The World Forged by powers explores what the world would be like if super powers were real.
It takes place in the modern day and uses sci-fi rather than magic.
You can play as practically anyone you like.
It is always open to new players no matter how far along it is.
A brief history of Earth:
In an alternate universe far from here lies an Earth much like our own. In this universe the existence of super powers is a fact of life. On this Earth the myths and legends of ancient times such as the Greco-Roman and Norse gods are based on true stories of Humans with special abilities and skills. Historical events in this world have gone more or less the same path as they have in our world with a few alterations. Up until the First World War supernormals were few and far between.
After the First World War a variety of programs were started by several of the world's nations to try to cultivate those with extraordinary gifts. You can just imagine the propaganda posters encouraging those with abilities to make babies with others who had compatible abilities. They created super soldiers of many types. Often times the offspring of known supernormals were trained from a young age. Transgenic hybrids were created by mixing genetic material for the positive aspects of animals into the Human genome. Even straight up clones were made of certain individuals. By the time the Second World War rolled around these super soldiers were of fighting age.
Because of this intentional interbreeding and genetic manipulation the number of supernormals in modern times is quite high. 25% of the Human population of Earth have some aspect that could be considered extraordinary compared to Human beings in the real world. Most of the time these aspects are negligible or fairly mundane but around 5% of the population are significantly more powerful.
In addition to this there have also been significant advances in technology relative to our world. The ability to create Transgenic Hybrids by modifying Human genes to create new beings. (From birth, of course, since it's impossible to do it with existing beings). Sentient machines created by copying the Human mind into quantum computers or gel-circuitry (see collective). True Artificial intelligences created by replicating the Human mind's functions within fully cybernetic mediums. LASER weapons, Force-fields, Holograms, Cybernetics, Nanites, Robotics, Anti-gravity and Artificial Wormholes are all possible. There is also a small amount of over-technology (Technology that is more advanced than should be possible to create for its time but that was not shared with the rest of society,) due to super geniuses.
Humans are not the only sentient beings in this world. There exists a minority of self aware artificial intelligences as well as a variety of altered Humans. The most common types of altered Humans are the animal transgenic hybrids and cybernetic Humans. There are also afflicted Humans; doppelgangers, vampires, werewolves and mindless zombies which have been around for centuries.
In 2004 a young British genius going by the name of HardeWare formed a new company named HardeWare Systems with his old colleague Peter Vanderheijden. This company created robots, weapons and other advanced technologies. For the short amount of time the company has been active it has made a fairly quick ascent up the economic ladder. This is mainly due to Peter’s influence, as he is known to be notoriously ruthless in his business transactions. The company is well known for its chain of HardeWare Stores; a franchise of retail outlets that supply their customers with weapons, powered armour, various other gadgets and range dietary supplements.
One of the most significant contributions of HardeWare has made is the Portal Network. A collection of wormholes is kept permanently open by large rings, between major destinations on the planet in a sort of airport-like system allowing fast affordable (A ticket usually costs about £75 (about $125) for a single jump.) transportation through portals between most major countries. The system originally only traveled between the ten most popular destinations but over time more and more countries have been added to the portal network.
Men and woman of every race fighting side by side in the largest war ever known did a lot for equality among the allied countries, Unfortunately it had the unintended side-effect of making the new prejudice de-jour; supernormal superiority. After World War II the earth was left with a multitude of supernormals with no more war to fight. So they began to turn their abilities to other areas. Business, crime, or law enforcement. Once the super-villain and super-hero trend got started battles in public became common-place. With all these extraordinary people causing untold collateral damage to people and property the common folk wanted a solution. They demanded the relaxation of the restrictions on guns and other weapons so that they could defend themselves. The governments of the US and UK were far too caught up in the Cold War by this time to refuse their demands.
At the end of the Cold War in 1991 the Department of Supernormal Enforcement (AKA the DSE) went public and became an official government agency. The DSE was put in charge of the confidential registry of individuals with supernormal abilities. (The names in the registry are what is secret not the existence of the registry.) Those with dangerous abilities are legally obligated to register. Anyone committing a crime with supernormal abilities is registered in the same way that fingerprints are taken. You can also register voluntarily if you so desire. The DSE makes a point of hiring supernormal agents to deal with supernormal criminals.
In the year 1846 an eclectic group of investigators were put together by the crown to officially pursue extraordinary matters. This Ministry of the Extraordinary was populated by a wide variety of extraordinary individuals from all around the empire and later the United Kingdom. In times of war the Ministry was charged with supplying the royal military with extraordinary soldiers. In 1993 the Ministry of the Extraordinary decided to adopt the same policy in the United Kingdom as was being used in the United States. The Primary differences being that those licensed with the Ministry do not pay for their damage and medical insurance but it is instead paid for by taxes as good faith for the work done on behalf of the nation.
There are of course many who resent the registry and choose to keep their identity a secret in order to perform vigilante actions without being entered into a registry. This is considered illegal vigilantism but the DSE and the Ministry of the Extraordinary are prone to ignore these offenders unless they become a problem. There is an organization known as the League of Masks who help provide a support network for these illegal vigilantes. They also provide lawyers if they get caught. Masks who are not members of the League rarely last long.
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Powers and Technology:
This is my combined list of documented Super aspects in the RP world including super-powers, afflictions, species and super-technology. New powers will be added to the list as they are discovered. If you have any questions about powers, tech and the super-physics that they are based on or a new power you'd like me to add to the list post it. If- you're planning on submitting a new power we strongly suggest you submit the power first before making a whole sheets.
IMPORTANT TO NOTE
The more primary powers you have the weaker each one will be. For example a superspeedster telekinetic will not be as fast as a straight up super-speedster. Some powers however make each other stronger. for example a metamorphic shapeshifter with regeneration would have the regeneration cause the metamorphic changes to function better and the metamorphic changes would cause the regeneration to function better. However the Metamorphic changes would not be as good as those of a pure metamorph. Some powers make each other weaker. For example superdurable skin and cloaking. Trying to make the skin do two opposite things greatly hampers both. If you are not sure whether two powers are Sympathetic, neutral or conflicting then please ask me, I will be happy to tell you. Additionally Psychokinetic powers are strictly one per character. Telepathic and Psychokinetic powers may not be used in AIs or non-sapient organisms. Other than that the only limit on organic powers is how many food calories you eat. In order to do something you have to have the energy. That means you get tired and hungry after fighting.
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Do not post on this thread except to make in character or descriptive world posts (Such as announcements on a television.) Go to the OOC thread to get your character sheet approved before you begin playing.
This is the New York IC. If you are in New York this is the place to post. If you are in London please post in the London IC Thread. Otherwise post in whichever is geographically closest. (North America, South America, Asia, the Arctic and the Pacific Islands go in the New York IC. Europe, the Middle East, Africa, Australia and the Antarctic go in the London IC. If you are in space or on the moon you post based on what country owns the space station, space ship or moon colony.)
No stealing from other media. All material must be kept at least a little bit original. Or, in other words, don't put stuff we could get sued for if we put it in our comic. Change the names and don't directly copy things. By entering this RP you allow for us to use your character in our webcomic if we so choose. (The webcomic is currently shelved but we still hope to make one some day.)
No magic. This includes runes, curses, chants, etc or unrealistic powers. All things must be explainable by what I like to call "superhuman physics" if you have questions about what this means feel free to ask me on the OOC thread.
When your character is interacting with someone else's character please indicate who and what you are replying to. You don't have to quote their entire post just make it clear. The current date is normally the same as the current date in real life, however, since RP actions take many real life days the match is never exact.
I expect reasonable sized posts but not too big. We don't want to gum up the works. Just make sure they're not too long and not too short.
You can declare an attack but you can't decide whether or not it succeeds. Only the GMs or the person being attacked can decide whether attacks succeed . But don't make yourself invincible. This is a game, take some damage, have some fun. (current GMs are Forge, Icee, Kiji and Mega)
"Perro!"Cesar adjusted his sunglasses, pushing them back up to the bridge of his nose as he awaited the arrival of his friend. He was seated inside a 1963 Chevrolet Impala which featured a primarily black paint job, with gold coloured rims and a license plate which read "VAT0NO1". The seats were made of leather, and the dashboard itself featured a smooth design."Mierda, Perro!"Sure enough, audible clicks could be heard as a fully grown Doberman Pinscher dashed through the alleyway, jumping into the vacant passenger seat. Cesar promptly leaned to the right to pull the door shut and followed this by quietly rubbing behind the dog's left ear."Shit, ese. I was tempted to let the fuckin' dog warden pick up your slobberin' ass. Don't take so long next time, huh?"Of course, the dog didn't respond, but Cesar didn't mind. Pressing his foot against the pedal, the car acclerated forwards and began to navigate it's way through the streets of Brooklyn.
Reaching down towards an already opened can of beer resting in the car's cupholder with his free hand, Cesar brought it up to his lips, swigging more of it's contents before holding the can out so that Perro could finish it off. The dog promptly lapped it up and Cesar opted to dispose of the now-empty can by tossing it at a nearby police officer who was on foot patrol."Come at me, pendejo!"Accelerating the car even further, he smirked as the officer could do nothing but attempt to report the incident over the radio, but by now the car's license plate was well out of viewing distance. Passing an attourney's office building, Cesar grinned once again as he spotted a familiar figure stood atop a billboard mounted to the building's wall, throwing up a graffiti mural with an array of paint cans. He sounded the horn, throwing the figure a nod before going on his way.
The figure was Anon, a notorious graff artist who, for the past few years, had made quite a name for himself amongst the New York Police Department. You see, he'd been responsible for several dozen pieces across the entirety of the city, from Manhattan to the Bronx, all of them had seen at least a dozen pieces. And yet the department had never managed to capture him, as he'd always managed to writhe free of their grasp should they even manage to get close to him. More than a few officers had ended up in the hospital with a few injuries, nothing fatal, but still concerning. Now Anon, or Nate as his true name was, had been working on another piece in response to the arrest of one of his friends for doing a few pieces in Brooklyn. Anon's piece in question depicted several chimpanzees in NYPD uniform and wielding bananas instead of guns and batons, chasing after several teenagers carrying paint cans whilst in the background an elderly woman was held up by a smartly dressed man with a snake's head in lieu of a human one, robbing the elderly woman of her purse.
The piece was quickly finished off, only for the sound of a helicopter and sirens in the distance to become audible to his ears. Realising that somebody had likely took notice of his work on the attourney office's billboard, he firmly placed his hands upon a nearby pipe, gripping onto it and beginning to clamber his way up. When he reached the top, the sirens had grown even closer, and the helicopter could be seen overhead. The paintjob and printing was all too familiar, and the voice that bellowed out from it confirmed any doubts that one might have had."This is the NYPD, you are surrounded. Surrender yourself, there is no chance of escape. Place your hands on your head and get on the knees, this is your only warning."Meanwhile, on the rooftop across the street, several snipers could be seen prepping their equipment, and he could make out a series of loud, metallic footsteps as a SWAT team made their way up a nearby platform.
Anon smirked, before turning his back, disregarding the fact that the NYPD were assembling against him. The first few SWAT officers made their way up onto the roof, calling out in loud, authorative voices."Freeze! Hands behind your head, get on the ground!"Anon ignored them, continuing on with a brisk walk before breaking into a sprint."He's running! Take him down!"They opened fire on him, unwilling to take any chances after numerous attempts of non-lethal apprehension had ended only in the injury of several officers and the destruction of police equipment. Anon briskly ducked as he moved evasively, jumping over or sliding under the ventilation shafts and AC Units dotted across the rooftop and using them as a temporary means of cover. Just up ahead could be seen a gap where an alleyway existed between the rooftop and the rooftop across from it. Viewing this as his ticket out, Anon reached for his retracted staff and clicked it, causing it to protract, and followed such by gripping onto the end of a drain pipe which led down to the bottom of the alleyway, sliding down it.
A maintenance hatch could be seen in front of him, and wasting no time he broke the rusted lock with a single strike from the staff and proceeded to prize the hatch open, jumping down into the network of subway tunnels below the city surface.
It was hard to believe that he had only taken out the lease for this space less than a month ago. That was only to be expected, he supposed, when you had some of the most advanced commercially available technology in the world at your disposal. The 'coming soon' signs had gone up, the work crews had come in and before you knew it Manhattan had it's first HardeWare Store. It was a rather large space with about 50,000 square feet spread over two floors.
The majority of the floor space was filled corner to corner with wares. The walls were painted a pale, almost grey, blue. The shelving was jet black with a stripe of soft green neon lighting running vertically down the end of each one. At the end of each row was a black sign with soft green neon lit letters denoting the number of each aisle and what was being sold there. There was an aisle for powered armour, an aisle for grappling hooks, an aisle for cell-phones, etc. All organized and easy to find.
In the front of the store there were two pairs of automatic doors labeled 'In' and 'Out'. Along the side with the out doors there were three cash registers done up in the same black-with-green-lighting style on blue, almost grey, counters. Near the back of the first floor was a customer service center equipped with testing and repair equipment for damaged merchandise. There was an up escalator and a down escalator flanking either side of two special up and down grav tubes for ascension and descension between floors.
On the second floor there were further rows of shelves the same as those on the first floor. In the front of the second floor placed right against the window viewing the street was the special demonstration area for the display of new merchandise or for special sales. In the back of the second floor was the juice bar where special combinations of flavours and dietary supliments could be prepared as shakes or smoothies. This was also where the HWSys energy bars and trademarked flametabs could be purchased. Hopefully this juice bar would become a hang-out of choice for the local supernormals with their specialized dietary needs.
The entire store was equipped with a specialized holographic scanning device. It was capable of keeping track of inventory and informing the employees when an item needed restocking or was being stolen. As an additional safety precaution the entire store was fitted with a dimensional stabilizer large enough to cover the entire store area. The store was also equipped with a full holographic display system complete with kinetic barrier projectors. All of this was controlled from the manager's office above the stock room behind the store. Lord Tamerlane, the General Manager of the store kept a remote control for the entire system on his person at all times.
The HARDEWARE STORE sign hanging out front of the store was soon lit. Fliers had been sent out to local citizens and an advertisement had been taken out in the local paper. He had even paid a teenager ten dollars an hour to stand on the nearby street corner and spin an arrow shaped sign. He had only to unlock the doors for the grand opening and let the growing crowd inside. There were fewer than he had expected but at least a dozen by his count. consider the price level of some of the merchandise sold here this could still turn out to be a profitable day. After all, he still had to earn back the cost of building this store.
"You are watching news channel 24. Breaking news: tragedy strikes on Ireland as over one hundred people die in a formerly secret research facility. Known as Project Dragon, the facility was intended to breed and clone raptors which would then be sold to the British military for use as biological drones. While the military is scrambling to contain all these raptors, British politicians are furiously demanding for someone to pay for what occurred, while denying any and all involvement themselves. That blame may fall on officer Lloyd Chadburn, who was reported to have helped release one of the raptors from its captivity. Meanwhile, sightings of these raptors, including one that looks like a dragon, continues to increase as livestock are quickly disappearing all over the -"
The TV flicked off as a rough, muscular-looking man tosses the remote somewhere on the floor behind the counter. Politics at home was bad enough for people to listen to while they were waiting in his shop, but news around the world was almost never good. Maybe he should've at least changed the channel, but then again, there wasn't much on TV that was worth watching. Fortunately for him, the two men now waiting in his shop agreed with the shop keeper, keeping to themselves as the muscular man made his way into the garage.
"Bah, damned scientists and politicians," one of the two visitors said as he shrugged his arms, "you just know when you put the two together, they either never get along, or do something downright devious and almost evil."
"Big problems like those don't get solved until the little ones do... hey Johnny!" the second visitor shouted to the shop keeper, "You done with my car yet?!"
"Yeah, almost! Just give me a second or something, I'm just doing a few adjustments, on the house!"
Johnny Goode: mechanic, storekeeper, car enthusiast, womanizer, alcoholic. Other than interactions with his customers, Johnny was the kind of man who kept to himself whenever possible. "The Goode Mechanic Shop" was the closest thing he had to a home, especially after his father died and he had no other relatives to rely on. For the time being, all he cared about was putting the finishing touches on the car in front of him, making sure it was in good enough condition to roll out of his shop. It probably got rear-ended or something by some other dumb-ass or other. Nothing he hasn't seen before. Putting the final touch on it, he walked back into the lobby room and tossed a dirty rag into the corner. He'd remember to pick it up later, eventually.
"Well, I think your car's done now" Johnny said to the second visitor. "I'll take your payment here."
"Much obliged, sir. Surprised you even keep things cheap around here, with the kind of work you do" the man said as he got to his feet and walked over to the counter.
"Family secret" Johnny grinned. "Seems like you got enough on your mind, so it won't be too hard on your wallet."
"Yeah, I've got enough to think about now. Family is into some bad things."
"Cousin of mine, favourite in the family - ah forget it, it's too personal. Here's my credit card."
"Sorry to hear about that. Hope he's not running with the wrong crowd down here. Hear that's often the problem with them younger kids around these parts."
"Yeah" the man sighed, "real bad people... he's just trying to prove he can make money on his own, but from what I hear, he's just putting himself into too much risk. He was talking about some deal going on near the docks, but - I can't call the cops and stop it. Either he'd get killed from the cops or those damned thugs, or he'd know it was one of us that told them off, and he'd be completely lost."
"... I'm sorry to hear that. Hey, what time is it?"
"Eh, about half past six" the first man spoke up, having kept silent up until now. "Sorry to keep you in the shop so late on a Saturday night."
"Don't mention it. I'll have to finish your car tomorrow, but you - here's your card, by the way - you can just drive on out of here now."
"Thanks, we won't keep you much longer."
As the two men made their ways, one driving out of the garage and the other making his way to the nearest bus stop, Johnny closed up his shop and pressed a button elsewhere in the shop, with a giant "EMPLOYEES ONLY" sign hanging over it. The floor suddenly opened up in front of him, and another car - heavily plated and unlike any other car in the garage - was raised up from the ground. Rubbing his hands together, Johnny walked over to another part of the garage and opened up a locker, which held a mask, leather gloves and apron, as well as what appeared to be thick metal sheets welded together into improvised armour.
This evening was about to get a lot more interesting for The Mad Welder.
Anon's Workshop, one of the many hideaways the graff artist used whenever he wished to lay low, plan out a piece prepare a stencil or a wheat-paste poster or rest in a home away from home. Hidden underground in a disused subway power control room, the door which had once been used to access it was welded shut and rusted away beyond use, with the only other way in and out being the ventilation shaft. Anon had resided here for the past few hours after evading the authorities yet again, and had been surfing the internet on his laptop which was bounced through several proxies in the case that someone wanted to track him down. He'd been examining recent events, smirking as he spotted an article which read "Anonymous Graffiti Vandal targets NYPD's Brooklyn Department Building", yet another example of his earlier work, one which he took particular pride in.
Flickering through more articles, he soon took interest in a specific title: "Grand Opening of HardeWare Store yields success", It was enough to gain his attention, and it would make a great place to plant some stickers and do a stencil or pasteup. And he needed to do at least one throwie. So, he made an entry in his black book, then he left his workshop, making his way through the subway tunnels which he'd mapped out in his head. Eventually he reached a maintenance hatch which was unlocked and near his intended destination, so he opted to climb it to the surface, finding himself in an alleyway across the street from the store. Perfect. Crossing the street, he discreetly planted a sticker on the display window as he made his way in, the sticker itself reading "Hello, my name is" followed by a blank white patch, a reference to his commonly referred name.
Stepping inside, he casually planted more stickers on the boxed merchandise which read store-like tags such as "MADE IN HELL" and "PRICE: ONE SOUL". But that was just the icing on the cake, as he delved further into the store, before spotting a particular spot at the end where there was a blank wall, one that most people would see as they made their way through the store. Reaching for a stencil card he'd hooked onto his belt, he pressed it against the wall and took out an aerosol can and brought it up to the card, applying paint to the targetted area before replacing it with a different colour aerosol can, repeating the process until the stencil was complete. It depicted a man in a business suit with a cobra's head instead of a human's, holding a bag which read "Dignity" in lieu of the dollar sign whilst several skeletal figures crawled towards him helplessly.
He needed to move on though, and he quickly proceeded further into the store, heading towards yet another blank wall where he promptly began to work on an aerosol piece, which featured a giant, wide open mouth with razor sharp teeth and partnered with reptillian eyes to make it look as if the wall was alive, and next to it was a speech bubble which read "I feed off your wallets!".
// Gonna let you respond to that.
"You feed off of my walls?" Said a slightly puzzled voice from behind him. "Do you feed by applying these inks? I mush say this makes very little sense to me. "Wait ,wait, let me just.." the voice trailed off as the sounds of fumbling through pockets could be heard. The man leaned over Nate's shoulder and placed a monocle to his eye to observe the wall once more. "Ah, I see. A commentary on commercialism. How very droll." he made a tut-tutting noise. "Surely you must realize how very played out the snake symbolism is by now?"
When Nate would turn around he would behold a man dressed in an ostentatious, yet reserved style. Aside from the cape. No one wore a cape these days. What could he possibly be thinking? This man was clearly some kind of freak. A freak with delusions of grandeur his clothes alone would show this but his manner of speech served to drive home the fact. If Nate were to observe him for obvious weapons he would notice only a remote control held in one of his lower set of arms.
Anon turned around to spot the eccentric man, smirking out of amusement as he noticed the ridiculous attire he was wearing. He spoke in a calm voice which spoke of his age"Don't comment on the throwie when you ain't even handled paint, Monocle Man."The last two words were uttered in a sarcastic, mocking tone, and were soon followed by the graff artist shoving a sticker towards Tamerlane's chest which read "Used and abused, but never respected", Then, he began to walk away, toward's the store's exit.
As Anon turned toward the door, a man in a blue hoodie made his way in, hood drawn up, hands in his pockets. With only the lower half of his face lit, his only discernible feature was a toothy smirk that defied direction, focusing on anyone and everyone that looked it's way. As the two came close, a hand found it's way to the Graff artist's shoulder, and a voice broke through the sounds of the surrounding city. "Try to avoid putting people down for trying to survive kid, then maybe people will listen to your message." The hand left his shoulder, and the figure turned to talk to Anon's back. "Or maybe they'll just keep on ignoring the punk kid that keeps drawing on the walls."
Shrugging off the hand placed on his shoulder, Anon responded only by uttering a few words."As if a toy like you would ever understand."Stepping out onto the curb outside, he was met by a 1963 Chevy Imapala pulling up outside the storefront, it's driver a familiar face: Cesar. Approaching the car, Cesar held out a hand which Anon dapped, just another sign of the close bond between the two."Ey' vato, nice stunt you pulled outside of that lawyer's office. Was almost as good as that time you did a throwie on la jura's department building. Cop maricons never knew what as comin'."Anon smirked, nodding as he walked around to the other side of the car and hopped over the door."Ese, I know that look when I see it."Anon smirked once again, and Cesar soon followed."Aight vato, let's do this shit again. I'll drop you off outside la jura's parking lot, you find a way up."With that, Cesar began to accelerate, applying pressure to the pedal.
The garage doors slowly swung open as a low, rumbling sound was coming from inside. Slowly but surely, the Iron Steed rolled out of the shop and immediately sped away from the shop, the doors to the shop closing as the Mad Welder watched from his rear view mirror. The shop was designed to be secure enough in case Johnny ever had to leave on business or to have a break. Tonight was going to fall into the former category, but first, he had to find a more specific place to look. This time of day would be perfect to find people who would know details like this.
Three people were currently camped around a barrel fire, warming their hands and passing around what appeared to be a credit card and a straw. As one of them took the two and put the straw up to his nose, he noticed the other companions were staring slack-jawed in horror at something that appeared to be standing somewhere behind him.
"Oh shit, it ain't the cops, is it?"
"Well, apparently you fucks can spot a cop for a mile away, but a guy like me? He's a goddamn sneaky bastard in comparison. I dunno if that's impressive or outright depressing for you fools."
Turning around, the man would see himself face-to-face with the Mad Welder, his tarnished steel armour and welder's mask imposing on such a large figure. Everyone standing in front of the Mad Welder was right to be terrified of him: his reputation on the street is not exactly comforting to those who encounter him in person.
"L - look, we ain't done nothing wrong! We just - we'll move, if that's what -"
"Shut your damn mouth, you fucking rat" the Mad Welder snapped at the man in front of him. "There's a deal going on somewhere by the docks. I'm hoping one of you people have something to tell me about when and where exactly it's going down. Otherwise," he added as he looked down at the cocaine they were formerly sniffing, "I might just get real upset about the drugs y'all are getting yourselves off of."
"Nu-uh" a lady said to herself in a scratchy voice, twitching a little bit, "I'm not sticking around for this. I'm out of here -"
"You're not going anywhere" The Mad Welder says as he raises his arms at the woman, exposing what seemed to be a wrist-mounted flamethrower, "Not until I get what I need. And I need a time and place."
"Those men, you don't fuck with them -"
"But you're gonna fuck with me? I understand burning to death ain't exactly a nice way to go out; painful as hell, even. So walk back here, and don't make no funny moves..."
Nodding slowly at the Mad Welder, the lady slowly started walking back to the three of them, making sure not to move too quickly. However, her nerves were shooting all through her body, and she was panicking a lot. As she got closer to the Mad Welder, her wrist suddenly jolted -
Without hesitation, the Mad Welder torched the lady, keeping the flames on her as she shrieked in pain before eventually succumbing to her burn wounds and dying on the ground. Horrified, another man swung his fist at the Mad Welder, only to get a shield to the skull multiple times. Turning away, the last man desperately tried to flee from the Welder, only to realize he was picking him up from the ground with just one arm.
"You god-damn psycho!" He shouted at the Mad Welder. "You killed them both! Marley - she was just a twitchy girl!"
"She was twitchy, huh? Well, I'm a really fucking irritable man myself. I'm kinda surprised I didn't straight up kill you back there, what with all the action that was going on. For that matter, I don't even really care if I do it now. You're a low-life scumbag like hundreds of others in this city. Nobody's gonna miss you... especially Marley. But hey, at least I have hundreds of other people who can tell me where this meeting is going down, saves me a lot of time if people don't co-operate with me -"
"All right! All right!" He moaned, tears nearly streaming down his face, "I'll show you the place! Just - just don't kill me!"
After a moment of hesitation, the Welder put the man back down on the ground. Rubbing his shoulders, he made his way to the passenger side of the Iron Steed, struggling to get the car door open. Just then, a hammer slammed just right by his face, causing the man to nearly jump off his feet and into the Mad Welder, who was ominously leaning over him.
"Now my memory might be a little rusty... but who said anything about you getting in MY car?"