his arms held wide as an array of metallic feathers sprouted.

No Caption Provided

“Too bad you can’t fly.” Collins sneered as he took to the air and soared up the shaft. Shaking his head Myrmidon collapsed, his body exploding into a swarm of ants, all of whom scuttled into the shaft before climbing up the sides.

“And I thought Trace was weird…” Vulcan sighed, as Earthstar leapt into the shaft, a chunk of metal and rock rising up the shaft with her standing crouched on the top. “Any chance of a ride?” He asked, as Earthstar cocked her head to one side, before moving over for Rojas and Vulcan to climb onto the stone. Seconds later lava was climbing up the shaft, the rock rising up until it came to a stop next to the doors where Collins was hovering, trying to cut through the doors.

“Get out the way.” Earthstar ordered, as she melted the door lock just enough for her to prize the doors open. Walking out the lift shaft, the group of criminals came to a stop as they realised they were in a massive room filled with security personnel. “Oh c**p!!” She spat, as every gun in the room was trained on them. “Would you guys believe we’re the pest control team?” She added, as one of the guards pushed himself to the forefront of the mercenary security.

“Not one bit.” He drawled in a Texan accent, as he drew his machine pistol. “Now you four put your hands up!!” He ordered, only to see the intruder stand their ground.

“Four?” Vulcan asked, as he eyed up the array of guns pointed at them, not noticing the ants covertly making their way out of the lift-shaft towards the assembled security. “What happened to Myrmidon?” He asked, as the first shots rang out.

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batkevin74

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@impurestcheese: umm didn't you just post/re-post this as a 5th Column thing?

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#18  Edited By ImpurestCheese
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Name: Jonah “The Revealer” Mercury, 34, Autistic, 20 years for theft, B&E, assault with a deadly weapon, Size: 6’ 6”, 270 lbs

Family: Mother, Elyse, deceased - Father, Reuben, deceased – Sister, Shauna, 37, serving a minimum of 8 years in Bedford for assault

History: The Mercury’s had a successful locksmith company in the Flatiron District in the early 80’s. When Jonah was born, the doctor’s bills along with the rising rent prices forced Mr. Mercury to close his shop in 1984. Jonah was 5. They moved to Hell’s Kitchen where Reuben took up an “apprenticeship” with a local locksmith, Martin Erikkson, alleged second cousin to the criminal nicknamed “The Locksmith” from San Francisco. In 1987, Erikkson’s shop burned down. Reuben claimed it was the doing of Hammerhead’s goons, when in reality it was his son, whom he had left in the backroom unattended and who had accidentally started the fire. Reuben found the boy curled up in a ball in the corner of the room barely breathing. He escaped the fire with second degree burns over 20% of his body, but he was alive and had saved his son. He regretted it for the rest of his life.

Reuben found odd jobs and did some illegal smithing to pay the bills, but succumbed to alcoholism and committed suicide in 1993. Needing to keep the family afloat, Elyse began working as janitor at the hospital where she also worked in the gift shop. Unsupervised, Shauna took to prostitution and drugs, and Jonah was left unattended for most of his preteen years. His Autism continued to go untreated and he became a whipping boy for his classmates, even though he was 2-3 heads taller than them all and outweighed them by 50 lbs. In one bullying encounter, Jonah knocked another boy to the ground and stomped his face on the curb, shattering his cheek and jaw bones. Elyse pulled him out of school and left him home alone.

He began to tinker with the complex locks that he found in his father’s stuff in his closet like he had watched Reuben do as a kid. It became an obsession to feel the tumblers give way every time he would pick the lock. When he had mastered all of the locks in the trunk, he began to wander outside of his family’s apartment. The cops picked him up trying to break into the super’s office-apartment. When they confronted him, Jonah panicked and broke an officer’s nose. They beat him and arrested him. When Elyse tried to pick him up, they told her that the state was taking Jonah since she had failed to properly have his Autism treated and failed to keep him in school. Jonah spent the rest of his childhood as a ward of the state.

When he was an adult, he moved to a halfway house. A petty thief named Richie who had just finished a 3-year stint at Rikers after being busted by Daredevil saw Jonah messing with the other residents’ trunks, picking the locks, but not taking anything out. He saw that Jonah had a knack for it and saw an opportunity to exploit his skill. Using his contacts in the Kingpin’s sub-organizations, Richie lined up a gig to hit some houses in Midtown. He tried to tell Jonah about it and realized something was wrong with him because he wouldn’t talk or make eye contact. He just shied away when Richie got near. He gained Jonah’s trust by bringing in different locks and letting Jonah pick them. He lined up the Midtown heist and they broke in and stole $100,000 in cash and jewelry from 10 homes. One house had an alarm system, but Jonah was able to decipher the code after staring at it for a few seconds.

He gained notoriety and picked up the moniker The Revealer due to his aversion to taking the goods he broke in for. Richie was the mastermind and thief, Jonah was the lock-man. On his last B&E, Richie was shot and killed by the resident. The man shot Jonah, but his mental condition due to seeing his only friend die combined with his mass was too much for one bullet. Jonah wrestled the gun from the man and hit him across the temple, leaving him for dead. The man was in a coma for a year. The police found Jonah curled up in the corner of the room where they found Richie’s body, he was sobbing and they were able to arrest him without much resistance.

Suicide Mission: The Revealer will play a key role in mission, as the point man to break into the SWORD headquarters. There is a shape shifter who will act as The Revealer’s friend Richie to coerce him into picking the locks. If he gets unruly, the other team members will use a shock implant to take him down. He will break into each section until they reach their mark. Once there, they will kill the mark in her cell. When her life sensors go offline, the entire SWORD will be looking for our team with kill orders. Make it out alive and they will have their freedom.

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TommytheHitman

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Do the character's have to be from Comic books? I have an idea in mind that I'm sure fans of the 80s will love.

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#21  Edited By ImpurestCheese

@tommythehitman: Nope, as long as I get a fan created suicide squad type guy/girl/thing I'm fine

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#23  Edited By ImpurestCheese
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#24  Edited By Renzoa

OK help to understand do we have to make own suicide squad or just a member for the suicide squad.

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4donkeyjohnson

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not this time

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TommytheHitman

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@renzoa: Just a new member for a team of pre existing characters.

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@renzoa said:

OK help to understand do we have to make own suicide squad or just a member for the suicide squad.

You can write one member or a whole squad. Your original character can be for an all-original team of your own, or part of an existing group in comics. Your character for the contest has to be all original- your own creation.

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#28  Edited By batkevin74

NSA HQ, Fort Meade Maryland

“Project Wraith?” Marion Singh looked at the business card apprehensively when it suddenly burst into flames. “Jesus!”

“We don’t exist,” said the man in the black suit. “You ready to serve your country?”

Marion checked her fingers for damage “I didn’t catch your name…?”

“And you won’t Mrs Singh. Now please, answer my question.”

Marion looked at the man who looked almost like a caricature; flat-top hair cut, aviator sunglasses, black suit, white crisp shirt, black tie, shiny shoes, briefcase. “What about my job here at the NSA?”

“That sounds like a yes,” his face almost broke into a smile as he handed over the briefcase. “Check over the contents and call the number inside within the hour regardless.”

“Or it’ll explode?” she joked.

“No,” he stated as an automated cuff snaked out of the case and clamped onto her wrist. “It’ll release sarin gas killing you and anyone within thirty feet of which will label you as a terrorist which will make life hard for your widowed husband.”

Marion’s jaw dropped as the man walked off. “Hey!”

The man paused but didn’t turn.

“What’s the combination?”

“Clock is ticking Mrs Singh,” he called as he left the room.

**

Area-56, Wyoming/Montana border

Marion Singh walked through the rows and rows of supercomputer processors studying the dossier in her hand. It’d been a whirlwind six months. She’d gone from data analyst for the NSA to now working for Project Wraith, which didn’t exist and she technically didn’t work for. Her husband believed her to be on a fly-in fly-out rotation in Alaska instead of saving the country on a seemingly daily basis. Today was no different.

She nodded at the man waiting beside a large steel door. “Snuggles.”

“Please don’t call me that Mrs Singh.”

Marion shrugged. “You won’t or can’t tell me your name, so until you do Snuggles, that is your name. Or do you prefer Fluffy?”

He shook his head and opened the door. Marion stepped inside to be greeted with a semicircle of seven people dressed in orange. They stood strapped to boards; bound, gagged, cuffed and shackled, the only thing they could really move freely was their eyes.

“My name is Marion Singh,” she took a seat on the only chair. “You were all brought here because we need people of your disgusting talents to work for us here at Project Wraith, which doesn’t exist and this chat isn’t actually happening.”

She looked up at the glaring eyes. “You are all horrible, horrible things. Just being in this room, this close to you, makes me want a shower. Out of the seven of you, I only need five which isn’t good for at least two of you.”

Marion dropped the dossier on the floor. “I’m about to have your shackles released for the final stage of your interview. Up in the rafters is a sniper with a 70 cal sniper rifle.” She removed a large metal cyclinder, almost the size of a can of soda, from her pocket. “It fires these which are designed for penetrating tanks. So if you move towards me or the guards, you will be turned into paste from up on high.”

Fourteen men in full riot gear quick marched into the room and in pairs unshackled the prisoners with ridiculous efficiency before moving in behind Marion.

“Now what?” growled Zion Bradley, the prisoner who’d burnt down an apartment block to kill his cheating girlfriend who actually wasn’t cheating nor was it her apartment block.

“I said I only need five of you,” Marion said as she nodded as a guard tossed two tonfas into their midst. The metal batons bounced dramatically on the floor. “Whenever you’re ready?”

**

“I must say it’s a shame you made the cut,” said Marion as she took a seat. The man with the black eye gave a wry smile before returning his gaze to the concrete floor.

“Charles Malcolm Shipman. Burglary, attempted burglary, concealing stolen property and possession of a stolen vehicle.” Marion read off his file. “And nine counts of sexual assault on minors.”

“So you say,” Shipman muttered.

“Oh I don’t just say, I know. I’ve read your file, seen the tapes, examined the evidence. You’re a monster. And I need expendable monsters like you.” Marion stood up. “Because instead of wasting resources in prison you can do something productive. And if that fails you’ll die so it’s a win win for us.”

**

“Who are you?” asked the prisoner as two guards sat him in the chair opposite Marion.

“You don’t listen too well do you Daryl,” said Marion. “My name is Marion.”

“Can I go home now?”

“No Daryl, you’re not going home for a very long time. Do you know why you’re here?”

Daryl swung his legs. “I hurt some people.”

Marion flipped open her file “You killed your mother. Your father. Your carer. Three dogs.”

“I said I was sorry.”

**

“So I work for you and I get what?” asked Zion Bradley.

“Nothing.”

“What do I get if I say no?”

“Have you ever heard of Gldani Prison in Georgia?”

“You think some prison in the heart of this racist union of states is supposed to scare me woman?” He raised up angrily, eyes full of hate.

“No, Georgia the country. You will be sent to the fourth worst prison on the planet where they don’t speak English and the inmates set themselves on fire to escape the brutality. We send you there.”

Zion went silent.

**

“Do you think they can do it?”

Marion looked at the man she called Snuggles and shrugged. “We have a child molester, a retard with anger issues, a very angry black supremacist, a serial killer with a broken arm and to my surprise Oliver Marshall.”

“Who?”

“He stole over two billion dollars in stolen money,” Marion said almost proudly. “He ran a Ponzi on the Mob, the Triads and several other criminal organisations.”

“A Robin Hood?”

“Not at all Snuggles,” Marion smiled. “It was pure greed on his part. I’m impressed the man could fight.”

“Back to my original question Mrs Singh, can they do it?”

“Work as a team and assassinate the Russian ambassador in France and escape without starting a world war?,” Marion paused as she pondered her own question. “We’ll soon see. Let’s get this suicide squad in the air in an hour.”

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how do you join

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@scrumrh: Just write an entry and post it up here. All are welcome

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