ThisIsGonnaHurt

Long live the Empire

42858 840 417 854
Forum Posts Wiki Points Following Followers

Constantly Changing... It's a Pain

1,400 hits. Respectable, but hardly anything to set him apart from the other wannabe world-changers out there with mutant powers. Video-sharing sites were cracking down on all the channels responsible for meeting the requirements for domestic uncertainties. Land of the Free, what a joke.

He tried the most popular ones earlier that week, and got banned each and every time. They hid behind a copyright claim they would never answer his rebuttal to. He scratched his neck impatiently. Forums and online blogs were impossible to access with this kind of stuff too. Ever since the first ones went viral, intelligence collection agencies were firing left and right trying to shut it all behind locked doors. Keep the family safe. Keep the integrity of the country intact. His bloodshot eyes scanned constantly for new avenues he could travel through. He had been doing this for far too long.

Then he remembered.

There were always... deeper parts of the Internet. Parts of the spider's web where pigs can't go.

He opened several dozen proxy servers, and dug as far as he could until he struck gold.

Without saying a word, he went into a chatroom and posted an invitation for jobs to come his way, the only payment being that the person looking to hire would spread his video all over the place. Hours passed, mostly negotiations, and he finally came to an agreement with someone he thought he could trust with this trading of personal qualities.

"I'll kill anyone. I don't care who. Don't be like the 'kill yourself and film it' perverts. Anyone in the world you want gone, and all I want is for you to post this video as much as you can everywhere you can think of. Deal?"

Of course, anyone with an inkling of animosity in this world would never turn down such a generous offer.

"For the love of God - NOO!"

Carelessly, like idly swatting a fly, the natural action of removing the bonding agents between the man's skin and flesh almost seemed a reflex at this point. He had already accomplished it so many times already. Carl Wagner, a wealthy philanthropist, somehow caught the attention of the wrong person. Now his skull yawned so openly as to reveal to his killer the contents inside, a sickening display of quivering frontal lobe. Blood did not stain carpet, as it all dissolved into base elements upon contact with the burn. Like fire, without smoke.

Without a second glance, the young man responsible opened a few video browsers on his phone. Within the span of a few weeks the video he asked of the anonymous bounty poster had been one of the most persistent mysteries on social media. When it appeared, it would garner almost a million hits before being taken down again. Posters from different IP addresses from around the world were uploading it constantly, changing audio and video to keep up with the falsified copyright claims against it.

Even reaction videos and vloggers trying to unravel the scheme behind it were taken down.

But the message was clear.

No Caption Provided

"My name is Fourteen. Something bad is going to happen somewhere. People will die. People have already died. It's not a surprise without a bang, though. You're going to be waiting, and watching for something to happen. But you're wrong. Maybe it's already happened. Who knows? Do you think I just want to be famous? That's not how a surprise works. You do something that no one else has done. You make it shock value. You make a lasting impression. There have been wars, sociopathic genocides, tyrannical uprisings, invasions of national and foreign affairs. It's all predictable at this point. I'll try something different. From now on, I'll kill heroes. Just heroes. Anyone wanting to be a hero. They have to learn that this world isn't for them. It belongs to something more powerful than Thee Champion, something they can't just erase like student loan debt. It's definitely not me, though. At this point it's personal satisfaction to see the hope in a person's eyes dwindle into nothing. I might be constantly changing... but that never gets old."

59 Comments

59 Comments

Avatar image for last_guardian
Last_Guardian

32162

Forum Posts

42177

Wiki Points

0

Followers

Reviews: 5

User Lists: 3

Edited By Last_Guardian

Damnit, man, I'm jealous. Anytime I read your writing, I can't help getting sucked into your characters and wanting to know/read more about them. Hope to see you stick with this one for a bit.

Avatar image for the_shogun
The_Shogun

4803

Forum Posts

0

Wiki Points

0

Followers

Reviews: 0

User Lists: 0

I don't really go for the anime stuff.. but I have to admit, you pulled me into the story and I ended up really enjoying it.

Avatar image for aristotle
Aristotle

890

Forum Posts

0

Wiki Points

0

Followers

Reviews: 0

User Lists: 0

Daaamn Warsy, back at it again with the epic proses!

You remind me I need to check Hero Academia for update again.

Avatar image for doctor_wheatley
Doctor_Wheatley

3225

Forum Posts

0

Wiki Points

0

Followers

Reviews: 0

User Lists: 0

Ooo the deep web and red rooms :d Such a wonderful place.

Avatar image for thisisgonnahurt
ThisIsGonnaHurt

42858

Forum Posts

840

Wiki Points

0

Followers

Reviews: 0

User Lists: 4

Wow, it must be good to get LL to put aside her distaste for anime.

Avatar image for black_jackal
Black_Jackal

80

Forum Posts

0

Wiki Points

0

Followers

Reviews: 0

User Lists: 0

Edited By Black_Jackal

:) good job warsy

immature math seal of approval

Avatar image for thisisgonnahurt
ThisIsGonnaHurt

42858

Forum Posts

840

Wiki Points

0

Followers

Reviews: 0

User Lists: 4

Edited By ThisIsGonnaHurt

Calm. Flat.

Her tone danced around the audial airwaves, taunting his eardrums with information as it came. Nothing of Carl Wagner's death, must have been covered up. Media has been ignoring a ton of murderers running around with powers. Maybe to lessen the sting of societal backlash upon those minorities or to avoid stirring up an unnecessary fire again.

After all, what happened to Iceland was still fresh on everyone's timid minds.

They fell in line like ants, trying to avoid the truth but when it came to them they attacked with a vengeance. Such was the decay of a group of individuals, introduce anarchy and disbelief into a single party and watch the division grow wider and more impassable with time. Fourteen continued to stare at the television in his rundown apartment on the edge of an unspecified town. He sipped lukewarm coffee out of an old mug, the hand clasping his face instinctively moving out of the way. Almost to the point of studying every pore on the newscaster's face, he waited.

He waited, and watched, much like his viral video had told countless millions to do the same. Eventually it would happen.

"...Meanwhile, rescue teams are still in the midst of fighting fires in downtown..."

Amy Brandt, news reporter, looked away from the camera for a split second. Her director called her to stop the current story as he said something into her earpiece. She didn't let her professional demeanor stagger for a split second, but in her mind she knew something had gone horribly wrong.

"Breaking news, the First National Bank has been placed under siege by a masked vigilante, one whom many identify as the Black Bat (@hound_of_war) and with him is an unknown woman with red hair (@maverick_6), allegedly a hostage. It is not recognized at this time why this is happening, but we have Trish Lambert on the scene - Trish?"

Finally, someone besides the statuesque brunette. Fourteen took a small sip of his coffee and leaned into his ragged sofa, knees curled into his chest.

She blabbed about how the two were perched on top of the bank itself, and that the Black Bat was roaring orders down to the police through a megaphone. If his demands were not met, he would kill the woman. One of the hands around Fourteen's neck tightened its monstrous grip.

"Calm down, Little Brother. You're doing just fine,"

He finished his beverage and held his empty mug over his head.

"Now make them do this,"

Without hesitation, he dropped it onto the unfurnished floor - and sent pieces everywhere.

"Oh my God, they just jumped!"

Fourteen felt his Little Brother relax the grip on his throat, and he exhaled calmly. Flatly.

"Good job."

"I've seen the Black Bat and I can tell you, this isn't him. It's just some poor schmuck in a costume and a random lady. I don't know what they were thinking," Officer Bishop commented with a concerned scratching at his head.

"I can tell you one thing though, Officer," the detective Freeman replied. "These people haven't been alive for long,"

"Yeah I can tell you that already sir," Bishop hammered his annoyance home. Was he being talked down to? Here? Right now? After a scene like this?

"No, what I mean is that necrosis set in long before they jumped. These weren't human beings on top of the bank,"

Officer Bishop felt his blood freeze as Freeman looked back up at him.

"They were corpses."

Avatar image for hound_of_war
Hound_of_War

3944

Forum Posts

0

Wiki Points

0

Followers

Reviews: 0

User Lists: 0

No Caption Provided

Avatar image for thisisgonnahurt
ThisIsGonnaHurt

42858

Forum Posts

840

Wiki Points

0

Followers

Reviews: 0

User Lists: 4

Edited By ThisIsGonnaHurt
Avatar image for hound_of_war
Hound_of_War

3944

Forum Posts

0

Wiki Points

0

Followers

Reviews: 0

User Lists: 0

Avatar image for thisisgonnahurt
ThisIsGonnaHurt

42858

Forum Posts

840

Wiki Points

0

Followers

Reviews: 0

User Lists: 4

Edited By ThisIsGonnaHurt

@hound_of_war:

Do you like hurting other people?

Not as much as me.

No Caption Provided

Avatar image for mr_winters
Mr_Winters

402

Forum Posts

0

Wiki Points

0

Followers

Reviews: 0

User Lists: 0

Avatar image for _drake
_Drake

14900

Forum Posts

0

Wiki Points

0

Followers

Reviews: 0

User Lists: 0

Oooooooooooo, sweet.

I hate the look, tho -___- He's so weird =P

Avatar image for thisisgonnahurt
ThisIsGonnaHurt

42858

Forum Posts

840

Wiki Points

0

Followers

Reviews: 0

User Lists: 4

Avatar image for thisisgonnahurt
ThisIsGonnaHurt

42858

Forum Posts

840

Wiki Points

0

Followers

Reviews: 0

User Lists: 4

Next part either tomorrow or Tuesday.

Avatar image for thisisgonnahurt
ThisIsGonnaHurt

42858

Forum Posts

840

Wiki Points

0

Followers

Reviews: 0

User Lists: 4

Edited By ThisIsGonnaHurt

"It's a hoax, it has to be! No way the Bat would do something like that,"

Click.

"What's up everybody, it's your boy Cri - "

Click.

"Heya bros - "

Click.

"Hello everybody my name is - "

Click.

Everything on the front page just dragged on and on about pointless things. Here and there he found nuggets of interest, hidden archives of notes and video evidence of what had happened within just a few days prior. Someone dressed as the Black Bat had smuggled a hostage to the top of the First National Bank and threatened to kill her before jumping off with his prisoner in tow. Both were claimed dead on impact, but something didn't sit right with Fourteen. He watched the video coverage over and over again. He memorized their every word, inflection of speech, and imperfections in the sounds and behaviors of their voices. Yet for the life of him he could not decipher what he wanted to hear. It was inconceivable that they would leave out such an important detail, but he supposed it made perfect sense in today's market of information-brokering and the selling of false idols to sheep without a distinct behavior of their own.

He was speaking of course, of the fact that upon arrival to the crime scene, even the most amateur investigator imaginable would linger upon the detail of the two having decomposed nearly a week before this even occurred. Analysts would be losing their caps right now.

He just didn't see the point in hiding it, however. It was such an important piece to his grand scheme and winding puzzleworks. Perhaps, he inquired of himself, those involved with the case wanted the result to be theirs and theirs alone to bring to light. Then he thought more highly of the various under-wizards and sorcerers of scientific renown. They were collecting evidence, stockpiling it, so that if something like this happened again it would be much easier to track down a source - and, just maybe, a motive.

Fourteen leaned back in his chair, the idle noise of a Let's Play related to some old "classic" video game funneling into one ear and passing drearily out the other side. His brain refused to lock onto any specific words or numbers and it all devolved into white noise; gibberish.

"It's not a surprise anymore. They're looking for something, anything. Mutants with unheard-of powers, New Gods that might have links to necromantic roots, humans practicing dark magic. This isn't entertaining. It's boring, waiting for my turn. You're not going to find anything,"

He reached forward and placed his bare hand on the computer monitor, looking as if glaring out of a window into the electrodynamic depths of the machine.

"I have... an idea."

"Three weeks ago there were videos that came out regarding a certain hero-hunter. These videos were taken down consistently, but not before being uploaded again faster than the copyright strikes could ban the users responsible. Ignoring these attempts, the videos garnered hundreds of thousands of views - sometimes even millions - before being taken down, every single time. If you've watched those videos, then you'll recognize me one way or another. I am Fourteen,"

He stood up in the middle of a popular talk show, walking down the aisle towards center stage. As if projected by ghostly fingers, every camera followed him, changing angles so that he would always be staring at the audience waiting and watching at home. Without hesitation, he sat in the middle of where the hosts were. Everything remained quiet, and eerily still.

"I'm not trying to get famous. If I wanted to do that I would have invaded Iceland or ran for president. That's not how surprises work. That's not how mistakes get fixed,"

He started to scratch his neck, just above Little Brother's fingers.

"The Black Bat fiasco was my idea. If anyone has managed to download the isolated files related to the scattered police reports, you'll notice the fatalities were listed in some of them as 'zero', even though some media clearly portrayed it as a deadly accident. It's one of my powers, and it belongs to my Little Brother. Show them, don't be shy. They want to see,"

The hand on the left side of his throat squeezed a bit tighter, and the strings began to rustle from between time-scapes. All at the same time, each of the live audience members became active and clapped hysterically, in disturbing and unparalleled synch. The hosts of the talk show also began gibbering like idiots, wheezing with a faux pas laugh track in the background playing on loop. The cameras all zipped around wildly, catching nightmarish glimpses of twisted grins and bloodshot eyes. These were people who were trapped in a game they could not leave, and some even wept while they guffawed out of control.

One collapsed up front and stopped moving.

The focus became Fourteen after a moment of this, and he remained calm. Completely unerringly calm, his voice a flat and unmistakable chime of someone who had lost connection to all humanity. He no longer saw any species and called it his own. He existed outside the spectrum of color and progress, society moved on without him. So he moved on without society, and saw it devouring itself.

"This is your life. Hiding from the truth, even when it's staring you in the face. You cover it up with Entertainment Weekly and TV Guides, just some garbage you get in the mail every day. But you know it's there. You know I'm there,"

At first, the laughter became a high-pitched riot of noise, unbearable to the human ears and yet everything Fourteen said came out clear as crystal. Soon, however, it became eerily quiet again. Thuds from behind the camera, and soon the room fell deathly silent.

"I'll keep doing this. It's not hard to do. It'll keep getting bigger and bigger. More deaths, more innocent lives. That's what keeps you up at night, isn't it? Not some money you owe a university. Not knowing World War III might explode any day now. Not waiting for the next mutant invasion. It's the small stuff, right? Knowing you can't be there for every home invasion, or mass murder on the planet. Knowing that children are screaming right now watching this program. Knowing it'll be the hottest topic on the news and on forum boards for months to come. 'Another empowered killer on the loose! When will the masses learn to outlaw stuff like this?' I know something else that keeps you up at night. Guardian (@last_guardian). Feral Nova (@feral_nova). Mr. President (@hound_of_war),"

"Your laws... don't apply to me. I figured it out a long time ago. Guys like Thee Champion (@thee_champion)? They only do what they do because... well for no other reason than they feel like it. At any given moment someone with the power to blow up cities like popcorn is going to come along and decimate your nation. Break borders. Turn entire countries into ovens. And for no other reason than because they felt like it. What do humans do to piss off some intergalactic tyrant roaming the stars? Nothing. We sit here and we die here. They come to us and pick at us for sport. Yet here we are, for no other reason than because we're ants. We're angry little fire ants and we bit the bastards enough times to chase them off. But who's to say they're not still out there, getting the diazinon ready? What are these heroes teaching us? That we should rely on them? Then why isn't anyone here? I just killed seventy or more people. All I hear are sirens outside and doors getting rammed down one by one. Where's the trumpeting call of a New God to save the day? Where's Maverick (@maverick_6)? They're sitting on piles of your tax dollars, waiting for the next apocalypse so they can collect a paycheck. No one's out there to really save you. Even the indomitable symbol of peace..."

No Caption Provided

As soon as the doors to the studio were busted down, the feed shorted out.

Avatar image for feral_nova
Feral Nova

61589

Forum Posts

3257

Wiki Points

0

Followers

Reviews: 0

User Lists: 6

Feral Nova  Moderator

Huh?

Avatar image for thisisgonnahurt
ThisIsGonnaHurt

42858

Forum Posts

840

Wiki Points

0

Followers

Reviews: 0

User Lists: 4

@feral_nova:

Just felt like tagging you along with Obi.

Avatar image for hound_of_war
Hound_of_War

3944

Forum Posts

0

Wiki Points

0

Followers

Reviews: 0

User Lists: 0

Edited By Hound_of_War

You want me? You got me.

Avatar image for hound_of_war
Hound_of_War

3944

Forum Posts

0

Wiki Points

0

Followers

Reviews: 0

User Lists: 0

Sends Damien*

Avatar image for last_guardian
Last_Guardian

32162

Forum Posts

42177

Wiki Points

0

Followers

Reviews: 5

User Lists: 3

Edited By Last_Guardian

@thisisgonnahurt: Amazing writing in terms of immersion. Dude feels like a real, modern day supervillain. Your last two paragraphs actually legitimately frustrate me angry and they'd do the same for Jacob, no doubt. This is great, Wars.

Avatar image for thisisgonnahurt
ThisIsGonnaHurt

42858

Forum Posts

840

Wiki Points

0

Followers

Reviews: 0

User Lists: 4

@last_guardian:

I don't know if wall posts work anymore, but feel free to respond IC if you want.

Avatar image for thisisgonnahurt
ThisIsGonnaHurt

42858

Forum Posts

840

Wiki Points

0

Followers

Reviews: 0

User Lists: 4

Next part is definitely tonight. Might even have two ready.

Avatar image for thisisgonnahurt
ThisIsGonnaHurt

42858

Forum Posts

840

Wiki Points

0

Followers

Reviews: 0

User Lists: 4

"Imma do progress"

"No you're going to sleep instead"

"But"

"Nope"

Avatar image for aristotle
Aristotle

890

Forum Posts

0

Wiki Points

0

Followers

Reviews: 0

User Lists: 0

Edited By Aristotle

@thisisgonnahurt:

The superlative mechanics of Aristotle's genengineered physiology propelled the alien discus with olympian form shortly after the door into the studio opened. It flew into the side but it's trajectory curved back towards the podium yet targeting not the villain but the heavy suspended lightning array above him. Thrown by a man who had the physical strength reaching into tenths of tons, all wiring and conections were severed by the shield's edge and fell towards the caricature of a man responsible for the mayhem, yearning to smash his head wide open.

The shield continued flying seemingly without a loss of momentum back into the crimson glove of Aristotle, who stood tall in the far reaches of the room in the seating area with one leg planted in an elevated position t the rim of a seat. “You're going down, buster.”, Aristotle exclaimed sternly before suddenly stomping through the seat upon which his leg rested and launched himself towards the stage.

No Caption Provided

Once the 350 lbs of augmented muscle landed in reach of his target he would swiftly uncoil his shield-bearing hand and bash his opponent with superhuman force. The tremendous blunt trauma seeking not only to throw Fourteen into the wall behind him but to outright turn his brains into mush bouncing off the walls of his cranium.

Avatar image for thisisgonnahurt
ThisIsGonnaHurt

42858

Forum Posts

840

Wiki Points

0

Followers

Reviews: 0

User Lists: 4

@aristotle:

As the studio door clattered to the ground, Fourteen observed the hero as he moved into what could only be described as a warzone now. He had all the right attributes to manage this situation, and started out strong. Aiming for something that could easily distract his enemy while charging in for the melee engagement? Classic. Fourteen remembered back in his comic books, ones where Allegiance would do the same thing and try to close the distance with reverberations of his shield, bouncing it back and forth between walls and such to keep his enemies off-balance. This guy seemed to be adopting it to the letter.

The lighting fixture snapped without resistance, each wire breaking crisply under the sheer weight of the thing as it tumbled down on top of the mysterious young man responsible for this outbreak. It crashed down on top of him, there was no mistaking that. But as the electrical fire started to spread across well-maintained carpet and varnished flooring, something didn't sit right in the hearts and minds of the police officers forming a perimeter around the center stage. They knew better than to move in now. This wasn't their first metahuman debacle, though the scale of such an event disturbed some to irrational anger in the backs of their minds. Anything could provoke them.

And so Fourteen emerged from the explosive climax of the chandelier's tumultuous crescendo, completely unharmed. The hand on his left pectoral relaxed its grip on his body as he brought himself to a standing position, tilting his head tauntingly as the All-American struck. Without any feasible way of avoiding such a confrontation in his current state, Fourteen took the shot to his chin from the indomitable might of the Star-Spangled Super Soldier's Successor. Breaking against his jawline came an insurmountable ringing sensation, pain of a previously unfelt kind, as he was sent barrelling into the back corner of the stage. His head went through the plywood and various details, his momentum not stopping until he hit plaster on the other side of the backstage management area.

Everything became deathly quiet, even the raging inferno as emergency squad members went to extinguish the flames. Others were responsible for checking the live audience for survivors. Luckily some of them only fainted due to oxygen deprivation, but others curled into painful fetal positions as their lungs had given out completely. Standing asphyxiation was an ugly death. It seemed that the Patriotic Paragon had done it in one fell swoop, and congratulatory gestures were about to be shown his way if not for a sudden clanking noise in the back rooms. Something so eerily distant and yet so profound, as if he wanted to be found out.

Fourteen emerged from the shattered walls, coming out of the same hole he had smashed through mere moments before. From behind the hand on his face, anyone with a sense of dread could see his smile.

"Did I pinch a nerve?"

Without flinching, Fourteen stood completely still as the hand on his upper left arm tightened its frightening grip. The corpses within the immediate stage area started to glow with an incandescent and burning hot energy. They had become bombs.

Avatar image for aristotle
Aristotle

890

Forum Posts

0

Wiki Points

0

Followers

Reviews: 0

User Lists: 0

Edited By Aristotle

@thisisgonnahurt:

'Well... shit.', thought the SPARTAN at the scene degrading due to his action. Him being sent in by his mysterious contractor under strict orders, Aristotle believed that none of the hostages survived the purge. He who was grown into the perfect tactician, how did it feel to see his offensive succeed and fail at the same time? To men it would've been degrading and depressive but to Aristotle? He maintained a cold and calculating perspective.

There are two kinds of sacrifices in a conflict, he was taught. Lives that are wasted and lives that are spent. And the lives right here? Cadavers began glowing ominously around the room. It seemed like they were about to be spent anyhow. 'Kinetic destabilization?', the Belligerent Bastion was familiar with a catalogue of generic powers. However, even if he indeed managed to guess the ability in question, it's source remained elusive. It seemed The Jack of Hands could extert this effect through his mind.

“EVERYBODY! GROUP UP AND HEAD TO THE DOOR!”, yelled out Aristotle to the men and women who managed to survive with a measured inflection of haste in his voice yet still keeping an eye out on the murderer.

Noticing two distinct twitches in two of the extra extremities placed upon Fourteen's body in the two instances where he was physically assaulted, The Engineered Excellence deduced that those were somehow related to his opponent's ability to take such inhuman punishment. Instead of automatically reengaging his enemy, Aristotle posted behind his shield and lunged backwards towards the squad of survivors after he noticed the corrpese growing brighter.

Unlike the shields of all those other Allegiance imitators, Aristotle was the wielder of a shield that wasn't merely a piece of superdense metal. What appeared as a mere convex discus was actually a piece of complex defensive gadgetry the like of which Earth has never seen. Aside from being magnetically attuned to the two magnets on Aristotle's combat armor it also sported another feature.

The SPARTAN Super-Soldier held his shield tight, his tampering with it's circuitry swift yet concealed from Fourteen's sight by it's robustness. Immediately, a spherical force-field began to extert from the shield's rim. Zero-Point Energy one, serving to maintain the energy state a quantum-mechanical system (the inside of the field) and essentially nullify any force exterted upon it. This measure was designed for one or two people at max and as such the field, while already covering a handful of people, continued to spread slowly.

'These are the times I regret I wasn't programmed with a religion.'

Avatar image for thisisgonnahurt
ThisIsGonnaHurt

42858

Forum Posts

840

Wiki Points

0

Followers

Reviews: 0

User Lists: 4

@aristotle:

Fourteen narrowed his eyes. Over the course of this skirmish, he had a basic understanding of what was happening. Boldly injecting himself into a situation like this never ended well for many heroes. They would emerge with broken bones, damaged weapons, or - more commonly - a growing conscious of what was really at stake. The Freedom Fighter understood this in the blink of an eye, as his kind is wont to do. Civilians mattered, all lives mattered. Escape while they still can.

But beneath this, the menace caught glimpses of an underlying purpose in coming here. He lowered his gaze, focusing solely on the Shield Bearer.

He's figuring out what I can do... this is a recon mission for him...

Grandfather once more tightened around his left pectoral, and his body hardened as energy conservation around him became an impenetrable shell. The deafening explosions around him didn't break his focus as he continued to glare at the All-American through the hazing smoke and fire.

"Door, get us out of here,"

The hand on his right forearm squeezed and a portal opened up behind them. Slinking inside, Fourteen didn't need anyone else to know what he could do for right now. The extent of his powers would be revealed in time. This was not that time.

"I'll remember this,"

"I promise."

And then he had disappeared into the depths of society once more as the Door released its grip, shutting the window of opportunity behind them.

Avatar image for aristotle
Aristotle

890

Forum Posts

0

Wiki Points

0

Followers

Reviews: 0

User Lists: 0

Avatar image for thisisgonnahurt
ThisIsGonnaHurt

42858

Forum Posts

840

Wiki Points

0

Followers

Reviews: 0

User Lists: 4

@aristotle:

I was about to say, this became much more interesting.

Avatar image for hound_of_war
Hound_of_War

3944

Forum Posts

0

Wiki Points

0

Followers

Reviews: 0

User Lists: 0

Just read throigh this. Cant wait for the sequel.

Avatar image for thisisgonnahurt
ThisIsGonnaHurt

42858

Forum Posts

840

Wiki Points

0

Followers

Reviews: 0

User Lists: 4

@aristotle:

When are you available to write said sequel?

Avatar image for aristotle
Aristotle

890

Forum Posts

0

Wiki Points

0

Followers

Reviews: 0

User Lists: 0

Avatar image for thisisgonnahurt
ThisIsGonnaHurt

42858

Forum Posts

840

Wiki Points

0

Followers

Reviews: 0

User Lists: 4

Edited By ThisIsGonnaHurt

@aristotle:

12:20 PM, three days later.

News coverage of the attack had died down somewhat, but people were still looking over their shoulders. No one except those immediately involved knew what happened after the cameras shut off. Everyone assumed that Fourteen was still at large somewhere in-costume, the hands grasping his body in plain view. Such an obvious clothing tactic would be spotted instantly, and the authorities would pounce like hungry tigers. It was a quiet day at the mall, other than that sense of unspoken paranoia.

A man in a black hoodie walked around the perimeter of the shops, idly looking and playing on his phone. He had all his characters in the 3000s on Endless Frontier, but there was always someone else with a level 4000 or higher that ran him over in PvP. Grunting, he looked at the texts he had sent. In impatient frustration he scrolled to the top and read them again. The deep web was a wonderful place to gather certain documents related to personal and tender information like phone numbers or computer receiver signals - especially when his capacity to kill people for such a prize was taken seriously.

He had sent three or so messages already, each of them going unanswered.

"Hello."

"Bring everything you want, and meet me inside the Buckingham Mall at 12:30 PM. Sharp. Alone. Don't ask any questions. It's annoying."

"I'm waiting."

He took a seat on the brick outcropping of a gardened area underneath a prominent skylight. Swiping his phone off, he put his hands in his pockets and looked at the ground. Surely the source didn't lie to him? He had already stained his hands with another life, so it was probably right. Most likely. He pressed a finger on his dry lips, which carried into a scratching at his neck.

No, it was the right contact number. Whatever format they showed up on, he got the messages. The man's bloodshot eyes darted from side to side, scanning for any signs of movement. He smiled and looked back down slowly. Nobody batted an eye at him. To anyone who caught a glimpse of him, they would just think he was a punk hanging out at the mall for lack of anything to do.

Avatar image for aristotle
Aristotle

890

Forum Posts

0

Wiki Points

0

Followers

Reviews: 0

User Lists: 0

@thisisgonnahurt:

╔════╗
║▒▒▒▒ Buckingham Mall
║▒▒▒▒ 12:25
╚════╝

No Caption Provided

«This is SPARTAN 047. I have recieved a raw data bundle over the satcom channel. I thought these things were supposed to be untracable.»

«They are. But you can still make and answer surface telephone prompts. Their primitive comms pose no threat to the progam. Invetigate the source, co-ordinates have been pushed to your interface. Good hunting, SPARTAN.»

«Moving to intercept, Oracle. Over and out.»

Deploying cutting edge, no, futuristic stealth tech, Aristotle's air-to-orbit jet allowed him to infiltrate the city without inducing a state of panic or invoking the inquiry of industrial heroes. He set down atop the actual mall building with nothing but a solemn and subtle whir of ion propulsion.

“Buster.”
“Buster.”

The door shut after deboarding, which he had done in seemingly casual civillian attire that included a navy cap for the plus one in social stealth. Rooftop access was naturally locked but the sleek door didn't even qualify as an obstacle for someone who could curl a Toyota. And so, after a provisory placement of the evidently broken door back onto it's hinges, the SPARTAN Super-Soldier navigated himself into the premises of the building.

Profiling the crowds until noticing an isolated case of puberty, measured from a distance the person seemed as if he could've been the same person he fought three days earlier, the soldier approached the bench.

Avatar image for thisisgonnahurt
ThisIsGonnaHurt

42858

Forum Posts

840

Wiki Points

0

Followers

Reviews: 0

User Lists: 4

@aristotle:

Fourteen smirked as he turned his head, a shaggy mess of dark white hair not concealing the inherent bloodlust in his dry eyes. His cracked lips curled into a degenerate grin as he recognized the soldier even in his civilian clothes. He must have done the same, if he approached Fourteen with such caution in his step.

"Hello again,"

"You're right on time."

Fourteen picked at his neck, as was his natural habit to do so. His broken fingernails and bloodied skin were evidence of that. The emaciated and purely dilapidated appearance of the biological anomaly was in stark contrast to what many people could think of the murderous being once he wore his "mask" on screen. Yet, Father was not gone from this meeting of foes.

The Twins saw to his friends being cast in an invisible cloak, concealing them from sight and mind. Yet Fourteen knew they were there, and aimed to hold that against Aristotle.

"You were interesting to watch. I liked how you hit me, it was just like how Allegiance would have done it from the comic books. Very strong. You must be... a thirty-tonner at least, right?"

He shook his head.

"No, I'm actually here to talk to you seriously. Of course, I fully expect you to listen. I've been walking around this mall waiting for you to show up for over an hour. In that time, The Anger has been accelerating a lot of molecules around each and every store I visited. You remember him, right? He's the one that made the bombs last time,"

He laughed, almost like remembering a classic moment in a cartoon he enjoyed watching growing up.

"I'm curious as to who sent you. It must have been someone with the preemptive knowledge to give you coordinates so quickly. It must have been someone with a lot of time of their hands. Someone with a lot of... experience,"

Fourteen tapped his finger on his head, a compulsive action through and through.

"I've been thinking. Where has the Black Bat (@hound_of_war) actually been? I didn't hear a peep out of him after I dressed up that corpse and Little Brother made it dance on top of the bank. Come to think of it, nothing out of Maverick (@maverick_6) either. And I worked so hard on making that woman look like Moya. I'm a huge fan of hers, you know?"

"I'm not asking for you to outright tell me. There's no fun in that. I want clues. I want to figure it out myself. It'll be a better surprise that way."

Avatar image for aristotle
Aristotle

890

Forum Posts

0

Wiki Points

0

Followers

Reviews: 0

User Lists: 0

(Well shit, this makes me regret not including the part where Aristotle contacts the police regarding a bomb threat.

I just undersold my character. LMAO)

Avatar image for thisisgonnahurt
ThisIsGonnaHurt

42858

Forum Posts

840

Wiki Points

0

Followers

Reviews: 0

User Lists: 4

Avatar image for aristotle
Aristotle

890

Forum Posts

0

Wiki Points

0

Followers

Reviews: 0

User Lists: 0

Edited By Aristotle

@thisisgonnahurt:

Fourteen evidently wasn't stupid, prepared the whole building beforehand according to his psychotic plans. Why put all these lives in danger? For the advantage of course. The liberty to pry information out of Aristotle at his his own leisure. “So you went all this way, got me right into your little mouse trap, because your friends didn't want to play with you?”, said The Neo-Spartan, head turning to the sly devil sitting on the bench.

«...mouse trap...»

Aristotle's transport was programmed to pick up on this parcilar choice of words over their open comms channel. The insides of the aircraft lit up and a dialing process began on one of the monitors. «Voice Command Activation: Contacting the authorities regarding possible villainy in progress.», and with that, after a while law enforcement would arrive and close off the area. And once they did then they would ensure that, progressively, the crowd of people at the mall would thin out until there were none left.

“Okay then.”, a frown of approval formed on his face for a moment before he sat down on an adjacent bench. “I'll play.”, Aristotle proclaim. As far as games were, Aristotle was kept leashed to chess, poker and dame instead of the common child ones. Something about developing his strategic mind and what not. So, as it were, he had no idea how to begin.

Thinking about his clue for a moment, he looked over the mall's periphery and saw two contrasting establishments across one another: a video game shop and a lingerie shop. “A clue then:”, trying to keep his rhetoric in the spirit of the situation. “A Calculus book can't teach you history.”, a faint smile curled up his lip as he said the sentence.

It was everything and more. Why? Because the beauty of this situation was that Fourteen held the impression that Aristotle was like Allegiance or Last Guardian. That he was a fuctioning member of the superhero community. But the truth? Aristotle was just rook, completely oblivious of the machinations of his upper echelon. Whoever it was that wanted him to be at the studio made sure not to leave a name.

Avatar image for thisisgonnahurt
ThisIsGonnaHurt

42858

Forum Posts

840

Wiki Points

0

Followers

Reviews: 0

User Lists: 4

@aristotle:

The Hawk twitched on Fourteen's left wrist. He already didn't trust Aristotle, but even as an invisible entity he could pick up on several suspicious factors in his speech patterns and body language. The societal misanthrope had foreseen something like this, though. He spoke with a false rhythm, kept his words very slightly longer than necessary. Most would chalk this up to a public and relatively relaxed setting. Except, Fourteen was in no mood for red herrings.

"That's funny," he began, tapping his fingers impatiently on his kneecaps.

"So you know nothing then, huh? You're just like me. You're at a low level trying to get experience,"

He was stalling for something, trying to make Fourteen think over and over again to keep him sitting there.

"Unless you do know something. History is based on mathematics. Precise measurements, increments that changed the course of human progress. The slightest deviation of which..."

But Fourteen was doing some stalling of his own, and Hawk noticed the first responding squads coming into the parking lots around the immense building. It was impossible for him to have rigged every single emergency exit with Anger's bombs. But there were still civilians inside. If he threw down his trump card now, he would have a smaller chance of success later as people panicked and ran. Aristotle would pounce on that vacuum of power. Father would not be pleased if he had to transform Fourteen in order to fight him fist-to-fist. Father hated violence.

He was running out of time and options, even if Aristotle thought he had no idea about what was happening. Hawk started to panic. Fourteen remained completely calm.

Looking up at the man who was practically his nemesis at this point, he could feel the Anger seething on his left bicep.

"Could spell disaster. Are you comfortable with your choices so far? Because the fun is about to begin."

Avatar image for thisisgonnahurt
ThisIsGonnaHurt

42858

Forum Posts

840

Wiki Points

0

Followers

Reviews: 0

User Lists: 4

A Little Bit of Insight

No Caption Provided

It's all about one bad day huh?

It's all that separates heroes from villains. In that moment of understanding, it's almost like the villains are enlightened to what heroes possibly ignore. Or, if we turn that on its head, heroes see it and want to change it for the betterment of those around them. Regardless, it is an ugly thing. Everything about it is horrendous and vile. No child should ever have to see what he saw, what he witnessed.

Once upon a time in New York City on a normal day. It's like the setup to a bad joke...

Fourteen navigated the underground websites and detours through forums he had grown accustomed to over the past few months. Without so much as a second glance, he stared down the depths of depravity that humankind is capable of. He did not consider himself part of their world, their heinous ways. Surrounded by all of them, he could easily have destroyed countless more than he already had. But he had to be careful here. He hunted down the business rivals of whoever he wanted information from.

Betty Stone, serial killer who posted her victims online.

Lawrence Hendrickson, weapons smuggler and confirmed terrorist.

Arnold Bailey, child pornography auctioneer.

One after another, he thinned their herds. But they just kept coming. Some even risked to call him "The Black Market Butcher". A killer-for-hire, who just wanted some words and confirmation of documents in exchange for gruesome bursts of violence that surprisingly never got linked back to him. He took another bite of his cookie dough ice cream.

F---ing animals.

Although he wormed his way deep into the underbelly of the vast and unbreakable criminal highway, he had all confidence in his mind that he would eventually snap its spine in two.

"Honey, are you still on your computer?"

He turned his head quickly, sharply. Threads of dark white hair folded over his panic-stricken eyes. The ice cream container was empty and he set it down with a trembling hand. No one else was in the house. But he distinctly heard something... someone.

"M-Mom?"

"M-Mom? Dad? P-Please, just hold on..."

It was a normal day in New York City. That meant a disaster had happened, and hundreds were put at risk. This was the first time Fourteen felt real pain, as he held his parents' hands while they were pinned underneath rubble after an energy blast ripped apart the ice cream parlor they had visited. He was a toddler then.

"We're right here champ, we're okay,"

No Caption Provided

The more Fourteen thought about it in later years, the more he realized he might had been kneeling on a piece of rock that had broken several of his dad's ribs. He always falsely blamed himself for somehow expediting what happened next, though it would have come to pass inevitably. Their hands, once strong and loving, suddenly fell limp. The heroes pursued their agendas fighting off the alien menace. People running away just left him there, his hands bloodied with the last shreds of his parents' conscious minds, always assuming a hero would come to save him instead of actively picking him up off the ground. He couldn't move. He had been paralyzed with the image of his mother and father, looking up at him with eyes pleading for help... and he could do nothing.

Nobody did anything.

From that day on, he swore to rid the world of heroes who were just pretenders, those who just did it for the fame and money and not the people. His perception of right and wrong intermingled into a terrible parody of morality.

He started with the heroes who fought off the alien menace, the ones who hogged the spotlight.

One by one, these names disappeared off the rosters. By the time the child had grown to eighteen years old, he had killed six major heroes. His latent ability to steal and use the powers of those he had physical contact with worked in terrifying unison with his natural capability of disintegrating molecular bonds. His fascination with the hands stemmed from his last contact with his parents, their hands reaching out for help while also comforting him in the most heroic way they could...

Self-sacrifice, honesty, and kindness towards the downtrodden... that is what makes a hero worthwhile.

Anyone who could not embody that was not worthy of being called a hero and must be punished with death.

Soon, the menace known as Fourteen had accumulated hundreds of hands, hands that were simultaneously trophies of his kills as well as conduits to use their powers with. He chose that name because he could only carry fourteen hands on his body at any given time. Any additional ones would overload his central nervous system.

Just as he thought, he had been daydreaming again. Nobody knew that he was here.

He looked at the clock in the bottom corner of his computer.

"I need to get ready for my meeting (@aristotle)."

It was 9:45 AM, and he packed up what he needed and left.

(Happy one week birthday, Fourteen)

Avatar image for aristotle
Aristotle

890

Forum Posts

0

Wiki Points

0

Followers

Reviews: 0

User Lists: 0

Edited By Aristotle

Stahp being so good you rude-ass animal. Making me look bad and shit :-[

Avatar image for thisisgonnahurt
ThisIsGonnaHurt

42858

Forum Posts

840

Wiki Points

0

Followers

Reviews: 0

User Lists: 4

@aristotle:

Well get to it, making you look good and shit :P

Avatar image for aristotle
Aristotle

890

Forum Posts

0

Wiki Points

0

Followers

Reviews: 0

User Lists: 0

Edited By Aristotle

@thisisgonnahurt:

The Young Spartan was unfazed by Fourteens odd conclusion. The overly dramatic rhetoric signalled all the red flags in Aristotle's mind. He retreated his gaze from the teenager on the bench next to him and panned over the thinning scene. History.”, he began and wput his hands into the side pockets of his navy blue jacket.. “History is what we make of it.”, turning his head away and then slowly breathing in and out.

Harnessing this ploy of his feigned distraction, Aristotle's inhumanly thick spinal column sent swift signals to his arm to explode in a prime fashion. His hand shot upwards to Fourteens head in the fraction of a second, a blur to whatever man still stood nearby. Yet, this wasn't the attack. No, his hand stopped at head height. Aristotle himself could not exceed the speed of sound, the whole-body muscular synergies lacking the necessary power, but in a smaller scale? Like a simple snap of his fingers. That could be done.

*BoOoM!*

The fingers were the frailest parts in the human anatomy. In Aristotle's case, however, even they had multi-ton capacity. A capacity harnessed as his thumb and middle finger clashed against one another, invoking a vigorous sonic boom inside the premises of the mall. Aristotle knew he couldn't win this fight head on, not with Fourteens preparations in place, so he had to take him quickly and mercilessly. The sonic boom hoping to literally summon enviromental pressures that not only turned the mall's windows into tiny transparent shrapnel that rained around them but that would explode Fourteen's head from the inside were he not protected by some paranormal means.

Or at the very least break his opponent's concentration.

Aristotle's own adjacent eardrum exploded. Ringing immortalized. “Ow.”, sighed the super-soldier lowly with cold eyes as he didn't waste time to rise from the seat. One hand veiled in the inside of his jacket, it pulled out a CZ75 handgun which proceeded to unload it's 9mm magazine at whatever would emerge. Double tap.

Avatar image for thisisgonnahurt
ThisIsGonnaHurt

42858

Forum Posts

840

Wiki Points

0

Followers

Reviews: 0

User Lists: 4

@aristotle:

Oooh...

Fourteen might not have anything against that lol

Avatar image for aristotle
Aristotle

890

Forum Posts

0

Wiki Points

0

Followers

Reviews: 0

User Lists: 0

@thisisgonnahurt: ... Choosing the asshole supersoldier approach wasn't the finest of my choices.

I might've overdid it a fair bit but I don't wanna see Fourteen out of the game since you also seem to have a blast with him. Just sell as you feel like or I can tweak the post tomorrow if you wish.

Avatar image for thisisgonnahurt
ThisIsGonnaHurt

42858

Forum Posts

840

Wiki Points

0

Followers

Reviews: 0

User Lists: 4

@aristotle:

Fingerbang 2op

Nah I got plenty of ideas man.

...Just you wait...
...Just you wait...

I don't know if this will influence Fourteen's opinion on Aristotle, on if he's a "pretender hero" or not.

Avatar image for thisisgonnahurt
ThisIsGonnaHurt

42858

Forum Posts

840

Wiki Points

0

Followers

Reviews: 0

User Lists: 4

Edited By ThisIsGonnaHurt

@aristotle:

Ringing. Ringing.

Did he die? Blood flow stopped at that crucial juncture, and there was a theory online that the sudden deprivation of a heartbeat often coincided with a loud and high-pitched whine. No... he was not dead.

He could still see the bastard who did this to him.

Fourteen reached for his ears, instinctively reacting to the sensation of something wet on his neck. Not surprisingly, he found blood. His eyes twitched with agitation as he put two and two together. Ruptured eardrums, loss of equilibrium...

He tested this theory, and found his legs to be unresponsive. He tried to remain stationary, but the inner mechanisms of his ears were too far damaged and his vision started to blur again.

Pinned here, under enemy fire. No sudden moves or he will pounce. The walls are breached and his units are free to move inside towards the objective. I'm running out of ammo, and I'll have to send my skirmishers into melee to hold them off.

He put this all into terms from a video game, something he could adapt to easily in a crisis situation such as this. He remained completely calm and focused as the All-American stalked him like a hungry lion waiting for his prey to just try and run.

Fourteen could feel Mother trying to patch him up, but Father's oppressive strength kept her from doing something like that. He wanted Fourteen to do this for himself, and not rely so much on tanking Aristotle's attacks. Besides, Mother's healing always relied on how much stamina a target had. She was not magic. She directly used the body's natural energy to dictate accelerated regeneration. If she did it too much to one person, they could end up accidentally dying instead.

"You have all the cards, Aristotle," the menace muttered without hearing himself, still talking in game logic.

"A fully stacked roster, looks like,"

He saw the pistol, and imagined the enemy's legendary lord descending on top of the rest of his units. Game over. Nothing can counter that.

He still couldn't bring his legs to work.

"Except for one thing,"

During this entire exercise, Fourteen had an ulterior motive. Another huge reason Mother wasn't healing him, was because he already had two powers active. Any more, and he could not deal with the shock to his central nervous system. Before Aristotle got here, Fourteen had used Legion. He could never hope to rig all the emergency exits with Anger's bombs - alone at least. Legion saw copies of the genetic misanthrope going everywhere, planting bombs in every conceivable place and doorway.

And they were about to go off.

Fourteen's Legion clones suddenly appeared in tandem with Aristotle brandishing the firearm from his pocket. Their hands in their collective pockets, smiling a crooked and dry grin at the Patriot as they surrounded him - little more than a distraction.

"Reinforcements. Twenty-three," Fourteen muttered again, this time in reference to the time limit he had on individual powers at any given moment. He barely had seven minutes left until Legion started bonding permanently to his body, so he didn't have time for a fight. They were just there for a few more moments while Anger did his job.

In frightening unison, those explosive triggers collapsed and the entire mall went up in smoke. Surgically designed to not exactly harm anyone, but cause enough of a panic that the emergency workers would have their hands full, Anger's bombs went off without a hitch. Legion dissipated his copies, and Fourteen stood back up, Mother's healing bringing him back to working order. He didn't waste any time, and ducked inside of one of Door's portals. The Twins' illusion of keeping the hands on his body invisible finally wore off as he did this.

"Aristotle," he shouted over the continued din of artillery fire, Anger's bombs remaining completely relentless in their ferocity even as he made his escape again.

"You're smart, and I admire you,"

No Caption Provided

And then, he was gone.

Avatar image for thisisgonnahurt
ThisIsGonnaHurt

42858

Forum Posts

840

Wiki Points

0

Followers

Reviews: 0

User Lists: 4

There's going to be a Kimi post after I get some sleep.

Avatar image for thisisgonnahurt
ThisIsGonnaHurt

42858

Forum Posts

840

Wiki Points

0

Followers

Reviews: 0

User Lists: 4

No Caption Provided

Beauty.

It's something we can create, we perfect, we strive to achieve. It doesn't have to be physical beauty, an illusion of the mind where facial symmetry and body structure create an image of appealing optical input. No, beauty is anything. It can be anything. The effort put into the Eiffel Tower, the engineering behind Mount Rushmore, the intricate wiring to the smallest tablet or laptop currently on the market... the possibilities are all around us.

A special little girl in a nameless town had an idea of beauty. It was her own, her precious nugget of information and insight in a world where anything could happen at any given time. She enjoyed playing horror games. She would reenact her favorite scenes from pure muscle memory. Her friends always tried running, but she would catch them. Then she would need new friends.

Newer, fresher friends.

Her name was Kimi, and she never grew up out of this mindset of playing. It was always a game to her, even when the fires started spreading.

The sun rose on that day, and the ground trembled. She caught a glimpse of true horror, something not unlike the things she saw in her games. She saw the shapeshifting worms, the tendrils of an apocalyptic dawn. The neverending maws of gaping madness, and the tidal waves of blood that followed. Man had descended into something it was never meant to understand, and she looked at it in the face and cried.

She never forgot how happy she was when it happened, and her face never once bent out of that twisted grin plastered on her curled lips. Tears of the ultimate joy, as the Doctor stood on top of one of his gargantuan creations, sacrificing the fleeing masses to the hunger of his twisted mind and curiosity. But she saw a genius at work, a rotting maestro conducting a dead choir for a dead pope.

She never forgot how happy she was.

She never forgot how happy he made her.

It's always the aftermath of some great disaster, isn't it? Where the heroes failed, and insanity succeeded. Where desolation never recovered, where help never arrived. People do the darndest things when faced with their imminent deaths. Some accept it wholeheartedly, succumbing to the fear and desperation of a crumbling reality.

But others... they just see it as a window of opportunity.

"Hold still, my love, this will only hurt for a second..."

The body pillow twitched erratically, and stopped moving with a sudden gasping noise. And then nothing.

Kimi scratched her nose.

"Another one huh? I'll never get to Wheatley-senpai now..."

The half-empty bucket of water next to her remained eerily still. Her subject of the moment, strapped down to the table with leather belts, coughed and sputtered after a ghostly minute had passed of pure silence.

"There you are... now... tell me what I want to hear..."

She removed the sopping-wet pillowcase from the man's face.

"Y-You're amazing Kimi-chan! The best I've ever had! Please, m-marry me!"

She blushed, and held her hands up to her face... her smile indicative of happiness.

"Aw, you're so sweet!"

His panic-stricken eyes darted around, looking for a way out. If he could appeal to her ego this way... maybe there could be a moment of mercy... he thought.

"But Wheatley-senpai would never say it like that!"

She replaced the pillowcase over his head and poured half of the remaining water directly over where his mouth was. Turning off the lights, she quivered a little bit as the last mindless gasps for air were extinguished. The storage unit fell silent as she closed and locked the door behind her.

"Oh... Doctor... I'm so close to you, I can barely stand it..."

  • 59 results
  • 1
  • 2