Cowman

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"Any way kids," he says with a smirk "Name's Jake Q. Millions, the 'Q' is for Badass. You folks here for the Tempest?"

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The rather scathing remarks didn't seem to affect Yin, who simply smiled at the newcomer and bowed in the same respectful manner as before.

"Hello Mr. Millions. I have yet to decide on which school to start with. Both interest me greatly. Perhaps some of the other students will have some advice for me."


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"My name's Gerden, Mr. Millions. This other student was just about to introduce himself when you... showed up."

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"Ah yes, do forgive me," the boy said, bowing again in apology. "I am Fang Yin."

Yin was a little surprised by the sudden arrival of the two girls, but quickly recovered and greeted them in the same way he had Gerden and Jack. The lead one seemed to size them up for a bit before speaking.


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"Who's up for a quick match?" she asked.

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"I am honored by the request. I will gladly accept your offer, unless one of the others would rather take it." He stepped off to the side, giving the two older fighters first choice.

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There's no minimum character age, and there's no restriction on gender. My character is actually an alumni of both schools....at age 9. She's returning to help point the students in the right direction.

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((D*mn! About halfway through the first post I was thinkin' "little kid monk". Oh well, mine's eleven so he's taller anyway. Nyah!! ))

A young boy walked slowly but steadily across the land. He carried an old looking pack on his back as well as a wooden staff he was using as a walking stick. His outfit consisited of loose pants and tunic that looked right out of a history book and, for those with knowledge in such things, were clearly of shaolin origin. The only modern thing about him was the pair of battered sneakers on his feet.

Fang Yin had been raised at a shaolin temple by his uncle after his mother died giving birth. He had taken to the monks' training and lessons almost immediately and soon excelled in them even at a young age. Seeing this, one of the oldest monks in the temple had taken the boy aside and told him a story of two temples.

Yin was fascinated by the tale and tried to find out all he could about these temples. The master monk finally agreed to help the boy, and so he had left his home and traveled to where the Twin Temples were said to appear.

Yin had always been eager to learn anything he could, whether it be martial art styles or philophies. The chance to be a student at schools such as these was too good to pass up. He wasn't power-hungry per se; just very dedicated to bettering himself in any way he could while still keeping the humble lessons of his shaolin brothers close to his heart.

Upon nearing the spot told to him, Yin found another person already there. The young Chinese boy bowed his shaved head to the man.

"Hello sir," he greeted respectfully, his accent noticible but not distracting. He'd studied hard for this as well. "I do not wish to impose, but to find you here on this particular day, I must assume you are here for admittance into the Twin Temples as well?"

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“There we go.” He said smiling. “I wonder who fouled the thing this time?” He asked to no one in particular as he carefully made sure every scrap of waste paper made it into the recycle bin.

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Walter stood to the side, innocently sipping his coffee until the young man had left. Then he quickly snatched his document out from under the copier's lid and hurried back to his desk. Setting back down, Walter sighed heavily, trying to settle his seemingly constant frayed nerves. Reaching over he wound up the music box once again, going back to work once he felt a little calmer.

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(OOC: ...
...
...
...
THEN WHY IS IT SNOWING?!)

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((Eh, it's not too farfetched. I've seen snow in October before. Having it around Thanksgiving isn't very odd. But maybe it's a regional thing. ))

Walter arranged a group of papers, putting the finishing touches on before standing up to make some copies of them. Slipping the first page under the lid he hit the print button and waited.

The machine whirred for a little, clicked a couple times and then went silent. Walter shifted nervously, looking around him and then back at the copier. It didn't seem to be starting up again. He hit the button again only to get the same result.

His mind worked desperately to try and come up with some bit of copier-information it may have. Finally deciding that maybe it needed the settings re-entered, he gingerly pushed another button.

The machine suddenly sucked in five papers at once, groaning in protest. Eyes wide in panic, Walter punched at a couple more buttons in a vain attempt to fix it. The machine began to vibrate as more papers were added to the wad already jammed in the thing's workings.

Finally not able to take anymore, Walter grabbed the cord and yanked it from the wall. The machine stopped dead, the sudden silence almost making the poor man more nervous than he was before. Looking around sheepishly at some of the people who'd heard the racket, Walter called for maitenance and shakingly poured himself a cup of coffee.

((Okay, thought I'd give this a shot.))


Walter Willis had a routine. He'd come in to work, give his usual nervous nod at the security guard's jovial greeting, head to his cubicle and work until it was time to leave. It may not have been a very enjoyable routine, but it was consistant and safe. And Walter liked 'safe'.

Now this routine shouldn't imply that Walter was a dull man. Oh, he had his little quirks and dreams. Baseball was one of them; music another. He wasn't exactly talented at either, but he enjoyed going to the batting range and listening to his CDs and records.

Walter had been working at Tharomar Enterprises for a little over a decade now, never rising any farther from where he started. Not that he expected to. Walter wasn't cynical, it was just that, at 47, he didn't expect much to change in his life.

He wasn't a very striking man. His glasses were old-fashioned with thick lenses and his usual black suits, while respectable, all showed their age. Walter had begun balding rather young, actually shaving his head for awhile before simply losing the ambition. Now the remaining hair along the back of his head hung down to his shoulders, whether from preference or neglect was hard to tell. His remaining hair and beard were still black, having escaped any graying so far, but had a lifelessness that only prolonged exposure to ultraviolet lights and computer monitors could bring.

He was of average height and a respectable weight. As a matter of fact that word, 'respectable', was often used to describe Walter. Never exceptional, never inadequate; always just 'respectable'. He had a shy, nervous personality that some may have described as mousy and a general air of melancholy that he seemed completely unaware he was emitting.

The routine had gone on perfectly today. Walter rode the train to work, nodded at the guard, rode the elevator and sat down at his cubicle. He didn't carry a suitcase as his old one broke and he never seemed to get around to replacing it. Instead he simply carried a large brown bag slung over his shoulder.

Sitting down at his desk he removed his papers and notebooks from his bag, arranging them around his computer to be dealt with shortly. There were no photographs on his desk. No cartoons pasted to the walls of the cubicle or crayon-scrawled drawings displayed with fatherly pride. The only personal thing that was ever located on Walter Willis' desk was the object he was removing from his bag at that moment.

A small glass globe on a simple wooden stand. He set it on his desk, plugging it into the outlet. A soft blue light sprung up inside the globe, illuminating the small harlequin-like figure inside, frozen in a pose from some whimsical dance. He turned the key, starting up the musical box version of some classical score that probably only Walter could tell you the name of. He watched it for a minute or two, the little figure turning slowly around and around, and gave a little smile before turning to his work. It was what he always did. It was his routine.

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"Ay yo, youse needs some help here? Man, them lights was pretty freaky. So, what'cher name?"

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"Um, I'm Be..." the girl started before catching herself. "I mean, I'm the Flying Squirrel. Thanks, I guess I let my mind wander. I didn't even notice them spot me." She hopped back as one creature lept onto the wall after her. Dodging several attacks, she flipped backward to gain some distance and flung a couple throwing knives at the monster. Her near-pouty expression when they didn't seem to have any effect was almost comical.

She quickly shrugged out of the dark red poncho she'd been wearing to keep out the recent rains, tiring of it restricting her movements. The formfitting outfit underneath was a light tan with white markings on the front and around the gloves and boots. A cowl fitted over her head with two ears sewn on the top.

"So do you know what's going on?" she asked the larger man. "I mean, are these guys aliens or... some.... thing......" The Squirrel's question trailed off as the two new monsters appeared. This wasn't the muggings and bank robberies she was used to. She was SO outta her league here.

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Then, from overhead, an entire swarm of the white glints flew across the sky and slammed into the unsuspecting city.

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The figure in the tree temporarily lost interest in the fight below as the multitude of shimmering lights began raining down on the city. Her eyes were wide as she stared at the sky, not sure what to do next. Should she stay and help these people here? Should she head into the other parts of the city to see what the situation was? Maybe she should head back home and make sure everyone there was okay. Sure, they where on the outskirts of Paragon, but who knew were all these things where falling.

The girl paid for her sudden lack of concentration when one of the energy creatures surprised her. She hadn't noticed being spotted until the glowing sword came within inches of her, slicing away the branch she'd been standing on. Unable to catch herself in time, the girl landed ignominiously, and rather painfully, on her rear.

She didn't have time to reflect on her humiliation, however, as the creature came at her again with the sword. Giving a short squeak of fear the girl rolled backward, narrowly avoiding the deadly strike. She continued the roll, bringing her to her feet just in time to dodge another swing of the weapon.

The wind made by the blade's passing washed over her face as she bent bacward to avoid it. Pivoting to the side she shifted weight to her hands, cartwheeling her legs in the air to avoid a low swipe from a second assailant.

She ducked underneath a diagnol slash to the right, sidestepped a vertical swing to her left, and backflipped over a lunge from behind. Timing the flip perfectly, she landed on the outstretched blade, pushing off less than a second later and landing on the second one's shoulder to immediatly vault backward over the first.

She lost her balance on the landing as she ducked the creature again as he whirled around to try and catch her with his weapon. Stumbling backward a bit, she ran into one of the large statures that were in some of the cemetarys of Dark Astoria.

Reaching above her head, the girl grabbed one of the carved wrinkles in the stone robe, pulling herself up abruptly to avoid a swipe at her midsection. She dropped to the ground in a crouch, a slash from the second creature whistling over her head, and sprung almost straight up, her hands briefly grabbing the thing's head as she leapfrogged over it.

One of her assailants was prepared this time, however, and caught her in the side with a spinning kick. The small girl flew several feet across the grass before sliding to a stop. She pulled herself painfully to her knees, looking up to find the two monsters staring down at her. They raised their swords to finish her off, only to have the statue, who's base had been severed by their ealier attacks, fall directly on them with a loud thud.

The girl blinked several times at the toppled masonary before regaining her footing and scurrying up the statue before any more of the creatures could box her in on the ground.

A small figure scurried cautiously around the edges of the cemetary, keeping to the shadows as she watched the battle nearby. Her feet expertly found the perfect steps as she ran across the thin top bar of one of the large gates and vaulted off the top to land in a tree, her careful leap hardly even rustling the branches.

Crouching low on her perch, the figure watched the three fighters to see how they faired against the glowing creatures. She didn't want to jump right into the middle of something like this without any information whatsoever, so it would be best to hang back and try and see just what she was dealing with here.

The wave of sonic force caught him off guard, knocking him back and through a support pillar. He was up on his feet in a second, following the villainess' escape path.

'Twilight Masquerade. Queen of Desires. Sounds like another group of high-class looneys to deal with.' Shoving his thoughts to the side, he rocketed after the woman, putting on a quick burst of speed to try and cut her off.

"Stand down now," he shouted after her. "I won't warn you again." A piece of rubble was still clutched in his hand; he pulled back his arm and sent it flying at his quarry.

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((Oh and the person you create HAS to be a Super Hero or Villain, I just didnt tell you what Tellus' powers are yet ))

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((Darn, and I had a character in mind too. 'Because of a case of mistaken identity, a Paragon City civilian must survive the Blood Tracks with nothing but a baseball bat and his wits.' Guess I'll have ta think of someone else. ))

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He yells to her in a booming voice, “villain, you will die at the hands of……….

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"... Red Vulcan." Okay, maybe a little over the top. He hadn't really mean to say 'die', but then again, the lady had just killed who knew how many people in that building. He wasn't feeling too charitible. Dust sifted from his blue and red costume as he reached down and grabbed the front of her dress, hoisting her into the air.

"But if you're smart and give up now, I won't have to hurt you.... too much," he added on to the end with a smirk, his heavy cape catching a breeze and snapping menacingly. Vulcan tossed her across the room again, hoping to take the fight out of her right away. He floated almost casually after her, his red electric-like energy crackling around his hands.

((Hope you don't mind me givin' this a try, just let me know if I've made any mistakes and I'll correct 'em. One question: I'm assuming that she's using her maiden name and Miovella is not her husband's name.))

Lou pulled himself out of yet another crater he had made after being slammed into the ground. His shirt was ripped in a couple places and he was even bleeding a little. It took a lot to get him to bleed, and it almost always made him irritable since it usually meant annoying complications.

"Ya know, if you'd kept the gun you might not be losin' right now," his hair scolded him.

"I... ain't... LOSIN'," he growled, catching the rock demon's next punch and returning an uppercut that lifted the monster a good two feet off the ground.

"Okay, point taken, but you ain't exactly winnin' either."

Lou merely growled in response, jumping onto the downed creature and tearing away at its rocky hide until it managed to throw him away again.

=======================================

Meanwhile, Bu darted nervously from shelter to shelter. So far all the demons she'd passed hadn't seen her, being more interested in the sound of battle not far away. It made her feel both afraid and relieved, and then guilty that some part of her actually WAS relieved.

Louis had been her best friend as a child and she'd been heartbroken when he left. Now, if she lost him again so soon after his return; she wasn't sure she'd be able to bear it. Leaning against a building to give her throbbing ankle a rest, she gave a silent prayer that her friend would make it back to her soon.

((Shoot! Take a weekend off and the thread explodes on me. Oh well, let's try to get back inta the swing o' things.))


Lou rubbed his arm as he walked along. He had bandaged Bu's ankle and now carried her on his back, his large coat fashioned into a makeshift sling that held her.

"D*mn things almost broke the skin," he muttered irritably as he scratched the faint red bruises on his arm.

"That's magic for ya Lou," the voice from his hair said, a hint of humor coloring it. "Normal rules don't apply. And remember what that soldier told ya. Get bit and ya turn inta one of these uglies. No guaruntee if even you could shrug that off."

"Eh, always hated this mumbo-jumbo crap. Gimme a straight forward fight any day over some...." Lou's complaining was cut off by a sound to his right. Strangely enough, a pile of rocks seemed to be looking at him. Slowly reaching around, he prodded the bundle on his back.

/"Louis?"/ Bu said sleepily. /"What's the matter? Are we there already?"/

/"Not yet babe,"/ the mercenary replied, easing her down to the ground. /"I think we got us some more trouble. Take this and head that way as quick and quiet as you can."/ He pointed toward the road they'd been following, handing her the large gun that had been strapped to his leg.

/"I can't leave you here, Louis,"/ Bu protested, finally noticing the moving stone demon. /"Surely we could outrun it."/

/"Maybe, but the noise would bring more o' the nasties after us. Don't worry about it; I'll take care of him and catch ya up in a little bit."/ He gave her a grin, gently pushing her off in the direction he'd pointed. Hesitantly she obeyed, his coat wrapped about her small frame like a cloak with the oversized, alien handgun clutched in her arms.

"Confident, aren't we," the voice teazed.

"Well she wouldn't have left if I sounded as worried as I am," Lou shot back, squaring his shoulders as the thing advanced on him. " 'sides, ya never know. Maybe it ain't as tough as it looks." The demon suddenly shot forward, one massive arm swinging down to slam him into the earth.

"You were saying?"

"Ah, shut up," he growled, pushing himself up before the monster could continue its attack. Lou was faster by far, and the rock chipped and crumbled under his blows. Still the thing fought on, the damage seeming only superficial. The mercenary managed to grab one arm at one point, bringing his hand down on the stone wrist hard enough to crush it, sending the demon's hand tumbling to the ground. A backhand from the other arm sent Lou careening into another pile of rubble.

Meanwhile, Bu hobbled along, barely restraining herself from turning back as the sounds of the fighting went on behind her.

((Okay, here goes. Tell me if I screw somethin' up. The <> means it's translated from Japanese.))

A young woman dashed behind the remains of a building. Actually it used to be her next-door neighbors' house, but now it was like the rest of the small town; empty and ruined. It was hard to believe that just a couple weeks ago they had waved at her from their yard, yelling a cheerful <"Good morning, Bu">. No more, however.

When the monsters had first appeared, she'd managed to hide from them. Escaping the fate many of those she used to know had suffered. Unfortunately, it had left her stranded in the small residential area just south of Shinjuku.

For the last few days she'd managed to avoid the roaming bands of demons, but it was obvious that it wouldn't last for long. There were only two glimmers of hope for her survival. The first was that she might be able to make it to Shinjuku where, she'd heard over the radio, there was protection.

The second glimmer was actually a small object clutched in her hand. It was a small circular device that she had been given a long time ago when she was only 12. When she had found herself trapped with the demons, she had activated it, and now a small light flashed repeatedly.

Feeling she couldn't afford to stay still any longer, Bu began making her way out of town, hoping that with some luck she could make it to the protected Shinjuku. This idea was dashed when a loud shrieking cry told her she'd been spotted.

Not bothering to look back she ran, the sound of wings spurring her on even in her fatigue. She looked about wildly for anywhere to hide and escape, but there was no chance now. More demons joined the chase, attracted by the crys and commotion of pursuit.

Finally Bu stumbled, crashing to the ground in a pitiable heap. She tried to stand, but her ankle was clearly broken, and any attempt to move it sent agony shooting through her nerves. As the demons gathered around their injured prey, she closed her eyes tight, waiting for the inevitable.

It never came, though. Something heavy suddenly landed close to her and she heard the death shriek of one of the monsters. Opening her eyes she saw a large figure looming over her. It was at least 7 feet tall and looked to be made of large, gnarled muscle. He wore a battered overcoat and dusty boots held tight by large leather straps. An uruly mass of brown hair sprouted from the top of his head, and his face was weathered, hard, and strangely lacking both ears and a nose.

The remains of a demon hung from his hand, it's crushed head held in one large mitt. With the element of surprise, the figure quickly dispatched the remaining four monsters and turned back to the girl. Now it would only be natural for a person to shrink from the sight of this intimadating man, but Bu actually threw herself, broken ankle and all, into his arms.

<"Louis!"> she exclaimed in relief. <"I was afraid you wouldn't come.">

<"Hey, I toldja I would, shortstuff,"> he replied in her language, returning the hug which almost swallowed the smaller woman up in his large arms. <"That gadjet's got a range in the lightyears. Soon as I heard it I made a bee-line for this mudball. Got here just in time too."> He grinned, pulling back a little, but still holding her up to keep the pressure off her ankle.

"Yo, Lou," a small voice drifted from his hair. "We got more company." The big man turned around to find another group of demons advancing on them.

<"Hold tight here for a bit, babe,"> he told Bu, sitting her carefully on the ground. The group was slightly larger this time, and he no longer had the advantage of surprise. Lou shrugged out of his overcoat revealing arms tattooed with languages and symbols never seen on Earth. "And I'm not even gettin' paid for this," he muttered as the monsters lunged at him.

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thank you and remember the only difference between a dead trombone player on the road and a dead skunk on the road-there are skidmarks before the skunk.

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*breaks out old trombone to deliver a slide-enhanced pounding*

Level 1 SS/Invul. I'm a pretty big guy (size, not musclature) so I'd say I had Resist Physical damage. And my Jab can flatten any old lady or malnourished little kid who DARES cross my path. Though I DO have the "Busted-up Plymouth Neon" travel power. The controls are a little awkward and it burns endurance like a b*tch, but it's something at least. *shrug*

Since this is a game based on comic book superheroes, someone coming back from the dead is entirely acceptable and believable. Pretty much any reason can be given.

That being said, I like the whole "love brings her back" idea. Makes a nice change from the usual vengence stuff you usually get. Though you COULD always go the mysterious route.

Maybe she doesn't know how she came back. She could consolt someone from M.A.G.I. maybe, and the Draugr could be given as a possible cause. But was it that, or was it something else? Dun Dun Duuunnnnnnnn

This could also lead to another storyline later on, where she finds out just how and why she's not dead.

Jus' my two cents.

I've got a few villains who didn't come from the Zig, so I got no problem with it.

CHARACTER NAME: Doreen "Dodo" Sykes
DORM ROOM/LOCATION: Room #1320
STORYTELLER: The Cowman
THEME SONG: 'Peacock Song' -Bif Naked 'Numb' -Pink
SHORT DESCRIPTION: About 5'6", pink dreadlocks, robotic arms. Mischievous and a bit of an a**hole.
PHOTO (URL): Picture 1 Picture 2
CREY INDUSTRIES FILE (URL): Entry #18580
KNOWN ASSOCIATES (SG): None

Hey, I just noticed the other day that the Blakmoore and Whitmoore both have one of these thread, but Paragon University doesn't. So I figured I'd throw one up myself. Pretty much usual format. Feel free to add anything, I'm just doin' bare bones info here.

CHARACTER NAME:
DORM ROOM/LOCATION:
STORYTELLER:
THEME SONG:
SHORT DESCRIPTION:
PHOTO (URL):
CREY INDUSTRIES FILE (URL):
KNOWN ASSOCIATES (SG):

CHARACTER NAME: Marcus Kirke
APARTMENT NUMBER/LOCATION: #303
STORYTELLER: The Cowman
THEME SONG: Bodies, by Drowning Pool. Room of Angel, by Akira Yamaoka
SHORT DESCRIPTION: 6'3", scar over one eye, other eye brown, short black hair, paranoid, manipulative, extremely clever. Assault Rifle/Traps Corruptor
PHOTO (URL): Shot 1 -- Shot 2
HERO CORPS RAP SHEET (URL): None Available
KNOWN ASSOCIATES (VG): Jacqueline "Jack" Barton. Formely known as "Jack of All Trades", sidekick of Vorza: Master of Fire.

CHARACTER NAME: Shin-Zu
APARTMENT NUMBER/LOCATION: #430
STORYTELLER: The Cowman
THEME SONG: The Lonely Shepard, by Zamfir. Gortoz a Ran-J'attends, by Denez Prigent & Lisa Gerrard
SHORT DESCRIPTION: 6'3", white hair with "fu man chu" style mustache and beard, age unknown but definitly old, brown eyes, tattoos on chest, arms, and back. Martial Arts/Ninjitsu Stalker.
PHOTO (URL): Headshot -- Fighting Stance
HERO CORPS RAP SHEET (URL): None Available
KNOWN ASSOCIATES (VG): No Known Associates

Kirke was taking another look over the blueprints of the building when he heard the van pull up outside. He set the papers aside and headed downstairs to meet Jack. The blueprints hadn't been too hard to get ahold of and he pretty much had them memorized by now. He ignored the activity in the lobby as he pushed through the doors, catching sight of Jack as she was opening the van.

"Is this everything," he asked as he walked up behind her. Jack was a rather short girl, about 5'3", with short shaggy brown hair and crooked teeth. Her face was rather ordinary which let her pass for 18, which is what she told everyone she was, even though she was actually a bit younger than that.

"Yeah, that's it," she answered irritably as she pulled duffel bags from the van with a strength that seemed more than her wirey frame was capable of. Kirke took four of them, two in each hand, while Jack managed to haul the last three herself. As soon as they were back in his room with the door shut, Kirke went straight to unpacking the bags.

"This place is a dump," Jack stated after a little, absently unpacking one of the bags herself. She paused suddenly, putting a hand to her stomach as it lurched painfully.

"Nausious," Kirke asked without looking up from what he was doing.

"It took me longer to get over here than I thought," she replied, rubbing her stomach gingerly. Reaching into one of his coat's many pockets, Kirke pulled out a small canister full of blue pills. He handed a couple to Jack who took them as disinterestedly as she could, but downed them quickly as soon as his back was turned. She let out a faint sigh as her stomach started to quiet down.

"So," she said, going back to unpacking the bag. "You gotta be goin' nuts about now, huh? I mean, all these supers in the building and you having to be right in the middle of 'em..." she trailed off, sounding a little too cheerful about his situation.

"It's business kid," Kirke replied calmly as he pulled out another of the many weapons from the duffel bag. It was rather large looking and the clip in the handle only held 10 large shells, but it was enough. After all, the Malto scientists who came up with the design hadn't nicknamed it the 'Cape Killer' for nothing.

"It's all just business."

Marcus Kirke stood in the doorway, duffel bag slung over his shoulder as he watched Jenkins lead the black woman to her room. He made a quick note of her accent and attitude, his eyes looking out from the pulled up hood of his dull blue military coat. Another 'super' thoroughly convinced of their sovereignty over everything. His eyes narrowed a little before he pushed the feeling aside and headed for his own room.

Like many other rooms in the building it was rather rundown, but it suited him fine. There wasn't much furniture in the room; a couple wooden chairs and a couch with a beat-up coffee table in front of it. Kirke's laptop sat on the coffee table; the only expensive looking thing in the room. A beeping told him he had a call. Dropping the duffel bag on the couch he sat down, hitting the answer button on the screen.

"Kirke," he said simply.

"Marcus! My dear friend," a jovial voice with a thick Russian accent answered him. "I heard you had escaped that awful prison they put you in. The Zigganut, yes?"

"Ziggeraut," Kirke corrected absently. "What do you want Aleksei?"

"Well," the Russian man continued, getting to the point, "I also heard you were working for this Arachnos group now. You know my curiousity, my friend. I had to find if it was true."

"Not your concern," Kirke answered firmly. "Let's just say I'm still taking jobs if you've got something for me."

"Ah, nothing at the moment my friend," Aleksei sighed in mock despair. "Perhaps later. Goodbye Marcus."

Kirke ended the transmission without replying. Typing in another number he waited until it was answered by a rather youngish sounding girl.

"Geez, it's about time," she growled irritably. "I was startin' to think they'd dragged you back to the Zigg. Too bad I was wrong."

"You're lucky I got out when I did," Kirke replied in his usual monotone. "You only had a weeks worth of antidote left by the time I got back."

"I think it just might be worth it," she almost shouted back, his bland demeanor once again getting under her skin. "Just as long as I get to see your sorry a$$ get what's coming to you."

"You're losing your temper again," he chided, dropping his tone even more toward his 'dangerous' voice. "Control yourself." He could almost hear her teeth grinding over the phone, but she managed to reign it in.

"So what did you want," she finally asked, still ticked but a little more controlled.

"I want you to bring some of the equipment to my location," he said, all buisiness again. "I'm setting up a second base. Sending the address now." There was a moment of silence as the girl read what he had sent.

"But... this is in the Rogue Islands," her voice was apprehensive. "This doesn't have anything to do with those Arachnos guys, right?"

"It's an Arachnos safehouse," he answered calmly.

"Sh*t!" she cursed loudly. "Are you TRYING to get us killed?"

"I'll be waiting," Kirke ignored her question, cutting the call off before she could reply. But for a moment he sat silently, pondering what she'd said. He had his own doubts about getting involved with Arachnos. Kirke had no intention of permenantly joining the organization of course; world domination held no interest for him. He had carefully worked out a plan to use his temporary alliance in a very profitable way. The kid was right though; it was still playing with fire. Kirke's eyes drifted over to the lone tarot card laying near his laptop.

The Hanged Man

The plan seemed perfectly sound, but he himself had said often enough that no plan was perfect. There was always the danger of his imfamous bad luck surfacing and sending everything to hell. Still, it was no use worrying about it now. He had already started and was now committed to seeing it through. Turning to unpack his duffel bag, Kirke did his best to push aside the feeling that he may have bit off more than he could chew.

((Even managed to work in a referance to the Tarot card thing from the dearly departed villain thread from awhile ago. Hee, hee.))

Character Name: The Jabberwok (Mason Fenrick)

Origin Story: Can be found in my sig under Crey Hero Files.

Theme Song(s): I can't remember exactly which ones I gave her before, but here's what I think they were. The Passenger, by Iggy Pop. Counting Bodies Like Sheep, by Perfect Circle.

Why those songs? The Passenger mainly because I like it, but also because it sort of matches Mason's demeanor. Pretty much just going along with whatever happens and not worrying too much about the past or future. Counting Bodies, well that's just a nice action song for the fight scenes. There were others I had, but I decided to narrow it to two for now.

Backstory Posts: Nothing has really been revealed in the posts that can't be found in the Crey profile. There will be a change in her soon, however, that technically started with this post . It's tough since it ties into an entire story arc, but skipping forward to here , probably would suffice.