I always thought you were the one that didn't post! What a pity. I'm a monster.
Midknighter's forum posts
@antonia: How much time do I have till I write it? I'm not sure what you're asking here >_> I want to know because a friend of mine is going to be studying in the US (she's rolling in cash :() and she proposed I join her, but I have to write the SATs if I want to do that so I just want to find out a little bit about it. Apparents I'd write it in June.
DC made a good move when they created the fictional cities like Gotham & Metropolis, giving each place it's own head honcho hero. With Marvel it's like every hero just chills in New York City at the same time which makes for some illogical stuff.
Malcolm Press's Manor.
The gates loomed up over the mob of submachine gun toting individuals and they glanced at each other with some hesitance, unsure as to their purpose. They'd marched all the way up from the city to the Mayor's esteemed mansion and had murdered and destroyed every car or pedestrian they'd come across on the winding roads, totalling their casualty score up to a good fifteen for the night so far. Their commander, the Clown Prince of Chaos, had lead them lazily and stopped several times to torture the victims they'd passed, managing to squeeze a good four pain induced deaths for the night so far.
And now here they were.
The Midknighter rested his disinterested frame upon his pitch black cane and eyed the Manor quietly, his emotionless features allowing little indication as to what his intentions were. His gang of trained police officers-turned-gangbangers waited patiently for their leader to pass out his demented orders as per usual and some whistled nonchalantly, as if the journey up to destroy a structure of some sort were an everyday occurrence for them all. Which it was.
There was a small buzzer near the gate and it stood less than a foot away from the Psychopath Prince of Pain, so, without moving much else but his long arm, he pushed the button and spoke loudly and clearly, his gravelly voice strained with an almost tired laziness.
"Hello, Dark Vengeance? I'm at your gate."
The darkness around him began to swirl like tentacles on an octopus and the Midknighter inclined his large boned face to one side, horrific make-up emphasising the evil he possessed.
"Can I come in?"
Without waiting for a response, the Maniacal Menace of Man tapped his index finger once upon his cane and the shadows thickened tenfold around him, shooting at the reinforced gates with enough strength to level a sturdy building.