Tart

[Mind if I drop on by? I will be using an AR/Therm Corrupter.]

This ship is vetry nice, to be sure. Definantly high class clients on here. And I thought Stella was all washed up, can't imagine how she got hold of tickets like these. Don't really want to either.

A soft, yet robotic, female voice interrupted Reaga's thoughts. Sir, I would suggest you work on making some new contacts for when this ship docks, wherever that may be.

"Yes, thank you Amy."

It's A.M.E.S, sir. Armored Military Exo-Suit.

"Well, I need to cal you somethiing. It's been what, six weeks since I found you in in that compound? Besides, Ames is no such name for something as human as you. Amy is much more fitting."

But I'm not human sir. I am a synthesized artificial intelligence programmed to obey most human commands.

"Yes, well, I took care of those inhibitors a while ago."

You did indeed sir.

Reaga did not know much about programming. If something called for it, he woiuld generally kidnap someone from Crey or Arachnos to do it for him, before he ransomed them off to someone else or shot them. His new outfit allowede for many more freedoms now than he had in black ops. His weapon was the greatest he had ever seen. An internal mini fission/fussion reactor based off Rikti tech provided for plasma rounds. Amy's own systems coujld manipulate those rounds into whatever Reaga felt like, be it sniper, assault rifle, or flamethrower. He had been the best rfile man money could buy after his discharge. Now he was his own army.

*To be continued*

I have been having this idea for an RP for a while now. Single's Night at Pocket D, a place where supers both good and bad, can relax and maybe find an interesting new friend. Combat is possible in the arena, but please folks, abide by RP etiquette, meaning no god mode, auto hits, etc... Also, please keep any funny business PG-13 rated, I don't want my first RP to be shot down in flames. I may not post very often, so heads up to you all. By all means, let the posts begin!

[OOC: Since it seems we are low on villains, I might suggest others double up. If not, is it alright with everyone else if I attempted such a feat?]

[ QUOTE ]
Bullets hit, flame seared, darkness did whatever darkness did. The radiant White Masque took it all in. "Can I have seconds?" He asked gleefully. There wasn't a single mark or wound on him, flattened bullets clattering to the ground all around him. White Masque turned and spotted the Grave Knights coming closer.

"YAY!!!!!!! SWORD FIGHT " He yelled, leaping at them, bringing his icy sword crashing down on the nearest.

[/ QUOTE ]

Mortanis was impressed by his opponent's resilience to harm. Resilience to the point of...invincibility. It seemed. However, he knew everyone, man or woman, super or single-celled, had a weakness. It simply took time to discover his.

He may be a bit more than we bargained for, eh Jonas? Perhaps our purpose should be better left to finding those lost heroes. However, your outfit and physical features do not seem hero friendly. Also, this one may return to his comrades. What to do, what to do?

Mortanis used his necromantic prowess to envelope himself in a minor cloaking field. If it didn't serve it's purpose as a disguise, it would aid him in combat as his form seemed to shimmer and move, almost as if it wasn't really there. He distanced himself from the battle, slinking to the now collapsed facility. His minions were expendable, he had lost so many before. They served his whims without question or hesitation, without the morality of man. They fought without fear of pain or death and in so doing they were held in his highest regard.

While searching the rubble of the compound, Mortanis found a hole. A very big hole indeed, one which seemed too large to have been created form the building's destruction. He had not found any trace of blood, giving him the conclusion they had escaped. Since he had not seen any movement after the collapse, he could only conclude they must have fled to...wherever it lead to.

Mortanis landed in a thin stream of green fluid. He immediately levitated himself out.

If there is one thing I hate more than Paragon, it's her sewers.

[Me and mine are... displeased by Bwerp's outburst. There shall be pain, flames, and lazers to prove my wrath.]

[OOC: If need be, Mortanis can be the new "super bad dude" for you'll to fight. He wants you dead. Simple, right?]

o_0? [hmmm. This will require some thought.]

[OOC: Mortanis is outside beating the #$@* out of an apparent decoy, but he does not know it yet.]

[ QUOTE ]
"Pshaw, dying is a slap on the wrist." White Masque said easily in response. "And you need to cool it." He pointed his blade at the Damned and a bolt of ice shot at him.

[/ QUOTE ]

Mortanis leapt from the rooftop, slowing his descent until he remained a few inches off the ground. His undead crawled out of the shadows, forming a line between him and the ice-flinging assailant. "If you believe that to be true, hero, then you have not died before. Let me teach you how to now."

He didn't care about his temporary allegiance to the gang, it was only to get to his goal. The ends justify the means. To eliminate the stronghold and it's occupants, that was his priority. All else was devoted to achieving it.

The Damned took the hit, probably to show off to the newer recruits. Not to say it didn't hurt, which only fueled his rage. Soon, bullets and fire sprayed to the white one holding the sword. Back by Mortanis, wave upon wave of negative energy was thrust towards the individual while the 'meat shields' and useful grave knights closed the distance between them.

There was no better way to describe the events which unfolded than a 'fiasco'. A mastermind usually copes with the knowledge that not all his plans will be perfect, and changes will occur, but this... this was simply inconceivable. Out of the seven heroes in there, only one emerged before the building tumbled. Not that Mortanis wasn't glad to see the home of Faultline's finest crumble, but there was the matter of his commission. Well, there goes my deal with the Hellions. On the other hand, it should be an easy task to find necessary bits and/or pieces to receive my pay. But first to matters at hand, this hero needs his welcoming gift.

Mortanis tossed down a rock to where the Hellions where hiding, giving them the signal that there was only 1 left. Despite being shaken and confused by the demolition, the eager thought of taking down a super warmed the gang's resolve.

The 13 individuals revealed themselves, each staring with contempt at there enemy. The leader's hands, then arms, began to illuminate with nature's purest creation.

"Time to die, hero!"

[OOC: Bwerp, have fun]

Amid the bustle of everyday sounds in Faultline, the cars, the phones, the people, a lady begins to scream...

"Help! Help! Somebody please! They took my purse!"

Several young men, covered in orange clothing lined with flames, run through the busy sidewalk. Outpacing the woman, but not using their full potential, the men make sure to run past the known hero hotspot. They have their orders, after all.

Mortanis watched the scene unfold on a rooftop overlooking the street. Around the corner of the building waited the full force of the Hellion gang, complete with machine guns, shotguns, knives, mauls, and bats. And of course, the supernatural flame thrower of a man leading the pack. Mortanis began to call forth his own minions from the Netherworld, strengthening them with his own darkness. He wanted to get his hands on just one of those do-gooders so bad...

He muttered to himself "Two sides of the same coin; Alpha and Omega; good and evil. Time to see which is stronger."

Mortanis found what he was looking for a couple of blocks from the hero base. Nearly a dozen Hellions bunched in an alleyway around several flaming barrels, lighters, cards, and cigarettes littering the floor. All eyes turned to him, glints of steel and flashes of pistols bouncing off the dim light. Most backed down as a big fellow walked up to Mortanis. He was over 6 feet, and shaped like a football player. Flames engulfed his hands, now fists, and as he raised them he spoke "Give me one reason why I shudn't squish you right now, little man."

Mortanis's eyes, usually cat-like and yellow, began to spout flames of their own, but green. "Because, my good man, I can get you what you want."

The Hellion lowered his fists slightly.

"And what iz it I want?"

Mortanis called his elite into the material realm, the lich's own height equal to the Hellion's. "You want to take out those heroes at the base. I know how. All you have to do is get two of your boys to start a little ruckus. Mugging, purse snatching, whatever. They come out, you and I move in, and you get a new place to crash instead of this lovely alley."

The Hellion pulled out a large cigar and lit it with his finger, the smoke clouding his already dirty face. He kept his eyes on the undead but spoke to Mortanis "How do I know ya won't scram when it gets hot?"

Mortanis pulled out some bills."This is for your agreement. When the job's done, you get 60% get whatever you find there, and keep half of this. The other half I will want back."

With a deep chuckle the Hellion grabbed Mortanis's hand and shook. He turned to his crew.

"Boys, grab your gear. We gonna eat well tonight!"

Mortanis swore under his breath while they discussed tactics. If they moved in turtle formation, there was no way his undead would reach those weakest to them. The tankers would beat them like a sock full of pennies. Another thing which worried him was this Masque character. The binoculars picked him up fine, but to the insects, he was invisible. Very hard to track if he goes solo

Mortanis was now certain there was someone else there, one not-so-hero-friendly. You survive two years in the Zig without learning a few things, and the brief ghosts he saw on the feeds were more than a hunch. Now the game of chess became timed.

Are they after the heroes too? If so, I will lose my commission and reputation. If not, why are they there? Can they be considered for an alliance for a small cut of the profit? If so, will they betray me?

As he was about to give up on questions, an idea popped up in his cranium. He smiled at the possibility. Temporarily abandoning his post, Mortanis entered the streets of Faultline. He was certain there would be some Hellions around somewhere.

The victory of the heroes over the spiders posed a problem to Mortanis; it was possible they wouldn't leave. He counted...7 of them down there, and he wasn't willing to walk over and ask nicely for them to die. His patience was running out.

The images from his robotic friends were good. So good in fact he thought he saw... no, perhaps not.

[ QUOTE ]
He then pushed his shades back up his nose and said to Techblaze, "Lets get everyone we can out of here before this all gets worse"...

[/ QUOTE ]

"...and get worse it shall." Mortanis prepared himself for what was to be done. He began to pack up the few technical doo-dads he had, keeping the feeds with his sentries open. He did not enjoy killing, albeit with a few exceptions, but killing was required for his line of work. Ever since his rebirth, Mortanis had an ever-growing loathing for Paragon and her heroes. Now, each one was an affront to his existence. Ordinary people like you believed they were doing the public a favor when they locked me up. They thought only of the common good, so without question I was 'disposed of' like some animal. My experiments, my work,...all lost.

Despite the aggressive feelings welling up inside him, Mortanis knew he needed only to wait for them to make their move. To abandon such a stronghold, especially with a wounded member, could lead to undesired consequences...

Down at the hero base, amid the clutter from the recent skirmish, several flies wandered into the complex. One settled in a corner near the ceiling, one kept watch on the monitor screens, and the last flew lazily around the room. Feeds from all three were transmitted back to Mortanis. He saw what they saw, heard what they heard. He was particularly interested in what happened to the one they kept calling 'Techtro'.

Mortanis was amazed at the recent turn of events. As the continual stream of soldiers began to sputter out, something... something seemed odd. The heroes who had been excelling at teamwork seemed distracted. Time to see what these babies can do. He opened the vial containing the roboflies, the three small mechanoids spinning in circles through the air.

"Scout out the base. Keep tabs on the heroes, but try to remain inconspicuous. Confirm directive?"

" Directive confirmed. Beginning reconnaissance."

Mortanis watched the flies descend to the battle. He picked up the binoculars and settled into a comfortable position.

Hopefully this will yield some results.

(Thanks a bunch. I appreciate it very much.)

Mortanis chuckled as he watched the ...6... he was hired to slay trash the Tarantulas. He wondered why Arachnos even bothered spending such capital on worthless machines. Well, maybe not so worthless...

These people, they were good. He would give them that much. Mortanis desired a closer view, but he was not yet ready to risk his exposure. Instead, he made a call to the Marshal at HQ.

"Marshall, I am in need of several nanofly scouts. Yes, the ones which can monitor and record. Yes, I realize they are quite expensive. Look, you wanted me to do the job. This is what I need to do it." Amid several vulgar and profane comments Mortanis replied "Always a pleasure" and hung up the phone. He shielded himself with the darkness he could create to bend the light, and flew as fast as possible to the base. Three fly sized robots awaited him there.

The Marshall had apparently been watching the battle too, for his color had gone to a deep magenta of rage. "This will come out of your check you know." Mortanis grabbed the vial and returned to his hideout.

I wonder if they can help me find him.

(Just to confirm, am I in or out? I didn't see the message until I was finished with the intro. Either way, looks interesting. Hope you guys/gals have fun.)

(Hey all! I'll be writing for a dark/dark Mastermind named Mortanis [pronounced More-TAN-is] He used to live and work in Paragon until events unfolded to lead to his incarceration. He was rescued and fled to the Isles where he has been ever since. More about his past can be found at the Blakmoore RP. He has become cold, calculating, and has utter contempt for those who call themselves "Heroes". He can summon help from the Netherworld if it is needed, or simply drain the life from those he touches. He does however have his own code of villain ethics. A pic can be found at the bottom of my post.)

Mortanis received a call from high up telling him to move himself over to Faultline. Personally, he could care less where he went as long as he was paid his dues. Of course there were always exceptions...

The local Marshall from Arachnos escorted him to the 'war room' once he was off the Flyer. A large digital map of the district, complete with markings on several buildings, covered the main table. Mortanis glanced down at what seemed to be a scuffle outside the Hero facility.

The Marshal was growing exponentially displeased as each Tarantula fell, to the point when his face was beet red. He turned and growled to Mortanis "Lord Recluse wants this place cleared of super activity ASAP. Something about his grand scheme. I have been throwing everything in my budget against this whelps and nothing cuts it. That's why I've contacted you." He had calmed a little during his speech. Mortanis on the other hand looked amused.

"So Marshall, despite my detailed record containing countless times when I have been hired by a third party to deal with some of your men, you are willing to trust me with this?" Mortanis smiled a toothy grin, the marble white points contrasting with the dark feline face.

"I don't trust you one inch, and that makes you reliable. You want money, I want something done. This record says alot of things you know. Like an incident almost 4 years before.."

Mortanis immediately turned and left the room. He still could not be faced with the details of his transformation, his transcendence from humanity. Four years...

Mortanis made his way towards the base, on foot and in the air, as subtly as he could. There was no need to attract unwanted attention before his test. He set himself up in a condemned structure close by, and pulled out a fancy set of binoculars he snatched while at the HQ. Thermal, x-ray, zoom. Very handy. Oh, and they come with a listening device! How thoughtful.

Mortanis listened, and saw, and waited.

(over 100 views and one other comment? It's getting awfully lonely in here...)

(After a brief period of trouble involving my account, I am back! It's good to write again.)

http://boards.cityofvillains.com/showfla...e=0#Post9940311

Story about my villain meeting my hero.

[ QUOTE ]
'Mark my words, the only reason you live is because they will it that you live. The moment you turn on them, the moment we part ways, the moment they forget about you-I will act.' But aloud, White Masque spoke in his normal high-flown angelic voice, which sounded quite pleasant to the ears when one recalled it.

"Well, it seems we are to be companions for a time. I know we didn't exactly get off on the right foot, but why not let bygones be bygones?" Reaga felt very light, and felt the worries and burdens of the world fade away as White Masque's empathetic aura surrounded him.

[/ QUOTE ]

As best he could, Reaga tried to think back at Masque. He didn't know if it would work, but he tried anyway.

Well, my newfound ally, when that time comes I will happily watch as the Fortunas feast upon your essence.

He removed his helmet, small clicks and gushes of air emanating from the base. What the others saw was a man in his late 30's with dark eyes, dirty blond hair, and a scar running down the left side of his cheek. He was ready for a possible ambush, it wouldn't surprise him. They outnumbered him 5 to 2.

"Look, I don't like any of you and I know he doesn't like me," he thumbed toward Masque, "but whatever wrecked your city will probably move to the Isles when it's done here. And that makes it my problem too, so for the moment it seems we are to be allies. My name is Reaga. And the rest of you are...?"

Reaga you dolt! Put the gun down!

Reaga quickly placed his rifle in the compartment on his back. Some more clicking and the gun was safely locked in place.

Thanks. I am working on Part 2, but with gobbs of schoolwork it may take some time.

To anyone who has read this, please post any comments or suggestions that you have. All are appreciated!