D.E.A.T.H - The Resurrection

Back From The Dead.

D.E.A.T.H

D- Destroyers.

E- Eliminators

A- Annihilators

T- and Terminators.

H- for Hire.

The Leader.

Born in ancient Kyoto, Japan,

For hundreds of years he has walked this earth.

Learning. Teaching.

Killing.

He is the ultimate machine. He is the peak of human ability. The epitome of epicness.

He is

The Mercenary.

The world's oldest assassin. His weapons expertise is unparalleled. His knowledge is incomprehensibly vast. His cunning unmatched.

With a body that never quits, a mind that never sleeps, and ability that never ceases to amaze, he is infamous for his destructive capability and disregard for life of any sort.

The Formation.

After herding together a group of deadly soldiers-of-fortune over a year ago, the Mercenary's presence concerning the team began to dissipate not weeks after the squad had been created, eventually disappearing altogether, the original operatives of D.E.A.T.H had no choice but to disband and path ways with each other. For a long time, the Lord of Life was absent, no single soul hearing of his whereabouts. Soon, treacherous questions were whispered by the metahuman community, each word tinged with complete disbelief, yet a similar curiosity.

Had the Shinigami met his end?

And then one day, whilst Cain O'Panell sat in Loners Nightclub and sipped gingerly on one of his prized Guinesseses, he felt the gloved hand of his mentor fall upon his shoulder. The Mercenary spoke of his father, and how the man had seemingly returned from the very depths of Hell with only one goal in mind. He would kill his son. The Lord of Life relayed his tale with his signature recklessness, the story plagued by frequent intervals of giggling and chuckles. Needless to say, things went awry and a gang of fluorescently attired assassins stormed the bar and both Cain and his former leader were forced into action, dispatching their enemies in nostalgic unison. The Mercenary spoke of the Resurrection, left Cain to gather up some guns-for-hire, and disappeared, leaving nothing but unjustified cackles in his wake.

The O'Panell legacy recruited Wrecker, a tough killer with a rock solid attitude and an affinity for explosions. He received a call from Rodent, his old team mate slash antagonist slash techie. The weaselly man said that his boss had dropped by, and that he'd had the Fortress sold to the Japanese military. Things were unveiling.

Mattersuit, a villainous figure endowed to the Tenebrasque In, had heard whispers of the team's reformation and set out on an iron-willed quest to find the elusive assassin. After months of relentless searching, he arranged a meeting with the mysterious killer and offered his services immediately. The Mercenary gave him a smirk and a yes.

Once more, things went quiet. Each of the newly recruited members grew suspicious of their unofficial leader. They carried on with their lives, waiting for the day that the man gave the word. As of yet there was no headquarters. No missions. Nothing. But Cain knew. He assured each of the infamous murderers that the boss had something in the works, and they begrudgingly accepted his excuse. Nonetheless, men of such stature did not enjoy being toyed with.

"Vietnam boys. Hide and seek."

The message came through a single month later. Needing no further instruction, the ragtag team of mercenaries went on their way, not yet united by an official squad status, they travelled alone, by their own means. True to each of their reputations, they located the Bunker nestled within the famed South-East-Asian jungle's core not days later. The Mercenary was there, along with another being, a trussed man with wild hair and wilder features. The Lord of Life himself looked a tad battered, his notorious blue and orange costume littered with cuts and tears. It was clear he'd just returned from a battle.

The Mercenary spread his arms wide and smirked beneath his mask.

"Welcome home."

Want somebody terminated?

Find D.E.A.T.H

The Bunker.

A significant shift from D.E.A.T.H's previous headquarters, the Fortress; this base of operations is reasonably smaller in size, and situated above ground, within the confines of the Vietnam jungle in South-East Asia. Not only is this rendition of the team's home more heavily fortified and outfitted with an immense array of both defensive and offensive machinations, in addition; it is no longer as secluded as before, with almost every citizen of the Socialist Republic aware of the mercenary squad's existence. Upon deciding he would build a headquarters here, the Mercenary faced outright rejection from the Asian government but after waving a few nuclear missiles at them they surrendered and allowed the ancient man to proceed with construction.

Although small, with an expansive, if simple, training room with nothing but the bare basics and a firing range, a set of quarters for each member, a conference room, and an communications room tailored by the intellectual Rodent, the Bunker has no decorative features, and a sense of intense discomfort.

"We're killers, not royalty."

The headquarters is fitted with a hangar which stores the team jet, a series of other vehicles, and a containment room which stores ammunition supplies and an assortment of diverse weapons, should any of the squad ever run out, which is doubtful factor, but a necessary one.

For Hire.

The squad's purposes range from simple assassination to the destruction of cities. Should any being ever require their aid, they need only follow the grapevine and contact D.E.A.T.H, either personally or via technological means. Keep in mind that the team's existence is not especially confidential, but are not exactly all over Google either.

Want to give someone a headshot without getting your hands dirty?

We guarantee instant D.E.A.T.H.

OOC

- Anybody can drop by the Bunker. Anybody can attack the Bunker.

- If you want to assault any part of the Bunker, you may attempt so, and one of the operatives will confirm whether or not the attack hits, and defensive measures and whatnot.

- Obviously you aren't allowed to eradicate the Bunker completely.

- No god-modding. No meta-gaming (a thanks to Ms. Dain for that word ;) And please may you sell when you attack us.

- Technically, we can't exactly kill another character unless they agree to it. But we can try, and put the hurt all over them.

RECRUITING

- We will be accepting up to three two more members.

- Candidates must be neutral. (Assassins are preferred)

- Selection is not based off of first come first serve. We will take all of the proposed memberships and discuss who is accepted between ourselves (the current team)

---

I'm still going to edit in the other team members introduction's below "The Leader", so don't take me for a pompous bastard just yet >_>

There will also be other editing besides that, based on what else the team would like and whatever.

Cool.

-

Adam practiced in the training room, striking the nearest punching bag with punches and kicks. He was violence, he was aggression, he was the edge of the knife, the most deadly mercenary to have ever set foot on this planet. He was Mattersuit. His closed fists smashed into the punching bag with deadly force, although if one listened closely, they could hear the rhythm. Right, left, left-left-left right. Each hit wrung a grunt of exertion from his lips. His entire body was coated in sweat, but he showed no signs of fatigue.

The Mercenary walked into the training room with @Sean_Zeraz following closely behind him. He paused upon entering and gestured towards the relentless machine that was Mattersuit. He nodded at the boy, then began to speak.

"That is Mattersuit. He is lethal. I suggest you spar with him sometime."

Before the uncontrollably inquisitive apprentice could ask the question, the Shinigami answered it.

"The chances of your survival are not precisely high, but then again, they don't need to be."

He gave the boy a calculating look, then folded his arms behind his back and tilted his head in the direction of the still mobile figure of the Red Adam.

"Introduce yourself."

Rodent sat at the D.E.A.T.H supercomputer and typed away furiously, his features strained with glee and nerd-like joy.

Hubris practices his advanced target shooting at the range with his mighty longbow named "Eviscerator"

With a smile under his balaclava, The famed Irish Assassin took in the fresh smell that the mercenaries provided to the base, The wonderful smell of blood, gunpowder and taquitos. With several bags of belongings strapped over his shoulder, he entered his new found base, Guns ready as he carefully greeted a fellow operative before placing his bags in a very large, empty room "...Honey I'm Home!"

(The offer stands if you want me.)

He awoke in darkness. Darkness which his eyes could scarcely penetrate. He was bound against a wall of cold steel, dozens of restraints too strong for him to break. His matted hair brushed his shoulders and his coarse beard was pinched against his neck by a mask buckled firmly over his mouth. He began thrashing and screaming in the dark. He wasn't sure who he was this time, but he would find out when he broke free.

@Thorn_: The Right hand man of The Legendary Mercenary's cigarette lit up in the Darkness, Quietly illuminating the darkness as one could hear the faint clicking of metal upon metal, The darkness effectively covered Cain, but one could hear his loud footsteps, and see the small orange glow of flame on the end of his cigarette as he walked around the room

Fabricating an assortment of stylish new gear and gadgetry, using different color schemes as well as overall ambiance so as not to be contested with his other altered state. The Masked visionary fashions his suit with a variety of scanners, trackers, bombs, blips, pellets, sprays, and small hidden bladed weaponry. Then he tests the weight, as he slides his torso into the top section of his armored suit. "Not bad... Not bad at all." the materials the super genus used to craft his unique equipment is very lightweight, and durable to boot.

@Meticulous said:

Fabricating an assortment of stylish new gear and gadgetry, using different color schemes as well as overall ambiance so as not to be contested with his other altered state. The Masked visionary fashions his suit with a variety of scanners, trackers, bombs, blips, pellets, sprays, and small hidden bladed weaponry. Then he tests the weight, as he slides his torso into the top section of his armored suit. "Not bad... Not bad at all." the materials the super genus used to craft his unique equipment is very lightweight, and very durable to boot.

Daaaayyyummm

@shadowknight666: His screaming drowned out the approaching footsteps. His eyes were clamped firmly shut in his fits of rage, only opening for brief and futile glances downward to observe the condition of the unyielding restraints. He didn't notice the wandering ember in the curtain of black.

@shadowknight666:

I like to be prepared. lol

@Thorn_: Cain grasped his ears briefly just as he turned over to Thorn, Getting close as he leaned forward, Raising his hand and sending a slap towards his face, A Very heavy one at that, And placed a single finger on his lips. His Irish Accent was notable as his Balaclava masked face stared him down, Only the image of a skull visible "WOULD'JA SHUT THE F*CK UP!?" He yelled sending the slap, before continuing "Shhhh, Shaddup if y'know what's good for ya'..."

@shadowknight666: He paused as the thick, calloused hand struck his cheek. The man told him to shut up if he knew what was good for him. But there was nothing good for him. Except his freedom. "LET ME OUT!" he howled, pulling with all his might, teeth chomping behind the metal grate of his mask, "LET ME OUT! LET ME OUT! LET ME OUT!"

@Thorn_: Cain let out that sinister, disturbing laugh of his as he looked back at him. He was in a panicked state, completely chained up. This didn't matter to Cain, He had orders and he'd follow them "Ooooh, Sorry there Boyo, Freedom is not allocated like a piece o' candy on Halloween night...It needs to be earned, Gained however cruel and sickening the methods are. I Learned that the hard way." He took a long puff of his cigarette through a slit in his mask briefly, Blowing a ring of smoke in his face "Y'ready to see if yer up to the challenge?"

@shadowknight666: He could feel himself slip away, his eyes drifting shut as he surfaced into clarity. He was Michael. He was a good man. And he had been murdered, murdered by the man who brought him here. He was in no mood for games, but he knew that screaming and thrashing was no solution. "I fought for my country. I bled for my country. I buried my friends. I abandoned my life and spent the last four years alone in the cold for the sake of those around me. I think I've earned my freedom."

@Thorn_: Cain smiled a bit, He had to come off as a sadistic mother f*cker, But more sadistic as to intimidate this man. He smiled carefully nearing the end of his cigarette "Ohhh Boyo, Been there done that meself, Personally though, There's a difference between you and I...What you did made you a hero, They slapped a medal on ya', Patted ya' on the back and threw y'a damn parade. Y'got respect man, but me? The wars I fought back home? No, No Boyo. I Got spit on, Called a terrorist, A Baby killer, An Anarchist...Yet I was fighting for my freedom as well. The things you did, They were war...But what I did...They were crimes." He chuckled a bit, Moving his arms open "Life isn't black and white...It's just grey and progressively darker until it reaches black." He smiled one more time "So Soldier Boy, I Gotta question...Y'like Classical Music?"

@shadowknight666: "You think you're the only one who got called a baby killer? I made the mistake of walking on the UCLA campus during a war protest." he shrugged in his bonds. It was the first time he had actually spoken with somebody, like in actual person, in four years. But it was brief. There were more important matters at hand, and this wasn't somebody he wanted to identify with. "What does classical music have to do with getting me out of here?"

Adam grunted. The machine he strained against was designed to test his strength. Every move he made to strain against it made it apply more pressure to the chains and shackles that bound Adam to the machine. Slowly, a long roar of anger was wrung from his lips as he pulled on the chains. It was applying nearly a full ton of force to the mercenary, but he still held his ground.

@Mattersuit:

The notorious assassin of ages watched his subordinate temper his already formidable body, an amused smirk slapped across the lower portion of his face.

Admirable stuff.

Hubris strokes the hair of his beard as he stares into the reflective surface of his unlit draft-table, looking over his meticulously detailed map's and blue prints. "Fascinating." he mutters to himself as his hand reaches across the table, and flips the power switch from off to on.

CLICK. BZZZZZZZZ.

@Thorn_ said:

@shadowknight666: "You think you're the only one who got called a baby killer? I made the mistake of walking on the UCLA campus during a war protest." he shrugged in his bonds. It was the first time he had actually spoken with somebody, like in actual person, in four years. But it was brief. There were more important matters at hand, and this wasn't somebody he wanted to identify with. "What does classical music have to do with getting me out of here?"

Cain grinned as he circled the room, Still keeping his ominous composure "Oh F*ck Liberals...Stupid goddamn hippies. F*ck them." He then quickly laced his hands over a shape in the darkness, Carefully tapping the top of it "Oh? I Was just wonderin' what music station y'd like to be tortured to?...See, Merc gave me strict orders, You WILL Accept this, there is NO Means of escape or hope. So I'm hear to enforce that, Break yer will and maybe a few bones..."

"Am I your anything?" Hubris asks himself as he stares deep into the darkness, in search of his queen. His head is throbbing from the glow of the melting walls of his mind, memories past coming back to haunt him. He loses his sh*t for a moment and punches the wall beside himself cracking the concrete like it was made of nothing at all. "What is this demon inside of me?" his mind searches for answers to questions he must know, he feels that maybe a dark quickening or two may have happened in his days leading to now. "Are these thoughts even my own?"

@Meticulous: (At a different time)

Cain was awoken from his usual three hour nap during the night to hear Hubris, one of the recruits brought in cause a bit of damage to the wall. Cain stood up, in his usual street clothes and put on his good golf hat, And walked over to see Hubris having a meltdown. He was talking to himself, Going into a bout of almost insanity to Cain. He smirked, Leaning in the doorway "Voices in yer head again?"

@shadowknight666:

Hubris was standing in his room with his fist pounded deep into the concrete wall beside himself, he has his other hand clasping his expressionless face mask in a manic gesture. "Again?... Always!" The masked mastermind plays the part of the torn psychopath flawlessly, thirty-seven years as a psychologist for the government pays off. "Sorry if I woke you brother in arms." he says as he turns his head ever so slowly towards Cain, his eyes are wide open in a crazed manor.

@Meticulous: Cain grinned for a moment, His first order since getting her was to torture a fellow comrade so he was desensitized, Did Cain utterly believe every single word of Hubris's performance? Yes, Did he take it seriously? No "Ha!...I Used ta' have a voice in my head...And Don' mention

@shadowknight666:

Hubris flicks his hand with enough speed that he could kill seven normal men in three seconds, as he launches four dart sized knives at the door frame beside Cains head on each side so that they form a perfect square. Two are left of his head one above the other, and two are right of his head one above the other. It is his intention to test his new comrades reflexes... To see if he is always ready for anything, or if he scares easy?

@shadowknight666: "Do whatever the hell you want. None of it'll matter for more than a minute. But if you're gonna play it like that... I'd like some Muzak. If you're gonna torture me, might as well torture you right back."

@Thorn_: "I Have methods, Proven methods of breaking you...And...BOY! Are you going to be in pain for that!" Cain said smiling as he placed it on the appropriate station. He ran up to Michael, Carefully pushing the lit cigarette into his exposed chest.

@Meticulous: Cain smirked. He was the personification of marksmanship as he manipulated time in his hands, Or at least his perception. To him those knives were like frisbees flying, Yes they were fast, But still not unhittable as the Malicious Marksman removed his CZ75s and placed a bullet in each of the knives. Cain let out a puff of breath to put out a column of smoke coming out of the barrels "Easy with the knives buddy..."

@shadowknight666: "You'll have to do a little worse than my bunk mate in boot camp." Michael groaned, irritated.

@shadowknight666:

"Just wanted to get a feel for who was watching my arse... Feel me?" the masked manic smirks back. "But you really should have not shot those knives." Hubris says as he puts a gas mask over his face. The bullet wounds on the knives had cracked the nerve gas capsules he had fabricated within them for just such an event. The room fills with a thick green smoke. "No worries buddy, I have the antidote in my utility-belt." he quickly grabs a fast acting inhalation device with a counteractive drug built within it, and he throws it to Cain.

@Meticulous: Cain noticed a rather...Uncomfortable feeling. He clutched his neck as his face began turning a wide variety of colors, He was choking. He gleefully accepted the antidote, Huffing a puff of gas back into his lungs "JESUS CHRIST!...We gotta damn batman on er' hands here."

@Thorn_: Cain smiled, Revealing his long shiny Bowie Knife, Carefully waving it around Michael's skin for a moment "Ooooh Boy, How does a Glagscow Smile sound?"

@shadowknight666: "Take off the mask and find out." he said coldly, tilting his head as much as he could to reveal the heavy buckles, all the while keeping his eyes trained on the Irishman.

@shadowknight666: "King Kong ain't got sh*t on me!" Hubris says as he then laughs like a maniac and pats Cain on the back.

The Mercenary sat calmly on his haunches in the centre of the expansive if gritty training room, semi-naked with a pair of long blue jeans and his infamous blue and orange mask, loose threads from the rear dangling lightly over his broad shoulders. In one scarred hand he gripped a large razor, glinting menacingly in the brightly lit area. He hummed a tune, Raised By Wolves, and occasionally whispered words to himself.

"Here we go," the group of conjoined syllables had barely made it from his throat when he stretched out his free arm and in one fluid motion hacked through his wrist, watching his hand slip off and flop onto the floor with an eerily serene disposition.

The severed limb instantly began to squirm, the jagged bits of flesh encircling the wound immediately wrapping around each other, a mess of animated cells, multiplying exponentially, simultaneously creating a new hand.

Not thirty seconds later, the process was complete. He flexed his fingers, curled them into a fist, uncurled them, and clicked.

"Again," and he reached over with his razor, and let it bite down on his arm.

Adam looked over towards the Mercenary as he continued to strain under his chains. He was growling. "Well...I'll...be damned." He grunted, pulling ever harder.

@Mattersuit:

After four hours of relentless self-harm, the assassin of ages rose to his feet, stretched for a moment, let out a yawn and then gathered all of the useless pieces of his body that he'd dismembered over the past day. He turned towards the still self-conditioning Mattersuit and tilted his head playfully, smirking characteristically beneath his daunting mask.

"I got a dog the other day. Just collecting some food for the fellow."

He turned away from the silver-haired man and began to scoop all of the limbs into a duffel bag he'd brought along with him, humming amiably as if it all were perfectly ordinary.

@The_Mercenary: Adam stopped pulling and undid the shackles, dropping the chains with a clang. "Well alright then." He shrugged. "So, how's our squad looking? What kind of firepower we rolling with?"

@Mattersuit:

He paused mid-way through dropping a foot into the duffel bag, raising his head and staring into the distance thoughtfully.

"We got Cain. He's the sharpshooter, marksman type. Probably the best shot we got on the team, with split-second reflexes," he let the foot slide into the heavy sack, bending over and grabbing another limb from the floor. "Then there's Hubris. A relative psycho, a man after my own heart. Got weapons on his weapons. A typical Plan-B sort of guy."

He stopped staring and glanced at the sweat-clad Mattersuit, regarding him for a moment.

"We got you, a good ol' steam-train. A rough and tough motherfucker with some pretty hair," he chuckled forcefully, almost dropping the object in his palm. He regained his composure after a moment more of laughter and continued, "Then there's the Other. Or, as I like to call the monstrous thing; Thorn. He's a bit of a loose-cannon. And by loose-cannon I mean he'd bring this whole place down on our heads without so much as a second of free-reign. That's why he's strapped up down under, in what I like to call the Dungeon." A sadistic twinkle entered his eyes as he recalled the events leading up to the reformation of D.E.A.T.H, which included a brutal brawl with Michael Horton that ended only when the Mercenary gave him a broadsword to the face. And even then, he'd recovered from the blow in less than fifteen minutes.

"Wrecker. A gun-for-hire with good taste in explosives and an affinity for generally beating the shit out of folks."

He paused once more and turned his head towards Mattersuit, a mischievous look in his eyes. "And then there's little old me."

@The_Mercenary: He laughed. "Thanks. You won't believe the amount I spend to keep my hair so nice. I have like, three hairdressers." He looked inside the bag, not bothered by the stench of death. "As in, their only job is to look after my hair. They can get blood out of a perfect hair do and have you ready for a ball in twenty minutes."

@Mattersuit:

"I was never one for hair. Primarily because I can't actually grow any, but besides that, it just looks like it gets in the way," he zipped up the bag and slung it over one of his shoulders, the marred skin rippling with the muscle movement. "I mean sure, I've used wigs whilst disguised, and even then, I couldn't stand the stuff."

@The_Mercenary: Adam ran a hand through his silver locks. "It's about the atmosphere. Honestly, if I'm in the middle of a war, and laughing like a maniac, I want to be able to do an awesome slow-motion hair flick." He grinned.

@Mattersuit:

"I've got to try that some day. Definitely," the Mercenary giggled profusely then got to his knees and drew in a large breath before letting out a thunderous whistle, lasting for a good five seconds. Moments later, heavy footsteps began to rebound off of the corridor outside of the Chamber of D.E.A.T.H (official moniker for the training room) and the door slid open automatically to let a monstrous creature through, growling viciously as it lumbered onwards, each muscle beneath it's skin coiling and uncoiling menacingly, playing out across it's skin like a puddle of disturbed water, every movement sending ripples through it's white, spotted frame. The Mercenary smirked amiably beneath his mask and launched the duffel bag up into the air with a reckless sense of strength, only to have the item be snatched out of the air brutally by the abnormally sized hyena, who landed in a feral skid and instantaneously began to tear into the bag of human body parts.

The Mercenary straightened up and folded his arms proudly across his chest, watching his pet happily.

"I call her Kitten."

@The_Mercenary: He instantly dropped into a defensive stance. "That's a hyena." He said, slowly relaxing. "Hyenas are vicious." He remarked.

@Mattersuit:

The Mercenary shot him a venomous look and pointed a disfigured finger at the carnivorous mass of fur. "You think I'd bring her into my home if she wasn't? Of course she's vicious! Isn't it beautiful." He returned his gaze to the growling creature, giving the tensed Mattersuit a heavy pat on the back before striding towards the monster with an unnerving calm and a hum. He neared the hyena, knelt beside it, and whispered some words to it. It ignored him for a moment, then slowly stopped eating and gave him an indiscernible look. Then it bore it's teeth at him for a moment, and nuzzled him playfully in the crook of his neck. He giggled and rubbed it vigorously behind the ear before straightening up once more and leaving it to it's gruesome feast. He winked at Adam, "She's not all bad."

@The_Mercenary: Adam smirked. "I'll bet that's the closest you've ever got to anything that's female."

@Mattersuit:

The assassin of ages broke out into a series of chuckles, perhaps too many. "Negative. I came out of a vagina once."

@The_Mercenary:"Well played." He grinned.