Uncommon

Leon I'm going to hunt you down ._.

I lol'ed

Part 3: The End, Better Known as the Beginning

There was a civil war taking place inside of the old man's head. “Old” in relation to age in years is relative of course, but somewhere in his prime, he began trading cartilage for scars where better flesh used to lay, so his mental dexterity was the only asset to truly survive his abuse. And when nature decided he didn't deserve that either, it flooded his synapses with wild surges to replace all that white and grey matter with something more weaponizable, so he was quantifiably “old”.

This is how August J. Hudson lost the war in his head

This is how he went into the battle over his remains, ready to lose

This is how August Hudson died and the Beast was born

It was the press event of the season. Like a sucker punch from Iron Mike in his prime, no one would have guessed the entrepreneur behind Winter Technologies was ready to leave the company entirely, but when the news hit, it left the media dizzy to say the least.

Everything was planned down to the second. Hudson knew what the reporters were going to ask, so he gave them rehearsed answers. He knew just what to say to keep the company's stocks from falling when investors feared the future. And when consumers wondered what the future would be like, he promised, “Exciting”. Only with a serial killer's attention to detail and an assassin's efficiency could this show go so accordingly, and if this was his last act before plunging into the deep ends of the concrete jungle, he wasn't settling for any less than flawless.

Far above August's crowd, were the clouds held the stratosphere, was where his closing act fell. A hired sniper with the aim of Artemis and enough incentive to conquer a village. Cold, calculated, and gracefully, the sniper fired his shot to no noise or curve, just a perfect spiral piercing through the space to Hudson's chest.

And as the older assassin sees the bullet incoming, he thinks, Not bad... Think I could have done better myself, though, before turning slightly for a better hit through the rib cage. Then, the bullet sinks in with *thump*, and he falls onto the stage of his own demise.

He'd spent a litany of time trying to pinpoint what death felt like before, and for the most part, he was on point. It was dizzying to the point of partial blindness, followed by the sensation of cold shock nullifying all feeling and then complete numbness, then finally, the roars of the crowd flooded his eardrums until it all merged into ambient hums. Although, what he hadn't expected was for death to taste so much like the crispest air after years of solitude confinement or for the afterlife's embrace to flood his nostrils like breathing in an entire tundra.

It was peaceful for a moment like freefalling

Until there was nothing...

And then the voices. Some sounded as beautiful as Aphrodite in the middle of a fever dream. Some of them shrieked and screamed with such intensity it must have ravaged their cheeks. Others spoke in long dead languages. But they all chanted the same mission: Rebuild the Kindom

And the Beast was ready for war

Some suggestions

@lichter:TheUncanny & Classique

Would you like the honor of picking the scene?

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. This is mostly about establishing the new direction I am going with my character so no one should feel obligated to move in on me yet because I'll be coming for the rest of you next >:D

I have an alt but unless you've been around for a few years I doubt you'd know that account better than this one. Helmut Zemo is a boss look by the way ;)

It is more interesting that way isn't it?

TL;DR again? S'all good:

Possessed (Schizo?) August Hudson is devising a plan to stage his own murder. More frieghtningly, he's submitting to the more animalistic side of himself. He's also kind of eating other people :P

Part 2: How to Cut Off the Nose

The décor of the Uncommon Beast's den was minimalisticaly dress in shades of ebony, burgundy and cherry wood. This hidden loft in London, Britain was designed by a much more refined and meticulous August Hudson, who knew how to appreciate a french coffee table to tie together the sofa with the tv display. Every inch of the room was crafted to impress any guest in the social latter, but what remained of Hudson, the more primal and focused monster of an assassin, pushed every item to the perimeters to spotlight the dinner table set for two tonight.

There was only one light to showcase the beauty of the meal, an ominous shame. That same single light revealed just enough of Uncommon's olympian physique to add levy to every word creeping out from behind his unwavering hellish grin. The pure white eyes where his only features to pierce the darkness as he took a seat at the table, almost as to secure any suspicious of who was really the predator and who was the prey.

The guest was a local hired gun, infamously know as the Crow Sniper. For a while the man twisted and turned to unshackle himself from the luxurious chair that bounded down his wrists, ankles and head, but he must have been there for days-on-end now, so the only thing that was escaping was his fighting spirit.

Just as slowly as it was mocking, the Uncommon Beast pulled out his phone from the shadows to deactivate the arm and mouth straps. Crow flopped over limp into his dinner plate; weak, speechless, and desperate.

A proposition in the form of deep, crackling rasps come from below the arresting white eyes, “ Try the meat. You haven't had anything better than my northern chinese styled dish, promise. I've curated each slice with sea salt, cilantro, and-”

Crow's retort was weak, but poignant, “Go... f*ck... yourself ”

“Perhaps I would if I could...But back to the meat, some use pork... others, beef. You know what I use...the weak. Like you? Perhaps. But first I'm going to give you an opportunity to stay at the round table rather than on it. Fair enough”? His words could've been coy, if only his voice sounded any less inhumane.

“Please... Just let me go... I'll... I'll do whatever you want you bloody psychopath”

“Psychopath. Of all the words to describe me, that 's one of my least favorite”, the Uncommon Beast stands up and creeps closer to his guest. Each step ended with a heavy crackling from the wooden floors, and perhaps it was just Crow's mind exaggerating, but it looked as the beast grew larger with each step until his head scraped the ceiling. The light did little help to reveal Uncommon's features as the shadows unnaturally trailed behind their owner. Face to face, where the Beast's eyes could almost singe the Crow's flesh, he barks his final words for the night, “When the last guy said no, I had just enough ingredients and patients left to make tonight's entre nice... But I'm all out of sea-salt. Cilantro is so overpriced too. And I've got bigger things to worry about, so you'll be a midnight snack at best … But we're not going to worry about that are we? Because you're going to make the right choices. First by trying the meat. And then by doing me the favor of killing August Hudson”.

TL;DR

August Hudson/ Uncommon is either becoming schizophric or being possess, but either way he's attacking people at radom. His powers are expanding, which is a plus, but he has also had to step down as the owner of his business to work out person afflictions.

If any of you know me, there's no telling how long I'll be around, but I'm sort of doing a villian thing, only in newer direction.