In the beginning (their beginning that is) there was the artist. A being with immense imaginary power, enough to actually bring his own drawn creations..To life. And so there were two creations, a mask and it's protector. The mask, as you know is the object that bestows it's powers onto it's wearer. It changes shapes, properties and owners throughout the ages. But it would need a keeper, the artist's second creation.

One who would not age, not truly die and most importantly, one who could par it's ludicrous toon powers. T

This is his tale...

Ronin's rest, the bathhouse (yes the very same)

"It WOULD come to the one place where people love to eat duck!" Drake hammered yet another door onto the row he had been working on this entire time. On the other side were Rabbit goons opening one after the other, finding yet another door in their way. Drake, the keeper. A toon duck destined with dealing with everything silly nobody else wants to deal with. His entire being is designed for such scenarios, luckily keeping him off the radar from heavy hitters despite his potentially cosmic power.

On top of his regular duties, there is of course handling the Rabbit mask, which slipped out of his grasp years ago. This had been the closest he gotten to almost reclaiming it.

"You wont like my taste guys! Really I taste like a spoiled duck! Honestly!" He shouted through the doors hammering and hammering away. A few maniacal chuckles escaped his bill, thinking he was so clever. "Heh! Hehee! HO HO HOOOOooooo crap..." Drake turned around to see five goons standing in front of him, having literally used the door beside the door he was blockading. "Looks fellas..Maybe we could just have a nice chat before you try and-"

"-KILL MEEEEE!" Drake struggled under the grip of one of the humans, flailing about and biting at their hands. "Leveret said we gotta deal with this...Duck... So just make it quick..It's enough of a scene as it is..." The leader straightened his tie before handing a blade to the muscle, raising it in the air and stabbed for the duck's skinny neck. Like a snake though, it slithered out of the way of the blade left and right, just pissing the mule off more.

"V-v-v-VALARIE HUNTINGTON IN A BATHHOUSE! Who are ya wearing tonight! Pleeease tell me it's that classy LeBeau fella!" Drake looked on with astonishment, and the fools were stupid enough to fall for it. Upon looking back, Drake at escaped the mans grasp and ran into the woman's changing room, the men followed. But of course the residents of the bathhouse were nude in the room, slapping the men and kicking them out to the other side quickly.

"Pigs! The lot of you! For shame for shame and all that junk!" Drake dressed as a Geisha shouted, quickly rubbing the white makeup off with some bathwater and ran the other way. "This is pointless! I need a man with savvy of the land, a real Japanese witty man!" Upon walking out of the back exit of the Bathhouse, an owl flew down with a sash reading "plot convenience postal service" and dropped an envelope in Drake's hands.

"Finally! Xenon's academy accepted teacher's applicatio-...Ah.." Drake's lisping ended as soon as he saw it was some sort of profile belonging to a samurai.

"Kenshin eh? Sounds like a real B.A..Well if he can't help me, I'm screwed..Literally says that at the bottom of the letter!" The duck slapped the paper showing it actually said so. "Alright Kenshin, here I come, making you solve MY problems!"

"Date, February 11th, 2014. We have made an interesting discovery during a regular castle expedition, though it was not my squad that had made the discovery. Another oddity to note is that unlike most creature discoveries, this is the first one to have occurred in Canada since 1973. And allow me to go on record to say...This is perhaps one of the strangest discoveries we have made.

In the sub levels of a disused research facility fronted as a castle, the S.P.A has discovered some sort of Frankenstein monster. Though of course this thing is not a spawn from the real legendary doctor, it is indeed a very impressive recreated process of reanimating a corpse made up of multiple men.

When the team found him, the lab had been shut down for what seems like over ten years so the analysis says. The creature itself was bound to a titanium chair, his eyes and head fixed on...And no I am not kidding...The Simpsons. The television had programming to play almost all seasons of this popular animation while also playing the most recent episodes as some sort of active stream. It was one of the only active pieces of tech operating during the expedition.

No official conclusion has been stated on why the scientists that made this creature, perhaps as a psychological project. But as a result, the subject is highly uneducated in real world knowledge. And seems to be (unfortunately) influenced by a main character he has been watching for years on the show. A lazy oaf with low intelligence.

This has led to boys around the base to refer to this creature as "Simpson" among other direct references to the show. Simpson of course does not realize he is being made fun of, laughing with them...Highly depressing.

Physical analysis: After some observation while speaking with Simpson, I have concluded that he is an excellent modern recreation of the original concept. A creature made up of what we calculate to be nine whole different corpses (including brains) and brought to life with the assistance of modern technologies. His body in it's own sense is perfect, with seemingly little flaws. Simpson's skin as a result of a sort of mummification, is a chapped green (really does not help hiding a stereotype) and is very durable. It took a needle thrice the standard issue just to get a blood sample.

What we found for blood is just what we expected. Rather gross, congealed blood regulated by a mechanical pump located in the center of his chest (he has no heart).

A few gym tests allowed us to properly observe his physical boundaries. He seems to be at the strength of the ten men he is comprised of. One of the more disturbing aspect of this creature is that unlike many reanimated subjects we have encountered, Simpson feels pain, and it was made to be as such.

Mental analysis: Now, the most troubling and vast portion of Simpson is his psychological and mental profile. He is an oaf, I am sorry to say. Though not per say mentally handicapped, Simpson is simply uneducated in almost all aspects of common knowledge. Everything he knows of at this moment other than what we have told him, is based off of that infernal cartoon. On that note, he has taken to that fat main character in the show as a sort of role model...It's ludicrous. Like a child, Simpson thinks like him and strives to ask himself what that character would do in a situation. We would try to fix this but we are not aware yet of how aggressive Simpson is.

Personal notes: After much protest and arguing, the S.P.A has pulled me off the field work for our most recent investigation in Boston. Why? They want to drop Simpson into the area as a field test, and that's not a metaphor. As far as they are concerned, he will get eaten alive...Or eaten more dead that is. It's way too risky to be placing him into the field alone so early, given his lack of common sense and broken intellect, I only wish I had more time with him for prep. I have been assigned however, to visit Mr.Lebeau to purchase artifacts of interest from his collection...So I am planning not to argue further.

-Agent Higgins, signing off.

It has been three days since my last log.

Respirator issue: Finally dealt with, in a way that is. Wheezing has reduced in noise noticeably as per a new gas density.

The Bull: I have watched the Bull's announcement well over a few hundred times now. The speech is paper plain but the way he speaks, acts and presents himself has presented to be a much more..Interesting thing to observe. Conflict is very soon, the odds point to such. I will have to do my best to serve the Blacklist...

Jefferson: Success at last, a blood sample. Though I have not processed it, I am interested in seeing what is behind such a perfect specimen. I managed to attain the blood while performing some minor tending to wounds Jefferson attained during the Merc's attack. Dare I say I am even "giddy" about it. What intrigues me now however, is the fact that the means of his recovery are...Veiled. I must pursue such knowledge. It's bothering me.

Christmas: Festivities have slightly infested our base. Someone has strung up some minor seasonal decorations and has eluded me every time. I assume it was POW...I intend on spending this Christmas alone as per standard..It presents a chance to watch undisturbed due to other's distracted by the holiday infection.

Health report: I have decreased five pounds in three days, I presume it is from the lack of food consumption. My analyzing has become priority over such..Will consume the appropriate amount of rations to achieve standard one hundred pounds.

Black List: After thorough watching..The team is tense. Whether members choose to accept so or not they are all aware of the conflicts ahead. With the Bull making an official threat against the country for a second time..It will be up to the squad for immediate response. [Note: Speak with Jefferson on mission brief/role pertaining to said conflict].

Mental report: ....Satisfactory....

Hhh...I have taken it upon myself to record the experiences and..Hhh..personal opinions of my time on the Blacklist..Initiative.

Top headed thoughts: Hhh...It has been four weeks since..President Stark recruited my skills and expertise for the Blacklist..Cannot help but to feel..Giddy..That my works are finally appreciated..However I am surrounded by a league of individuals..Hhh..As bizzare or perhaps even more so than myself.

The convict: A padded goon..Stark's first..Hhh..Recruit..Attack dog. I do commend the tech that is utilized by him though. Pig headed when in battle however..Attacks have severe possibility of harming other members [Note: Re-watch Merc attack footage for POW strategies]

The soldier: Though..Hhh..I have watched constantly and observed..This one is puzzling to me still..Either he throws on an..Excellent facade of just being a patriotic thug or..He is in fact just that. Stark put extra..Care..Into this one. Weapons expert..Hhh..Possible genetic tweaking..[Note: collect blood sample whilst subject is sleeping]

The helmet head: Vicious..Strong..Lead headed. This "Juggernaut" is the current..Contender for strongest member..However..Hhh..Suffers from the same strategic faults as the padded one..[Note: Review Serbia conflict footage. Learn attack behaviors/Mental ticks]

The archer: Though it is not..Official..Loose data has very specific intel and reviews of one Gothic citizen. [Note: Create whole new file for Archer publicity, sightings and myths]

Health assessment: I currently weigh a little over a hundred pounds..Excellent protein improvement from last months ninety pounds. Have upgraded sedation/introduction method..Not only do I inhale the serum via gas breather..Suit is now equipped with ten..Hhh..specific syringes to inject serum into key bone joints..Pain has reduced down to only excruciating..Headaches now only several hours daily..Vomit episodes have ceased..Excellent improvements..Though my malnourished body will still seem to never be proper..[Note: Inspect arthritic solutions]

Phantom assessment: Phasing is satisfactory..Hhh..Solid matter is easily passable..Recent upgrades have made it possible to phase through certain energies...Though..It has been a slow process to overcome most energy sources..The..Hhh..Reflex module is buggy..But still responds to gunfire quite swiftly..Initializing the phasing..Gravity manipulators..Still most useful tool against..Conditions..Must always float due to useless legs..[Note: Begin experiments in electrocuting phase modules]

Mental assessment: Hhh...

Real Name: ?

Alias: Mr.Smiles.

Alignment: Psychotic criminal

Height: 6'0

Age: ?

Weight: 165

Hair Colour: Green

Eye Colour: Green

Species: Human

Birthplace: ?

Gender: Male

Identity: ?

Significant traits:

• Chalk white skin
• Crimson lips
• Face frozen in an arthritic grin
• Feels almost no pain around his body
• Intellectual
• Psychotically unpredictable
• Sloppy, yet skilled street fighter
• Almost always carries "Smiley gas" on his person
• A chemical genius
• Smells of bleach

Smiley toxin

Is a chemical compound created by Smiles. It comes in many introductory methods, whether it be skin, or through a gas. The effects seem to vary on intensity of dosage, but the overall result is the same. The victim starts to have fits of laughter against their own will, starting as a small chuckle but eventually turning into a fit of manic laughter that prevents breathing. Soon after, the victim's skin will start to become pale and their hair turns green. The final touch is when the victim's mouth is brutally forced into a arthritic grin that usually snaps that neck of the victim due to intense muscle strain. Smiles seems to be immune to his own toxin.

Personality

Mr.Smiles is unlike most "villains". He seems to have absolutely no morals, no ambitions, or personal interest. The only thing he seems to care about is "being funny" which in his twisted mind, entails death and chaos. His comedic perception of reality and his jade descriptions of such make it very difficult to properly classify into one mental illness. Another mystery is of course how he came to be like this, was it from the still unknown incident that gave him his bleached, scarred appearance? Or was it from before, an abused childhood perhaps.

Smiles has not a single regard for life of any kind, including his own. There has been countless murders, even massacres along with the lack of caring for his own life, displaying many times over in situations where he simply raises his hands and narrowly misses his demise. It's unknown if this careless behavior is a subconscious cry to stop him, or if he yet again just finds it comedic.

Despite his uncaring attitude towards most things, there seems to be only one thing that he has shown a positive (yet still insane) attitude towards, the Noir Rose. In every description of masked crusader that wages to put Smiles down over and over again, he talks about how he completes him, how he is his other half. Some times he even goes as far to say he is in ecstasy when he is face to face with the Rose, like he is playing with a childhood friend.

Oh Cecily, things are so dull here at the asylum, nobody has a sense of HUMOR! I kill three guards with a plastic spoon and it seems that's just "sick" HAHA! You get it though, my dear. The joke doesn't need to be explained to a mind such as mine, and yours, let's face it C, we were meant to be together. But you see, C, heh...I need you to PROVE just how much you care about your favorite clown.

Would you be a dear and, oh I don't know, just listen in on Mr.Knightfall's little chats he has with that party pooper Antonia? It seems they want to cut the punchline early! We can't have that. Luckily this..Puzzler fellow seems to be a curtain grabber, perfect for you and I to plot the next joke..Together..I left you a little something in the box my dear, should be able to get past those pesky metal detectors at bossy towers over there just fine...

Lots of laughs, Mr.Smiles.

Smiles would ensure the package would be intercepted by a few of his temporary cronies, who would place a lovely extendable wooden mallet in the box for Cecily. A gift from one mad person to another.

It was slowly coming, and the clown knew it. With everything he has done, it's left a burn on this city, and someone was going to want to take out the person responsible. With this in mind, Smiles could do only one thing, laugh. His horrid laughter, echoing out through the halls, making the hardest of inmates cringe and even some of the guards block their ears.

A week after his capture during the Death March...

Oh my blond beauty, like an angel who feels the pain on this grinning face..Literally! HA! It has been a nice hiatus, to answer your question from your last letter. I needed a nice relaxing time off before my next big show, and what better place to rest up than a room where every wall is a bed!

I can't even start to explain how..Funny it is to finally have a fan of my work! All of those party poopers thinking it's "sadistic" or "horrific". Phooey to them I say! HAHAHA! You mustn't fret dear, there will be many more broadcasts, and alot more hilarity soon enough. As soon as I am all rested up, my bruises healed from that caped menace and the opportunity arises.

See you around C, lots of laughs

-Mr.Smiles

P.S: Make sure this is hush hush, as usual.

Kamelot...

"Another one?" The security guard chuckled while pointing at the mailman's singular envelope, wrapped in purple and green wrapping. "I guess hey? Never new she had a fella, you know..With that "interesting personality of hers".." The mailman shared a jab at the secretary's...Bubbly behavior before walking on over to the front desk, she must have been busy, for she was not there. With a simple shrug, he dropped the envelope in a drop box marked "Cecily"...

The Solace City Chronicles

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Solace city, the docks. Weeks before Smiles first appeared in Gothic...

Bruce Maxim, big time arms smuggler, infamous around Solace City for his freighter ship and gang. The dealer himself stepped out of the black hummer just on the dock line of his massive ship, puffing away on his cigar while walking over to a couple of his thugs. The hired guns were looming over a man with a bag over his head, on his knees..Giggling.

"Nice to meet the man who has been causing all the ruckus..Mr.Smiles.." Bruce sneered right before pulling the red tarp off of his head to reveal the Clowned King of Chaos. "Hehheheh..And nice to meet you! Err whale man? Big Rig? No no! OH! Hows about-!" Bruce took his large fist and sent it right against Smiles's mouth, only making him jerk slightly while till cackling.

"Hows about you shut the fck up for a second eh? Mind your manners in the presence of someone like myself..Compared to some freak filth like you.." Bruce chomped on his cigar a bit before starting to pace back and forth in front of the giggling maniac. "You have blown up three of my warehouses..Killed fifty of my best men. Stood up against that whore Goddess AND killed a family in cold blood..I LIKE that. So instead of havin' my boys here break your grinning teeth and give you some downtime at the docks..I'm going to hire you, as an enforc-"

But before Bruce could finish his proclamation of Smiles's new "employment"...Gunfire could be heard aboard his ship. "What the fck!?" Was the last thing he could shout before Smiles drew a switchblade from his sleeve and cut his ankle wide open, proceeding to laugh and jump on his back like a horse. Now the clown's ginning face was right beside Bruce's as they watched chaos ensue on board.

"That's one of my favorite JOKES BRUCE! HAHAHA! You suit types..Thinking I do this for the money.." Smiles took the blade and held it against his throat, digging it slowly into the muscular flesh. "Wanna know what's going on up there Brucie Bruce? Those are YOUR men..Well..My men..Killing your most loyal goons.." The two thugs that were supposed to be making sure Smiles didn't do anything were busy pulling clown masks out of their jackets and slipping them on.

"You see..A few days ago, I gave some of your men ALOT of money..Heh..LIke ALOT! HAHA! And you wanna know why they said yes soooooo quickly? Cause I promised them the FORTUNE in your vault. You see that's what makes an avatar of comedy such a good boss..I'm not an oinky oinky pig! Heheh. I don't cut their payments short, and in return they all become extensions of my cause..Hilarious chaos. Take one last good look at her Brucie..Cause she's MINE NOW! HAHAHAHAHAAAAA!" Smiles quickly ran the blade along Bruce's neck, releasing a stream of blood onto the concrete below.

Around ten minutes later, Mr.Smiles was standing at the main mast of the freighter, below him were cheering crowds of thugs now wearing clown face paint and masks, his rebels without a cause. "Gentlemen! Who feels like sinking this island to the ground!?" He called out, the crowd roaring up in thunderous shouting. "Just remember! The punchline ALWAYS COMES FIRST!"

The word would soon enough spread that Bruce was dead, and that Smiles took over the operation. People would ask why he did it of course. Was it money? Power? Control? No...

It was for fun.

*Static*

*FZZT!* And there he was once more, invading the television screens of Gothic city, however this time the GCPD was already working on tracking the broadcast. The clown king of crime was now sitting on the back of a Smiley toxin victim, poking at his finger with a knife.

"You know Gothic, I love you, ALL OF YOU! HA! No really! The way you just..STAY here after all that has happened! A city-wide riot? Another day in the park. It makes me think that you're all just as crazy as me!..Well..Somewhere in you. But now I am getting just a bit sidetracked, heh..Oh! One more thing!"

The clown poked the corpse he sat on with his knife, of course not moving from it's grinning, petrified state. "This! Former fellow, was once a private detective. Keen! Smart!..But oh so stupid..One "mysterious tip" is all it took to get this hound sniffing in my direction. Take a good look detectives, gum shoes AND OF COURSE...The GCPD..Take a look at what sniffing around my hilarious affairs get's you. Isn't that right Richie?"

Smiles leaned down and grabbed his grinning, cold mouth, making it move only slightly. "THAAAAT'S right kids! Meddling in Mr.Smile's affairs is BAAAAAAD NEWS!" He did a half-rate puppet act before bursting into laughter "HAHAHAHAAAA!"

Smiles pulled the camera in a bit closer after pocketing his knife, showing more of his horrendously pale face, that grin. "You listening bats? I know you are! I think you and I are due for a harmless little meeting, some quality time! But I am telling you now that I don't do dinner and a movie, HAHAHAHAAAA!..Hoo...Sorry! Anyway. I want you to get your pointy head on over to the Gothic piers in the next forty eight hours AT NIGHT! At the old chemical processing plant. Annnnd if you don't?"

Mr.Smiles grabbed a jack in the box from off screen and set it on his lap, a wire clearly hooked up to it, he started to crank it while talking. "Well you see Mr.Crusader, my goon squad have been busy bees, laying presents all over Gothic..A little taste of the show if you don't comply I think is in order hmm?" As soon as he finished, a doll version of Smile's head popped out of the box with confetti..Followed by a loud rumble in the background. "HUH!? What was that you ask? It was an abandoned factory in the industrial district..And you wanna know the funny part? It was filled with the thirty goons I hired TO SET THE BOMBS! HAHAHAHAAAAAHAHAAAHAHAHA!" Smiles burst into almost demonic laughter while throwing the box behind him.

"Ahhhh...See? I'm a GOOD GUY too! Except I just make sure I don't leave loose ends..NOW! Forty eight hours! The pier! BE THERE!"

*Static*

The GCPD would pin the location in time, but all they would find is an apartment room filled with Smiley victims and no prints, the room covered in green "HA HA's"

Around thirty men, thirty criminals to be exact flocked over to the abandoned factory in Gothic industrial. They all heard the same thing, some new psycho in town offering big bucks to join his crew. And they were foolish enough to take the term psycho lightly.

"Good EVENING boys and girls!" Mr.Smiles threw his hands in the air as spotlights shined down on the workshop floor where the goons stood and looked up, the clown standing around twenty feet up on some rafters. "Now I know what you have all heard the past week, that I'm throwing money at idiots like you to do menial tasks..And it's true! There are just a few things you should before you join!" Smiles grinned while cocking his head to one of the female thugs that was laughing a bit.

"Do we all have to get our skin bleached, so we all look like a bunch of clown f@ggots too?" The woman yelled up, making a few more laugh, even Smiles joined in. But only half a second, Smiles had fired a dart from his sleeve that sunk into the woman's neck, instantly making her fall into a fit of laughter. The crowd went silent in fear..

"..Where was I? AH YES! The things. First off, I own you, all of you in here now. And if you talk back, hesitate to do whatever? Well I'll just fire you, the same why I did to her! And I would say that's pretty fair, I mean look at THAT SMILE! HAHAHAHAAAA!" He pointed back down to the woman who was now dead on the floor, her skin now white, hair green and a petrified grin on her face.

"SECOND! This. Is. NOT a gang, or a crew or some creepy cult!..Ok maybe it could be a cult if you want! HA! No no no nooo..This is going to be a flood, an explosion! You morons being the flame while I! Am it's detonator..UNDERSTAND!? You keep whatever goodies you find, that is your cut. NO debts! NO me taking any of your CUT! Sounds good? OF COURSE IT DOES! HAHA!"

The more Mr.Smiles talked and laughed, the more nervous the men became, like they realized that they all signed up to work for the devil himself.

"Now..Let's talk business shall we!?" Smiles slammed his gloved fist on a red button, shining flood lights on drums, and drums, and drums of explosive piled up ceiling high inside the warehouse. The goons all staring in horror, even a bit of excitement.

"Time for some constructive demolition..."