Just so you guys know, the Mime's dialogue is supposed to be similar to that of the classic comic characters from the 60s (in this case, Daredevil and Spider-Man). The rest of the dialogue is all on me. So do with that what you will. :)
"You cravenouz cretinz won't stand a chance against ze power of... ze Mime!"
In the dark alleyways of New York City, an even darker figure lurked. A flurry of kicks and punches flew at rapid speed, striking a group of ill minded individuals multiple times. After a fierce, yet short battle (that barely even qualified as a 'battle') several bodies collapsed to the ground, in the middle of the filthy, rat infested alleyway, surrounded by the unconscious criminals was a man dressed in a white shirt with black stripes, chalk white facepaint covered his facial features... and a black cap generally seen in countries like France sat atop his head.
"Are you alright, madame?" The masked vigilante known only as the Mime asked, the faint tinges of a French accent in his voice as he held out a gloved hand towards the woman the group had presumably been in the process of mugging.
"Oh my god!" She yelled as the Mime gently pulled her to her feet. "Thank you SO much! I... I don't know how I c-"
The Mime coughed politely. "No rewards necessary madame." He said as the sounds of a police siren filled the cold, night air. He pulled a black police baton from his belt, and upon pressing a small button on the side, caused the top half to spring up into the air and grapple into the side of a nearby rooftop. "People like me are only here to help."He said before zipping up into the night sky, leaving behind a polite note and vanishing into the darkness with a bright, white smile on his face.
The note read:
Courtesy of... the Mime.
With the white of his costume, the Mime stuck out in the black of night like a sore thumb... but there was a pretty good reason for that.
The Mime wanted criminals to see him coming.
"That will be Fifty Shillings!"
Doctor Myrick Mute mystically erased the giant Dragon spirit he had summoned to aid him in combat and held out his hand towards the person he had spent the last 30 seconds of his life saving. The quivering figure staring at him didn't seem to be the perfect picture of health, he was rather pale in fact... and this was, of course, London. It would be a shame if the World's foremost expert in Magic happened to contract some kind of ghastly disease from what was probably a junkie.
"Sh... shillings?!" The young man stammered. Sweat dripping down his forehead as he looked at the unconscious thugs lying strewn across the floor of the car park behind the Doctor.
"Or whatever it is you call currency." Myrick sighed, adjusting his purple top hat as the sky above opened up, unleashing a downpour of rain. "I saved your life, peasant. And I require payment for my services."
Usually, the great and powerful Doctor Mute preferred to stay away from this type of affair. Fighting off purse snatchers and opium addicts was better left to lesser people, such as the Panopticans and Gunship. This sort of service was beneath beings such as the Magician Maximus.
This had only been done out of complete and utter necessity.
"Is there a plague of deafness going around?!" Myrick snapped. "Have I removed the entire country's ability to speak once more?! I particularly hope not!" He yelled. "Because I'm REALLY not in the mood for it!"
So apparently Green demons aren't particularly adept at teleporting people to their intended destination, but... to be fair, teleporting is one of the more difficult skills to learn in the pantheon of mystical abilities. Mere moments after Myrick had concluded his rather disastrous interview with them, he'd been transported across the Multiverse back to his home city of London. Lovely, gloomy, filled with chavs, London. In truth the demons had got the job half right. London was rather close to his home. However Doctor Mute had been dropped off directly outside the London Eye... which was easily five miles away from home, to make matters even worse, Myrick didn't have any money for public transport... and in general taking transport in London usually ended up with the good Doctor cursing the idiots that the British Government had branded as capable of sitting behind a steering wheel.
Now usually none of this 'teleportation misdirection' would have been a problem, the mighty Doctor Mute would have just flown back to his headquarters. However due to Myrick's title of Magician Maximus being stripped from him, flying was somewhat out of his skill range.
"Damn it..." Myrick sighed, mentally reminding himself to start carrying a wallet around. He looked at the still stunned victim. "Could I borrow your cordless phone?" He asked.
Unsurpisingly, Doctor Mute wasn't very humble.
Many people would have naturally assumed that, considering his job title
is was Magician Maximus, however, for whatever reason,it had taken the Doctor's housekeeper and assistant, Belladonna Hellfire a full 15 minutes before she'd realized the full extent of the Doctor's narcissism.
"I can't believe the guy has his own business card printed on the wall." Steven the Ogre muttered as he carried the Doctor's settee through the mansion's entrance.
Maybe it had been the marble statues of the Doctor carved into the staircases, maybe it was the large, self portraits hanging over the mantelpiece... but either way Belladonna had quickly come to realize that Doctor Myrick Mute was completely and utterly in love with himself.
"This... is what I have to put up with." Bella mumbled while brushing her long, blonde hair out of her eyes. Her fingers were lodged firmly in her ear drums as the sounds of bangings and crashes echoed throughout the house. From her vantage point at the top of the mansion's staircase she could see the house evicters removing furniture from all around the building, there were many different races managing the crew, from the largem bulky Ogres, to the small and nimble Jackals who were busy arguing in the Kitchen about the paperwork required to handle a Mansion capable of spawning an infinite amount of rooms. She was rather pale, similar in skin tone with someone suffering from the Black Death. She tended to dress in black, not because she liked it... but because it was the only colour that really seemed to suit her. Everything else just seemed odd. She watched in silence as one of the Ogres walked out of the house, carrying the mansion's Chef under arm. "I'm sorry sir." She said into the black, cord phone stuck to the wall next to her. "They're taking the man servents too..."
"NO!!" A loud, almost girlish shriek shot down the device, causing Bella to jump back in shock. "DAMN IT HELLFIRE!" Doctor Mute snapped from wherever the hell he was. "Whatever you do... keep my doctorate safe!" He ordered. "I'm on my way!"
Bella sighed before putting the phone back on the wall. "...yes sir."
Little did the Doctor know... his doctorate had already been sacrificed to the Moving Crew.
The Mime's laughter echoed across the dark rooftops as he leaped and bounded over the streets far below. The downpour of rain from the sky pelted off his well tuned physique as he weaved beneath washing lines carrying filthy clothing. His laughter was quickly joined, as a man dressed completely in silver body armour zipped after him while riding atop a metal broomstick, bright green flame shooting from the boomstick's mechanical engine. The man was wearing a helmet shaped like some creature torn out of a Fantasy Novel... and he was throwing explosive molotovs after his athletic adversary.
"IT'S TIME TO DIE, MIME!" The villain cackled while hovering over the alleyway.
"Not today, Silver Jackal!" The Mime retorted, stopping on the edge of the rooftop and gripping his trademark batom in preparation for battle. "How many times do I have to tell you?" He asked. "I'm just too stubborn to die!"
The Jackal unleashed a deafining laugh from the very bowels of his soul before bringing his arm back to lob forward another molotov. Mime brought his baton up towards his chest and prepared to chuck it at his target with as much strength as he could muster.
Before either of the oddly dressed individuals could make their move, a bright green light shot up from the streets below, striking the Silver Jackal by the side and sending him tumbling to the street below, his explosive molotov close behind. Quickly the heroic Mime dashed to the edge of the roof, only to be greeted by a violent explosion from below.
"Jackal?!" Mime yelled before jumping down into the scorched alleyway. A quick glance at the surrounding area showed no sign of a body. "Strange." The hero muttered. "Could he have-" He shook his head quickly. "No. That's n-"
The Mime stopped speaking upon hearing a strange pulsing noise coming from behind. Quickly he turned to see a portal, similar in colour to the flash of light, mere seconds ago, opening up before him.
"Quoi dans le monde?" The French hero muttered as several dark shapes emerged, each walking on their hind legs. He pulled his baton out, snapping it to the right, causing it to extend into something similar to that of a metallic staff.
The creatures were similar in size to a Rotweiller. Their bodies were composed of a black energy which caused steam to generate from their 'flesh'... and as they slowly walked forward, the Mime spotted dozens of small, human like eyes dotted around their waists.
"Hellhounds..." He deduced.
"KILL HIM!"One of the beasts screeched. "TEAR HIM IN TWO!!!!"
The Mime took a step back as the beasts took a step forward. He pointed his weapon towards the ground and simply extended his hand. Bringing his fingers down into his palm several times.
"You can try."
The Hellhounds all charged forwards, unsheating claws crafted with bright orange flames.