Nope, torture + torture doesn't equal not torture. I just want Blake to kick her in the face :S
New Orleans (CVnU)
"Uh. Sid....you sure we should be walking around here like this?"
"But it's new Orleans!" A girlish voice exclaims
"You know, I can tell you haven't been here before..." The Armored, but without helmet now body guard begins, as he watches over the young but expert hacker girl. "There are some nice parts here, but you go out just a little bit. Specially over by iberville? Heard nasty things about this place. Just...come on..."
Small as the 17 year old girl was, she caused big trouble for big people by hacking people's phones and getting data on them. With her sort of "vigilante" ways of exposing corruption and wrong doings, it made her a sort of target for higher up people, and this little group had many who Elliot watched over, and saw to that they wouldn't die. His eyes were cautious, and he was ever alert as he looked around this semi run down area, seeing the graphiti everywhere. The rather loose amount of people around. It began to rain, and annoyed Sidney, as elliot pulled out an umbrella for her. "Come on." Elliot said. "Bout time we head home...."
Sgt Duke Nukes Steps out the cruiser, the car recording as he walked up and down the scene. After reading Mx's report which was a live feed on the cruisers display screen. Looking down at girl shaking his head at the waste of a life, at such a young age. That's just life now a days though in any city, Duke knowing survival of fittest too well. He walks back to the car, confirming what the machine had already entered in his own report. These machines are going to be the end of us all... he thinks to himself. He waits for Trickshot to come back to the car doing his own analysis of the scene.
This is my home.... this city, thick with bloody myths and an even bloodier history, the Big Easy. Most see it as a piece of culture unlike any other, a beautiful vacation, a land of intrigue and merriment.
But when the night falls upon my home, when "most" would be sleeping ever comfortably in their beds, there is a second face that shows. When the dark conquers the light, my home's underbelly reveals itself. Crime has been moving down here from all corners of the states, Gothic mostly, since their classic dens have started becoming crowded with the twisted and the righteous.
My home has a newfound sickness, an infection, one that I thought I'd live to avoid... but people like me, with such bloodlines and histories, we have trouble escaping this. I suppose you could call that fate, or just dumb luck, I've seen quite a bit of both.
Regardless of the reasons these new thugs had for moving in, they still made a big mistake... thinking that they were safe in the night just because they weren't in Gothic anymore. The Big Easy may be a lot of things, but it isn't a haven for those who are too spineless to face a dark vengeance for their actions. And I'm going to make sure they and anyone else who shows up learn that.
This is my home, and I plan on keeping it that way.
Another Knightfall!!
The Big Easy is in pain tonight, wounded by unwanted visitors...
I've been tracking a new crew in my neck of the woods- like most, they seemed to have come down from Gothic, but unlike the others the organization is all different. I kept catalog of the more public villains groups within the city of night, and this crew doesn't match anything in the database as far as attire, weaponry, and other calling cards go. They seem to be rallying the criminal rejects that have been moving in under a new banner, as I've identified over a dozen low level members of the group as small-time Gothic thugs. Their ways of going about things, their employer, and their superhuman firepower are all new to N'Orleans, however.
They seem to be paying homage to the portrayals of gangsters in older crime films, all sporting cliche Mafia suits and Tommy-Guns, as well as riding in classical cars.
From what little I've managed to dig up and find on their boss, he's a short and plump man with a love of class- flashy, but he isn't dumb. He's taken care to conceal himself from any angle whenever he's shown himself in public; an umbrella, tinted windows keeping him in the dark within his personal vehicle, he's even used his own cigar smoke to hide himself once.
However, I'm not as worried about the clever boss as I am about his pet. This superhuman juggernaut, despite taking no care to conceal his features when he shows up, has yet to be identified either by myself or the police. He stands at 7ft, I've estimated him to weigh over 600lbs (a defect from whatever mutation he has, seeing as he seems perfectly fit on the outside), and has been confirmed to be able to lift several tons. The most intriguing detail about his appearance is his oddly shaped cranium, which I assume is due to a metal place, likely needed from some past injury.
These overdressed thugs have been going on a crime spree throughout the Big Easy, taking a few days breaks in between robbery and vandalism. Thankfully, due to their sloppy behavior I managed to find a pattern... they'll be striking again tonight, and I'll be waiting for them.
New Orleans, Art District
"Sirs, sirs! I am sure we can work something out...!?" A frightened but steady cook said as he was lined up against a wall next to his other employees, two guns watching them intently, just waiting for a reason to shoot. Stepping up just behind the two gunners was a titan of a man, dressed as spiffy as ever, with a big grin on his face. "Of course we can, my good gentlemen- that was actually the reason we came! We'd like to offer you all a business arrangement you can't refuse!"
The superhuman thug was surprisingly polite and charismatic as he went about his deal, walking over the front window and flipping the open sign to "close". In that moment he stepped right into the line of sign of Big Easy's Shadow, assessing the situation through binoculars from a distance. "The big one will make this difficult... one car, just a four-seater, meaning he could have one other gang member with him in there. Easy." With that last thought, the softspoken Knightfall set his binoculars down and leaped off his perch.
"-so ya see, by investing in Alfredsson Security, you will avoid the fate that your competitors faced just last week! Perhaps we should talk about this over dinner?" The titan didn't wait for an answer as he pushed the cook towards the kitchen, nodding at a gunner to follow him, turning back to his employees with the same grin, leading them to a table. He must of been hungry for high cuisine. The cook led the gunner to the backroom, nervously gathering materials for a pasta as the giddy gangster poked him with the barrel of his Tommy-Gun... but the poking eventually stopped.
Slowly turning around, the poor Cook nearly jumped back into the shelves when he was met with a menacing vigilante, standing over the unconscious gunner. Instinctively placing his hand over the cook's mouth, Abel shhh'd him until he stopped trying to yell and scream. "Get out through the back entrance, I'll get the others."Without so much of a though the Cook darted out as quietly as he could. Nodding, Big Easy's Knightfall thought over his next move.
"Oh, you have a daughter? I'm sure she's just precious." The monster mobster said as he took a sip from a flask, his grin turning into a grimace as he visually wondered where his food was when suddenly, his second gunner was pulled across the room, smashing through chairs and tables for sliding to a stop. Eyes following the trail of destruction as he stood up, the titan smirked as he found a costumed hero removing his grappling hook from the gunner's shoulder, eyeing him down and letting his would-be "investors" escape all at the same time.
"Well well well! I didn't think the Shadow would be visiting us this early in the day. Thought you'd be more of a night owl." Abel didn't respond, he was too busy trying to figure out how he was going to bring this giant down... his palm tasers might work if he can get clone enough to an extremity, or that presumably metal skull of his, but this guy easily had a arms-length advantage on him, he'd be able to throw three or four swings before Abel could get clone enough to land a good hit.
"Alright, don't talk then, will make my job easier." The giant spoke with a returning grin, cracking his knuckles and neck as he prepared to battle the tiny hero. "Since I already know who you are, I'll give ya even ground and tell ya who I am! My name's Mickey, and I'm gonna be the cause of death list on ya tombstone!"
In the comfort of his study, Shawn, a consummate virtuoso of the Savage family, calmed his spirit by sucking on the end of a lit Cuban cigar, beige in shade, Montecristo No. 2 in brand. The scent of premier cigar smoke, rich and intoxicating, hung in the air with the prominence of a force of nature. Tossing aside the match he'd used to light his cigar, the flick of his wrist was one that channeled the gestures of a man whose foundation had been rocked, and his ire roused. The Shogun had sent her mercenaries, and he'd slain them with the cold, psychopathic focus that'd awarded him respect in the scientific community. That an attempt on his life had been made was not what ruffled him. It wasn't what turned this man of self-possession into one who grows hot under the collar.
It was why the Shogun had branded him a target. The rationale responsible for her choice. That she felt because of his quantum brain, he was no thinker but a calculator. That he couldn't possibly claim subjective experiences. That she believed him to be an 'it'. It bothered him. And his countenance, dark and dashing, wore an expression, one that told of just how much the Shogun's reasoning bothered him. Not because he felt there was any truth to her claims, but because she dared declare him something he was not. To have the nature of his existence questioned, to be told that his sense of individuality was a sham, that he had no metaphysical self... 'Who the f*** does this b**** think she is?', his mind echoed, his features wincing then, his indignation made clearer than day.
His thoughts told him, insisted on the reality that still, in this day and age of discovery and innovation, man had yet to explain without flaw what founds consciousness. Breathing a cloud of gray smoke, Shawn dialed a number on his cellphone, Adam's. "Adam, listen, old sport, I need you to come see me asap. Its something of an emergency", said the indignant savant. 'I'll need someone there with me when I read the Shogun her last rights in Latin'.
@adam_savage: (Yeah, after the trip)
"Its good to see you too, Adam", Shawn responded, a smile of cool affability curling on his visage. Closing the door behind them, the Savage family's resident enigma strode forward, a savant's swagger dripping from his every step as he gestured for Adam to follow behind him. "I know I've always been more distant than the others, always obsessing over my work, searching for this generation's great scientific discovery. Its part of what soured my marriage to Becka", he remarked, one hand slid into his pocket, the other holding his cigar, the Montecristo No. 2, in between his index finger and thumb as he sucked on its end, and breathed a cloud of rich smoke that seemed to soothe the pain of his separation from Becka, and tame the indignation lit by the Shogun's claims.
"But I'm making a greater effort now", he resumed, striding into a spacious living room, beautified by upscale decor, red-velvet covered chairs and sofas, twinkling chandeliers that hung from the ceiling above, works of art from the European Renaissance on the walls, and marble tables here and there. "When I read your letter, I didn't think twice about going to watch you give your speech. Cousins are not unlike brothers, Adam. So before I tell you about why I called you here, I just want you to know, I do love you all. I might not say it often enough, perhaps that adds more value to my words", he quipped, his natural wit hanging at the tips of a subtle smirk, "But really, I'd go to the end of the world and back for you and the others. I don't have to be on ecstasy to tell you that".
Retiring to a chair while gesturing that Adam seat himself on the across him, Shawn snuffed his cigar, and his lips welcomed a sigh. His features were held in earnest then, his hazel eyes casting a darkened gaze as he met Adam's. Leaning forward, forearms atop his thighs, Shawn began, "Two days ago, I was visited by some gentlemen. Oh.. why sugarcoat it... they were mercenaries, Adam. Sent to take my life by the order of Venezuela's Shogun, a mutant supremacist with a messiah complex", he paused, his voice echoing with bits of his ire, of his annoyance, while his features scowled and winced in irritation, in indignation. "An attempt on my life, that's nothing new. Not at all. I've mounted many a would-be assassin's head on my wall. That someone came after me.. that doesn't bother me".
"Its the reason, Adam. The reason why they were sent after me. That's what bothers me. And not a lot does. I can smirk and shrug my shoulders at a lot of things, Adam, a lot of things. The media's called me cocky for it, but I'm just self-assured. I'm nonchalant, imperturbable, contemplative, self-possessed. Yeah, I'm all of those things. And I play it cool. I play it cool, Adam but I do get hot under the collar, and let me tell you, old sport, I am f***** boiling right now!", Shawn exclaimed, his voice raising, as was his heart rate, his ire. "You ever heard of a philosophical zombie? You're a smart man, Adam so I'm sure you have but I'll tell you anyway. A philosophical zombie, that's a being that doesn't have subjective experiences. A being that can fake love, pain and the like with perfect accuracy".
"But, but", Shawn paused, finger raised to emphasize his delay, "Here's the thing. They can fake those things but they don't really experience them. That is a soulless being, my friend. Not a he or a she, but an 'it'. And that, that is what this Shogun thinks I am. A f***** zombie, Adam!", he exclaimed, hands thrown in the air, his lips expelling a breath of exasperation, of frustration, of anger. "You wanna know, why? Because my brain's different. Because my primary mutation is this", Shawn paused, index finger tapping his temple, his gaze never wavering from his cousin's. "Because I have a quantum brain that allows me to process information faster than the speed of light all the time. Because I can think in numbers and am good at it. Because there's so much information being processed in here so fast that it'd fry any telepath's mind if they peeked into it".
"I'm a scientist, Adam. I don't deal in philosophy, I deal in facts. And the fact is, someone telling me I'm not a person, that I'm a soulless machine and then trying to kill me for it... oh.. that really grinds my gears. Till this day, Adam, till this day nobody has explained exactly what gives us our consciousnesses. Who is she to decide, out of the f***** blue that my consciousness is a sham!? That I don't think! That the love that I feel for my family and my wife is a goddamn lie!", he growled, chest heaving. Running his fingers through his mahogany locks, smoothing his hair back as he breathed a sigh to calm himself, Shawn's voice lowered, grew somewhat tamer. "If my emotions were a lie, my friend, I don't think I'd have been shouting at the top of my lungs some seconds ago. Adam, I'm telling you this so that you and everyone else knows, that right now, its dangerous being around me. Because this Shogun, she might attack the rest of you".
Oh yeah, I totally get it. Leonardo DiCaprio arouses lots of sinister desires in me too.
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