Pre-1959 Raised in the northwest, his family moved to Empire City to start a new life. after several years his parent split and slowly his home life deteriorated. His Mother moved back west to become "A Star" where she was never heard from again. His father a Drunk worked at the factory twelve hours a day everyday. The time he spent not working he filled with either drinking or eating.

Growing up he saw police officers as idols and did his best to do well in school to hopefully one day attend the academy. After highschool, age 17, he was turned down due to his questionable citizen ship. For a price he could join, $5,000. For a short while he tried to earn the money but in the end decided to fight crime on his own.

1959 He wore a green cape, a black eye mask and welding gloves and went by Quick Punch Kid. He fought small time criminals for almost a year until he got his first real break. While out on patrol he caught two men breaking into the bank the security guard lay knocked unconscious outside the doors. He quickly retrieved the mans revolver and headed inside. What happened next would change his life. in self defense he shot and killed on of the suspects. while seriously wounding the other. Afterwards he got his 60 seconds of fame. He was a small celebrity with his own comic book that had two issues before being shut down.

1960 - Then Vietnam broke out and with it his fame left. He joined up with the Army and volunteered to be apart of a new military unit.

He spent eight months religiously training, and being trained. He was put into an outfit called "Hero Squad" They were the tip of the spear leading the assault their identities were concealed behind masks, he wore his traditional one, it now being made out of a smooth metal. They were the moral boosters. And elite fighters, if one died another would take his place with out anyone aware of what had taken place.

1960-1965 His squad was in over three hundred individual engagements, and countless covert ops operations. One of his rotations stateside he met a girl, who he fell in love with. His next trip home he had gotten her pregnant.

1966 - The woman he had been with gave birth to two children fraternal twins.

1968 The enemy was smart, agile and ready to do anything. He was stationed in Hue at the time giving a rally to help improve the moral of the 200 measly soldiers that resided there. What ensued happened to be the largest battle of the Vietnam war. They held out in the center of town for thirty days until their reinforcements had arrived by then the Vietnamese army was peaking at Seven thousand soldiers. Gary William Campbell at the time known as once again "Quick Punch Kid" led the counter assault , which lead to the massacre of nine thousand indigenous people. Civilians, soldiers alike were killed. After that battle he was simply known as "Hero of Hue" to the soldiers

1977 - finally being rotated out of the frey and back state side things had taken a turn for the different. The war had become incredibly unpopular in the last few years. Even with Americans on the winning side. Many gruesome photos had leaked out. Some included the Hero of Hue, and from then on. His Alter Ego The Quick Punch Man, became the Butcher, or Butcher of Hue.

1978 - As Vietnam Ended so did his squad with no more replacements he was the final member left. And as such he was again a momentarily sensation.

1977-1979 Following years he worked for the CIA in various countries almost spending no time in is real persona Gary William Campbell. He would follow the president as personal protection or he would be used as figure head to the veterans when it came to re-election. These two things also earned him the names "Kennedy's dog, and Overwatch" Though if he were asked he'd simply say "If you want to call me the butcher then do it, because that's what I did. But I'll never be another man's dog."

Present - He currently resides in a small single story house which he has filled with momentum of his past, Vietnam and his former family.

Empire City, it was without a single doubt the largest cest pit in all of America. Don't get me wrong, the city looks good, and she was built well, but what the brochure doesn't tell you is the part where it's ran by the Mob, the Mayor and his cabinet are naught but a figurehead for the families. All in all, it was a great place to take the family for a holiday, and leave without all your valuables and belongings. If you lived in this city, and nearly eight million people did, then you were one tough son of a bitch.

Me? I was a little different, I was tough yes, and even a killer. But I didn't kill just to exert my power, or oppress the masses. No, when I spill blood, it is justice. It's not exactly the kind of justice that is looked upon, but it's the kind that is more than necessary to clean up a city like this.

Not that I'm helping, I've lived here my whole life, went through school here and even had a brief stint as a hero, but lets just say that didn't work out well for me. But everytime I kill someone, who ever takes their place is tens times worse. Well that's not strictly true, by that logic whoever is running the streets nowaday should be Satan, and last I checked, he's not. Tony Gambetti may be many things, but sadly he is not Satan. If he were, then the Church could just declare a crusade against him, or whatever it is that a church does.

Speaking of Tony Gambetti, that brings me back to the right now. I had been stalking his son for the past few days in the hope that he would pay his father a visit, this letting me know where the old chut lived. But alas, it was if fate was not in my favour, as all he did was go from bar to bar, and sniff a line of coke the length of the Mexican border. I had watched him do unspeakable things, and it had led me to nothing.

It's gotten to the point where I just want to end his sorry excuse of a life. Kill him before he can hurt anyone else, and piss of the old guy even more. The past year I had been targeting the Gambettis hard, killing his men every chance I'd gotten. But that'd just made him all the more paranoid. He was more reserved about his actions, and kept his useful pawns close, but not his son. No, no, Tony Gambetti Jr., he was a free spirit, as the saying goes. He just didn't care about what his dear father wanted for him,

Which is truly a shame, I've never been a fan of bad break ups. At least it'll be one arrow, it's all he deserved. Now, if he'd just hurry up and come out of this club I could finished this once and for all.

Gary, sat in is living room, gulping down the scotch he'd bought earlier. He was about ten fingers deep by now, the bottle was looking more and more empty by the minute. Occasionally he'd get up and re-set the record. It was Credence Clear Water Revival, he'd listened to the same record at least a hundred times now. He was waiting for a phone call one from the mayor. He was a joke, on the political spectrum he was literally dust. OverWatch usually worked for people like Congressmen, and the President, actually mostly the president. But recently he'd received little to no jobs. Only lowly scumbags would ask him for favors. Favors payed in Cash. But anyway the mayor was having some troubles with a local who was harassing some of his "friends" He'd no doubt be called at some point in the next few days. There wasn't much for him to do but wait. His Uniform hung up on the wall. It stared into his soul, spoke to him. It reminded him of the bad times, it reminded him of the good times.

He'd spent many hours in the old thing, he'd been through the jungles of Vietnam, Cambodia, Deserts of Iraq, Afghanistan, Africa, The cold of Siberia. He'd seen most of the world and been in over fifty countries. Sometimes for a month, sometimes for less. It didn't matter. He lost a lot of his friends, He'd been to hell and back, then went back for several more vacations. His body was worn and tired. He was an master Hand to hand combatant, an excellent shot with almost any gun. But at this ripe old age, of 38 he couldn't figure out if anything had been worth it. He had two kids who were Fifteen years old, he'd met them once. When they were still babies. HE probably should have tried to be in their life more. He payed their mother a hefty sum of money to stay afloat. They already had their college paid for and had a trust fund set up for them if he died.

It he flipped open the lid on the box that sat next to the almost empty scotch, he plucked out a Cigar he made short work of the preparation, clipping the end, jamming it between his lips. Gary Stuck a match and puffed patiently until he had a good ember. He pooled the smoke in his mouth tasting the quality of tobacco. They'd been taken from Cuban. He had several boxes similar to this one. Something he picked up when he was in cuba, dealing with a certain Dictator. His mind slowly moved from Subject to subject, until another hour had passed. His scotch was empty, his cigar was nothing but a smoldering nub between his teeth. If Nothing happened past 3 am when the bars closed he could go about his business. It was approaching fast, as the time currently was 1:20 AM. If nothing happened maybe he'd go out and look for some criminals to rough up, he'd felt cooped up for days.

Money was tight, but then again, when wasn't it. Raising two kids in the run down area of a third world country wasn't exactly a cake walk when neither parent can get a job. The dad had gotten involved in some kind of pyrmaid scheme, quitting the one job he managed to secure only to get screwed over, and the mother who couldn't be bothered to learn the language, and spent her time wishing of returning to her home city in America, Sunset Strip. It seemed like a miracle when me and my twin brother were chosen to take part in a study that would pay a grand amount of money. The organization claimed to be some branch of the government, but that didn't really concern Kyle's parents, they heard money and took it.

Kyle and his twin were put through a number of intelligence test, emotional evaluations, and were explained the concept of a almost psychic link twins can have. He seemed indifferent, but could feel that his twin was confused and scared about the situation, which in a way confirmed the supposed link the people testing were looking for. They sought to strengthen this link, and gave him and his twin a number of chemical mixtures and odd foods to try and do so. As these tests went on, Kyle began to notice more of his brothers thought, his uncomfort, his concerns, the fact he was feeling sick. Not long after, his brother became very sick, eventually falling into a comma. When the comma hit, Kyle realized it was no longer just his brothers thoughts he felt or heard, his parents, some of the test givers, he started to see into their mind.

After a month of continued testing, his brother died, and the project abandoned. Kyle and his family used the money to return to his mothers former home, Sunset Strip, although it wasn't all she remembered. Crime and ghettos had spread, although the main strip and a few key locations were nice, you could hardly call it the dream land his mother had described. Kyle began to train and learn about his skills, seeing what he could learn, how far into a mind he could dive, and what possibilities this could lead to. While expanding his skills, he began to catch thoughts of supposed super hero and how people wanted them to help save this city. Kyle wondered how their could be people in this world doing things to make it better. Kyle realized that he could use his powers for this, he could become stronger, and save people like these supposed hero's do.

Not long after, he convinced his dad, who always seemed desperate to please after his brothers death, took him to a boxing match, were he put his mind skill to the test and learned all he could about boxing, then trained with that knowledge. Between his new mind skills and boxing prowess, he tried to become the hero people felt the city wanted.

Empire City, New York, 1976

Useless.

Rachel stared at the walls of the apartment she had moved into the day before. Her knuckles still throbbed unpleasantly, though it had been several hours since... since...

Part of her felt she should use her power. Smooth things over, send the more troublesome emotions to the background. Then she could think clearly about this.

She was done with pretending.

Rachel shoved a fist in her mouth to keep from screaming. She'd been so stupid, so afraid of acting; she could have stopped it years ago if she'd just ripped every memory out of his head the first time he fucked her–

She didn't want to think about it. Garrett didn't have to anymore. She wanted to forget—

Rachel blinked. It felt like she'd woken from a dream, the details rapidly fading. Garrett– her stepfather. Something about her stepfather. She was upset.

Using her power was second nature to her by now. Of course she was upset, she thought as her mind cleared. He'd been forcibly committed after entering a fugue state, and she had moved out. It was only natural. She must have dozed off, too tired from unpacking.

It didn't matter. She could always finish it tomorrow.

---

Present day

Rachel hid inside the warehouse and waited.

Six months earlier she'd interrupted a mugging in progress, paralysing the thug with a taser shock in the back. The couple hadn't seemed too familiar with her name; then again, all her previous fights had been with petty thieves and burglars. Not what she'd imagined when she first resolved to become a vigilante, but at least it was something.

Then he'd broken down, saying that he'd only wanted money for drugs. Luckily, the taser meant he couldn't move while she kept her hands on him and waited for his memories to open up to her. He hadn't been lying, so she'd only broken his right arm and removed the previous three weeks from his memory.

It would be a long time before she felt ready to take down one of the crime families. But she could at least take out one of their sources of money.

According to her sources, this was one of the major coordinating sites for the Gambettis' drug trafficking activities. Taking out the people here would cripple their operation considerably.

Around her, stacks of every drug she could think of, and the means of taking them. Syringes, needles, pipes...

She grabbed several syringes and began filling them with cocaine. It was only fitting that the dealers got a taste of their own medicine.

Empire City. My home. It's where I was born, where I went to school, where I had my first kiss. It's also where my father was killed.
I look at the clock on the old wall, Ten to midnight. It's nearly time.
My father was killed by Tony Gambetti, Empire City's infamous crimelord. He spreads crime through this city like a disease. But diseases can be cured. All they need is a surgeon
I glance back at the clock. It's midnight.
It's time.
I sheath my Katana and put on my kevlar and surgeons coat.
It's my first night as a Vigilante.
I better make it count

July 1945: Tyler Joe Pavoni sees the light of day for the first time in Empire City as the son of Sarah Pavoni, a dancer and Salvatore Pavoni, the consigliere for Don Antonelli, head of the Antonelli crime family. Tyler's father, predicts a bright future for his son in the family, while his mother didn't approve of her son becoming a gangster but it's not like she could do anything about it.

September 1966: A 21 year old Tyler is told that if he wants to have a bright career in the Antonelli crime family then he should start low, with assassinations. Tyler accepted, and was given given his first assignment for the family. To kill Mike Johnson, an investigative journalist for the Empire City Times newspaper who started sticking his nose where it didn't belong. Tyler made short work of the man. One morning he waited for him to come out of the building where he was living in. After he did that, Tyler started following the man discretely and once he had the opening he needed, he pulled out a Smith & Wesson revolver and shot the man two times in the chest and once in the head.

February 1967: Satisfied by the work of the son of his consigliere, Don Antonelli continued to use Tyler for various dirty jobs. On the 21st of February Tyler recieved his biggest job yet. Don Antonelli told him to kill the David DiNetto, a ruthless and arogant man. He was the underboss of the DiNetto crime family, who back then was at war with the Antonelli's. On the next day Tyler entered the same restaurant in which David was having lunch. Since the two families where at war, security for the underboss was tight, but they were all outside, in David's car. Tyler sat at a table close to David and ordered some soup. After finishing half of the soup bowl, Tyler put the spoon down and pulled out a double-barelled sawed off shotgun from the inside of his coat, pointing it at David and unloading both shells in him, one in his chest and the other in his face. After that he took advantage of the chaos that installed to get away safe as David's guards made their way inside, startled by the shootings. The death of their underboss was a heavy blow to the DiNetto's who agreed with the peace treaty that Don Antonelli proposed them.

May 1969: Tensions started to appear between Tyler's father and the underboss of the Antonelli's. By this time Tyler already became the family's favorite hitman, having killed no more then 12 people so far, all of them enemies of the Antonelli's or people that just didn't knew their place. He also earned the nickname Butcher because of the violent way that his victims ended.

June 1970: Tyler became the enforcer of the Antonelli crime family. Unfortunately his father, the consigliere, was still in conflict with the underboss, but they somehow managed to keep that away from the ears of the Don. Tyler found out and tried to put an end to their conflict but it was a waste of time. The hate between the two was just too big.

August 1971: Tensions between Tyler's father and the underboss reached a climax as Tyler's father, in an act of rage, killed the underboss. Don Antonelli was shocked by this enormous act of treason and killed the consigliere himself. After learning of this, Tyler's mother comitted suicide out of fear that she will be next. Knowing that he will suffer too for his father's act, Tyler decided to face the situation like a man. Don Antionelli decided not to kill Tyler or send him to prison for life, because of his good and faithful service over the years, but instead he took away his position as enforcer and forced him to leave Empire City, sending him to Sunset Strip with nothing but some clothes and 2000 $ and telling him that if he will ever come back he will be killed imidieatly.

December 1971: After beying banished to Sunset Strip by Don Antonelli Tyler didn't waste no time and continued his life of crime, since it was the fastest way to get out of the mud he was in. In his first four months that he spent here, Tyler did the dirty work of alot of people. He wasn't very proud of it but he was aware that if you wanna get high you gotta start low first. And like that wasn't bad enough he was also arrested and imprisoned for assault and battery on the 11th of December.

December 1974: Tyler was released from prison. During the time spent there he learned Jeet Kune Do, Bruce Lee's mixed martial arts style from his cellmate, an african-american by his name, Wesley Jameson with whom he became good friends with. The man also told him about a cuban drug lord called Alejandro Santoro, who is looking for dealers to sell drugs for him. He also told Tyler where he can find Santoro.

January 1975: It didn't take long for Tyler to earn Santoro's trust. After getting rid of some problems for him, Tyler earned the man's respect and Santoro accepted him as one of his dealers.

October 1975: By this time Tyler already became one of Santoro's best drug dealers. Although he was an expert in killing, not dealing, most of the drug money that Santoro was making was now coming from him. Slowly but surely, Tyler earned more and more influence within Santoro's ranks, as Tyler helped Santoro become the most powerful drug dealer in the city. At the same time, Tyler also started having dreams of power. He wanted everything that Alejandro Santoro had. The money, the mansion, the cars, the power, the connections, everything. And he was willing to do whatever for them.

January 1976: Tyler decides to make the first step in getting his hands on Santoro's empire. He killed Santoro's son. On January 23rd, Jesse Santoro was killed by a sniper from atop of a building. He was shot in the head and died instantly. The sniper was nonother then Tyler himself, disguised so he won't be recognised.

May 1976: Santoro's son has been dead for four months now. Santoro took his son's death really hard. Although he was a bastard, Santoro loved his son and dreamed that one day he would be master over all he has. Things were going exactly in the direction that Tyler wanted. The only person that could stop him from getting his hands on Santoro's drug empire was now dead and Santoro himself, aged 66, had a very bad health situation. Exactly on the last day of the month, the 31st of May, Alejandro Santoro was murdered after Tyler suffocated him with a pillow while he was sleeping. Of course nobody knows that especially since Santoro's health was bad anyway. Everybody thinks he died naturally. After that Tyler had no problem seizing power, since no one stood in his way, as for Santoro's henchmen, Tyler, a charismatic person by nature, had no problem getting them to follow him just as good as they followed the late Alejandro Santoro.

Present day, 1979: It's been eight years since Tyler Pavoni was banished from Empire City as a means of punishment for what his father, Don Antonelli's consigliere did. After getting his hands on the late Alejandro Santoro's empire three years ago, Tyler kept consolidating his power, becoming the most powerful and feared drug lord in Sunset Strip. He also released Wesley Jameson from prison and made him his partner, his 2nd in command. Besides that, the police dosen't dare to interfere in Tyler's business, mostly because many of them are crooked cops following Tyler's orders and recieving handsome money for that. The few honest cops in the city are too afraid for their families sake to do anything against him. While everything is going exactly in the direction that Tyler wanted, he never really forgot what Don Antonelli did to him. He thinks about that alot.

Four muggings - Four hospitalizations. Two robberies, three attempted murders, and twenty-eight drug deals - forty-two incarcerations. One attempted rape...

One massive jaw reconstruction.

Typical week in Empire City.

For every crime stopped in this city, it felt like there were three more in progress. While Carter never felt at a loss for something to do, it seemed as if he was less of a barrier, and naught but a boulder in the river, adjusting the tide, but only temporarily. He needed to fix the hole in the dam.

There was only one name that consistently sprung up throughout the past few months, all over the Lower West Side. - Tony Gambetti.

Honestly, Carter hadn't a clue who the man was personally, but he knew the name was important. Gambetti was the new don of the Castelvetrano family, who themselves were looking to become the unseen hands of Empire City, flipping the switches in the dark, and making sure that everything was flowing smoothly.

Anyone with half-a-brain knew that the mayor, hell, even the entire Empire City Council - They were nothing but figureheads. Puppets. Public faces for the city's true governors.

Tony Gambetti, Empire City's newest political marionette.

Ever since the "disappearance" of his predecessor a couple years back, Gambetti had really tightened his grip, especially on the Lower West.

This made perfect fiscal sense, of course - With the reins of the shipping harbor strictly in his control, the family would control not only the majority of Empire imports and exports, he'd also have straight access to the surrounding states, and access meant more shipments, more shipments meant more control, and more control meant more money.

It was clear, at least to Carter, that anything that may, at the least, slow Gambetti down... That was a good thing. But he had to make sure that it wouldn't severely cripple the surrounding industries as he went about it. That meant that high explosives were out of the question.

While the Castelvetranos had fingers in just about everything, their staple export was the supply and distribution of cocaine, among other substances. Carter had been monitoring Dock 160 throughout this month, one of his perps having tipped him off that there may be something worth looking into there, in exchange for Carter not punching the fellow's teeth down his throat.

I'll have to remember to send that punk a thank you card.

Carter had climbed his way onto one of the containier cranes, watching the dock from above. It was surprising to him how arrogant the mob could be, that they didn't seem to ever look up through their series of skylight windows.

When you already think you're invincible, it's then that the cracks in your armor start to appear.

In the past year, he'd been able to be nothing but a random nuisance, a thorn in the sides of criminals throughout the West End, but not focused on any one group in particular.

Last year, they'd started calling him "The Walking Riot" - The name still made him chuckle, but it seemed to fit. If the criminals were the ones in charge, then it was clear enough to Carter.

A Riot was exactly what was needed.

It was nearing late afternoon, but Carter hadn't yet seen anything worth pursuing. Sure, he could leap down and bust a bunch of minor distributors, but that would only alert the Castelvetranos that he was targeting them specifically.

Instead, he needed one of the lieutenants. He needed someone that he could really get some genuine information out of, instead of relying on just heresay and second-guessing. Carter just kept an eye out as the sun continued to dip lower over the horizon.

Night's coming, I've got to get out of here to go help the kids play nice.

And then, he saw something new.

Garbed in black, brown and gray, a masked figure made its way towards the Dock 160 warehouse. Carter focused his binoculors, and watched this person - A woman, stealthily sneaking to the back door, before cracking open the lock and slipping inside. She made short work of the distributors inside, knocking them out with what looked like little but a baton and a taser.

Now that's impressive.

With her opponents down, she deliberately wandered towards one of the stacks, and picked up several syringes. She turned away, and Carter couldn't get a look at what she was doing, until she turned back, a syringe in each hand, a thumb on each plunger.

Aw, damn it. She's going to kill them.

Checking his grapple line, Carter unclipped a heavy red smoke grenade from his belt, along with a flashbang. After one more pull, he tapped the side of his full-mask helmet to check the seal, pulled the pins, and tossed the two grenades down, directly through the skylight, landing them at the woman's feet.

As the two explosions sent smoke, light, and concussion through the warehouse, Carter leaped, gripping his grappel cord and sliding towards the roof. His boots shattered glass, and he landed on his feet, his shield impacting concrete directly in front of him, facing towards the woman in the mask.

"Now, now. I think there's plenty enough killing without your help, don't you?"

"WHERE IS GAMBETTI!?" I holler in the Gangsters face. He smells of cigarette smoke and hot dogs. Disgusting.

"WHERE IS GAMBETTI!?" I repeat, sending a stream of spit into the Gangsters face.

No answer

"WHERE IS GAMBETTI!?" I'm growing impatient

The man just stares at me

"YOU HAVE UNTIL THE COUNT OF 3"

"1.......2......."

"Okay....Okay.... I'll talk" Says the gangster, shivering with fear

"Empire city docks, Midnight" Says the gangster, sobbing "That's when his latest shipment of drugs are coming in"

"Pleasure doing businesses with you" I say just before I thrust my Katana into his chest

The Gangster looked no older than 17

Such a waste of a life

Reverb watched the man he had been tailing all night finally enter the underground bar, the two bouncers greeted him wearily. Reverb was watching from the fire escape just above the two, he watched and waited for a minute or so slowly letting out a sound similar to a low drull. The pair seemed to notice so he amped it up, thr one on the on the left clutched his head and the second began panting his heartbeat sped up, Reverb threw himself over the guard rail and landed in between the two. The right one reached into his belt line, likely to grab a firearm he never managed to draw it fully before Reverb kicked the manshand into his belt line causing him to fall to a knee. Reverb grabbed the mans head and slammed his knee into the mans jaw. He heard a distinctive shattering from the mans mouth, the other one approached from behind and took a wide swing. Reverb threw up his right arm to block the swing then gripped the top of the mans arm and pulled him over his should, when the man fell down he landed with his face towards Reverb. With his left hand he held him down and with his right slammed his metalic glove into the mans nose.

Reverb stood and walked down the steps and pushed open the metal door that led to the bar, he walked down a hallway lit with red light, he came to a curtain and pushed it aside looking inside. He instantly spotted his target, Benny Giva, the little fuck who had ordered so many kills and had broken so many homes. Reverb tensed and walked inside his bowstaff sat on the small of his back in its compact position. All eyes turned to watch as he entered, not often you saw some guy wearing a skin tight shirt with a red logo on it. After all most people here were here for the dancers so not all would be a problem when shit hit the fan. Reverb approached the bastard and his group of five or so friends. Reverb looked down at the little man and motioned for him to stand up.

"Can we fuckin help you fruit cake?" One of his friends said, he had a pony tail and a somewhat pudgey build.

"Tell shit breathe to get up he is coming with me," Reverb said calmly, the little man looked up and motioned to the two men nearest Reverb to get up and take care of him. One was ponytail and the other seemed to be fairly average, shorter than Reverb. Pony tail was on his right and the other on his left, Reverb grabbed his staff and twisted the center extending it, he brought it around from his left and conked the man in the back of his head. He tucked the staff into his arm then brougnt it up to break ponytails jaw then swung it around his entire body slamming ponytail in the back causing him to fall foward. By the time ponytail had hit the floor the other three were up, one pulled a knive and attempted a forward jab. Reverb easily avoided it and brought his fist down on the mans hand knocking the knife down, however it managed to cut along his forearm. Reverb brought his arm back and looked down at his wound, it spanned about 3 inches, he didnt like to see his own blood. He dived at the man his eblow outstretched, it slammed into the mans chest knocking him down. Reverb fell to the floor as well just as a man brought down a bar stool on his back, a grunt of pain accompanied Reverb as he stood tensely reaching to his back but upon bringing his arm just to shoulder level he threw his arms down in frustration.

"You fuck, who the fuck hits people with a bar stool?!" Reverb said in anger, he looked to see Benny leaving out the back. And decided it was getting about time to wrap this up, he twisted his bowstaff in the opposite way he had before and it retracted. He set it in its holster on the small of his back. He held his hands out to his sides and made them into little pistols, he looked down and then looked up bringing his hands up with his eyes looking at the two remaining friends. He brought his thumbs down and shot sound energy at the two, the blasts hit either in the chest knocking them to the back wall. With that Reverb ran out to the street and saw Benny running away down the sidewalk. Reverb began sprinting after him, trying to close the gap.

Kyle sat on the roof of his apartment complex. It served as one of the few places he could be far enough way to avoid too many accidental mind links, but also served as a reminder that the city was falling apart in places. Why am I even trying to save this place, why should I care? Kyle asked himself these questions a lot, and despite never having an answer, he felt as if he had a good reason for starting, and wasn't going to stop. He made his way back to the door and began to descend from the roof. He didn't have a set destination, but he felt the need to be out and about on the street. As he made his way down onto the street, he was met with tidbits of info entering his head. He tried to negate his mind link, but small things would still slip through.

He walked into a local gas station to grab a drink. As he walked in, he noticed a clerk who seemed annoyed with being alive, let alone at his job, and a few others. As he made his way to the back, he notcied another shopper, late high school it looked, stareing at the drinks oddly intensely. I'm gonna get caught. This phrase slipped through Kyles mind. Confused about the thought, he glanced around the store once more, the clerk, a middle aged man, using an atm, and the kid. Taking a guess, he formed a mind link with the kid. Why is that asshole taking so long getting a drink, I need to get this over with so I can pay this damn debt to that dealer. Jackass putting me in this position, and giving me a gun I've never used before. Kyle had the info he needed. He grabbed a drink and made his way to the front, the other man at the ATM had left leaving just the three of them. He mind linked with the clerk. Realizing the clerk hadn't taken any effort to look and remember his face, he linked with the kid and found he didn't try and learn his face as well. Taking a chance, Kyle threw a quick jab and hook, managing to knock out the clerk. He quickly pulled the mask he had tooked under his pants behind his shirt and put it on.

He turned and saw the kid had noticed the commotion. "You your that creepy mask guy pretending to be a hero." The kid said reaching for his gun. Kyle ran forward, reaching the kid as he tried to lift the gun, Kyle grabbed the kids hand with one hand, and threw a punch at the stomach, the hit caused him to drop the gun. Kyle pinned him against a wall. "You had debts to a dealer, for what?" Kyle asked.
"Why should I answer?" The kid asked in response.
"You don't need to." Kyle replied forming a more intense mind link with the kid, finding out his name was Marcus, owed a debt to a dealer for some kind of hallucinogen, and the location he was meeting the dealer. "Sorry Marcus." Kyle said before slugging him in the face knocking him out. Kyle mind linked the clerk as he left, finding out the surveillance in the store was fake. He slipped out the back and removed his mask and hid it away again. He had a dealer location, which meant he needed to tip the police, and be close enough to mind link the dealer in case he knows something. Kyle quickly set off towards 6th street, where the dealer would supposedly be.

I'd been waiting on top of this building for the better part of an hour, the sheer lack of anything to do had given me quite some of time to reflect on what I was about to do. It made me realise something. If I just kill Tony Jr and be done with it, I simply have a larger target on my head. That much I can live with that, it's not like the target on my head was small any ways. But just killing the kid wouldn't set the organization back, not unless I added a little spice to the pot. Personally, I like to think I was a good cook.

I stand up from my little hiding place, and look over the edge of the building, a limousine just pulled up to the side entrance of Club Vanadhar, there was barely anyone at the main entrance at this point any ways, but precaution never hurt. I see two well dressed men come out first, their hands ready to pull out weapons at the slightest chance of danger. They scan the area for a few moments, until they give the all clear and four more people comes out. One of them I recognized instantly as Tony Gambetti Jr, two pthers being the rest of his escort and the final one being some rather unlucky woman. What she was probably about to see would scar her for quite sometime.

I hoped she was high, or drunk out of her mind, that way she wouldn't have to remember this. I wasn't going to get hung up about this, Junior was not a kind man, he was rough, and not everyone liked that. This resulted in the girls having a bad chance of returning the next morning.

I turn my attention back to his escort, these men would hardly be the common grunts that harassed the locals, and from the look of it, these men had seen war. It's not like the US was without war, if anything that was their premium export. This allowed the Five families an abundant supply of people to recruit. These looked like they'd seen their fair share of the streets and knew what to look for. That being me of course.

There may be plenty of other Masks running around going after the Gambetti's, as a result ignoring the other families and the others who are encroaching on Empire, but when you've killed twenty-seven of their men, you tend to find yourself being rather hated by said people. Rumour had it that there was a seventy-five thousand dollar price on my head, I felt a little humbled that they'd go out of there way to hate me that much.

All five of them make their way into the limousine, this is my time. I pick myself up, giving the bow string a quick stretch, making sure it was up to the job. I had an arrow planned just for for this, I take a Bodkin arrow from my quicker, and notch it. Taking aim for the engine, with my aim steady and guaranteed, I loose the arrow at my target. With a draw weight of at least a hundred pounds of pressure, the arrow was launched at a considerable speed and impacted into the limo's engine with enough force to immediately immobilize the stationary vehicle.

It wasn't going anywhere now, I jump down on the fire-escape and notch a second arrow, and take aim ready for the first idiot to jump out and take me on. I hold my aim for a good thirty seconds, but no one comes out. Heh, too scared to face me? I quickly make my way down the fire-escape until I'm within range of jumping on the limo's roof. I take aim again, but no one shows themselves. This was becoming a little annoying, I wanted action not whatever you wanted to call this.

I could just fire into the limo's roof, but that would get me no where, and I needed someone alive to pass on the tale. I notch another arrow, and fire into the driver seat window, I wasn't sure if he was a civilian, or a trusted driver. Either way, he was dead. I could see his now lifeless body resting against the steering wheel, pressing down on the horn.

It was at this point that things got interesting, as Gambetti's men began firing into the roof, in a vain attempt at killing me. This was a wide alley way, and I was no where near where they wanted me to be. Judging by the rate of fire, they had pistols. I wanted to say Colts, but I wasn't a gun guy, This meant they ran out of rounds after a few seconds of fire, this of course meant they had to do this little thing called reload.

I dropped my bow, pulled out two arrows and jumped onto the roof and dived throw the sky-roof. Landing right inside of the limo, There was a moment of shock, as everyone tried to comprehend the situation. I would bet good money they hadn't expected this, his escorts quickly tried to reload their weapons, but I acted fast. I dove at one, slashing his throat with one arrow, I turn and throw my second arrow into the gut of the second man. I draw and throw two throwing knifes, one was at the heart of one escort, while the second was aimed at the last escort's fun hand. He would be the one who lived.

Junior was in shock the whole time, he might have acted all tough and mighty, but this was probably the first time he'd seen action, so to speak. I make my way over to the immobilised escort, as he tries to pull the knife out of his hand. "Non, non." I speak, ripping the knife from his hand, his roar of pain giving me a sweet little tingle. Then I jabbed it into his other hand, he'd never be able to hold a gun in life again. Truly, I was a monster.

I turned my attention to Junior, the girl was clung to him, hoping for some form of salvation, but she would not get any from him of all people. He was even holding a gun, but he was nineteen, maybe twenty, he'd already pissed his pants. I look at her, and nudge my head at the door. "Go." She doesn't wait for me to say it again, and is gone forever. "Now you, Tony Gambetti Jr. you have been a real naughty boy, you know that?" as I finish, I drive an arrow into his left leg. I take this time to remove the gun from his grasp, I didn't need getting shot because his finger muscles flinched.

"Y-y-you." he stutters, unable to say much else out of fear and pain.

"Yes, me." Usually at this point, I'd just kill him and be done with it, but the spice demanded I prolong this. "You want to know why I've done this to you, and your father's organization?" he takes no action to respond, shock was a helluva drug. "The Irish." I state in a terrible Irish accent. It was a lie, If anything the South-Side Club House, ran by Paddy McCormack was worse than Tony Gambetti, the Irish where just more respected and than feared. "They pay me a hundred big ones, and I come to Empire and wreck your shit." I let out a snort, then I rip the arrow out of his leg and drive into his right eye.

Death would have been instant, but the past few minutes would have made this a traumatizing death enough. I was satisfied with my actions today, a job well done. I look behind me to see the carnage I'd unfolded, the death count rose from twenty-seven, to thirty-two. There was a was a fair amount of blood all over the insides, I was even covered in some of it. I would have taken more time to admire my handy work, if it weren't for the sounds of police sirens in the background getting ever closer. I wasn't afraid to kill cops, I just didn't need the trouble today.

I require my bow, and get the hell out of dodge. Eagerly awaiting the morning papers headlines.

“Always cutting of loose ends” I said with discontent in my voice. “You know if you cut off all of your ends you’re left with nothing?” He looked at me blankly; “You people just never learn do you.” I took a photo from the pocket of my cloak and knelt down to the chair he was tied to. “Now, this woman was stabbed in the street by you or one of your thugs; because she was a loose end, THAT WAS YOUR EXCUSE?” He tried to defend himself but was silenced by a fist to the throat. “You don’t deserve death.” I grabbed my sack of treasures and drew my signature on the wall. I rang the local police on his phone, And disappeared into the shadows.
Upon appearing on the other side of the wall I was greeted by the familiar face of the local gang chief. “You….You’re the one….”
“Yes I’m the one” I stepped forward and continued “I’m the one who killed your brother, I’m the one who made you bankrupt, I’m the who’s going to set things straight with this city.” 4 goons appeared from the darkness, two in front two behind. “Oh you’ve made a mistake my friend for my ally is darkness.” There was a flick of a switch and the whole place was pitch black. There were two scenarios the goons would run or shoot blindly into the dark, whilst the gang chief fled. They choose scenario 2. Rounds flew everywhere. I sprinted at the two in front and took their feet from under them whilst sank into The floor below. It was now catching the guy. I caught up with him on the dock outside the apartments. I grabbed him and threw him against the boards. "Now then I do hope you will Co operate more than the other one, perhaps you can tell me why you killed this woman" again taking out the picture and showing it to him. He stared at me blankly then took a deep breath. "She was a drugs carrier she was meant to deliver them to a man at this address” he handed me a note and continued; “So you’ve got what you want now right, i can go now right?” i got up and turned to the house “of course, I’m sure the police will give you a lift home.” with that i went back to my apartment to go check out the address

Rachel had hardly finished filling the fifth syringe before something metal landed at her feet. It was dark inside, but the general shape flashed into her consciousness. A grenade!

She dropped the syringe and barely managed to dive for cover before it went off. Smoke billowed around her, her ears rang and she couldn't see Either the dealers knew she was here or some other masked guy had gotten the same idea as her. She hoped it was the latter: taking out two guards who were already slightly sleepy was one thing. Facing off against six or seven men was another.

"...enough killing without your help, don't you?"

Rachel stood, dusting herself off absently. The man in front of her was tall, built like a linebacker. He carried a riot shield and more tools than she'd ever used in three years. Riot? She'd heard the rumours. A vigilante, like her. She'd talk to him.

"They deserve it," she said. Clipped, precise tones; the way she remembered her English teacher's voice. "Acceptable targets, yes? Only the junkies will miss them. Gambetti will just be annoyed."

"They deserve it," she said. Her voice sounded educated - It was as if she'd spent her years in some English boarding school drumming the colloquialism out of her speech.

Carter thought on this. Though she was probably correct, he still couldn't bring himself to kill someone if he could avoid it.

A sentiment apparently not shared by Miss Sunshine, here.

"It's probably good that the whole lot of us don't get exactly what we deserve," Carter replied coolly. He surveyed the area, taking note of his surroundings. There was quite an array of paraphenilia laid out across the tables, from pipes to powders, beakers to blunts. It was a regular junkie's paradise.

He leaned on his shield as he reached down, picking up one of the syringes that the woman had been carrying, filled with an amber liquid.

Cocaine.

"Now that's some poetice justice, isn't it?"

"Acceptable targets, yes?" Replied the woman. "Only the junkies will miss them."

"That's not the point," replied Carter. He turned the needle, and pressed the plunger, emptying its contents onto the floor before tossing the plastic container across the warehouse.

"These kinds of raids won't get us anywhere. Not unless all of us are able to find some significant information. Taking out a couple of low-lives, even burning a distribution warehouse like this to the ground... That's just pennies for the Castelvatranos."

She seemed to agree. "Gambetti will just be annoyed."

"Exactly. Thing is, if we start striking all on the Family at once, they're going to realize they've got a problem with us 'unlawful lawfuls' - They'll start peeling off masks faster than a masquerade prom night."

Carter walked his way over to the unconcious guards, and grabbed the first by the back of his collar, lifting him up, and over to one of the walls. The second one, he did the same, leaning them both side by side against the wall.

"These low-level mooks, they don't know anything. We need to bait a hook for something a little bigger."

He reached over to his pack, and removed a small device.

Let's just hope you talk to someone interesting.

Carter placed the device underneath the second man's collar, securely attached, but out of sight.

"There's more to be gained from leaving these scum alive than dead. Dead men tell no tales, as it were. But live ones... They tell all kinds of stories."

He stood, and faced her again, offering a brief salute before extending his hand.

"These dirtbags call me Riot, which is a good enough name as any. You?"

SOME TIME AGO - LOWER WEST SIDE, EMPIRE CITY

It doesn't matter if you're a cop or PI, the rules are the same - You don't get anywhere without a lead.

Carter always seemed to go through waves. Sometimes, he really felt like he was making a difference, like when he saved the kid from a burning building last week. That was a clear good.

And then, there was the flipside - Dealing with the dealers all across the Lower West. Drug traffic had no moral compass, no code. It simply went to wherever the money was. The issue at hand now, though, was that that money was becoming more and more difficult for the common folks to get hold of.

With more organized crime hustling in on the area, legitimate businesses were having to face rather a rather simple choice.

Pay protection, or pack up.

As if these people ever really have a choice in the matter.

Over the past year, there had been quite a few rumblings in the underground - The don of the Castelvatrano Family had been killed, and there were rumors that a newcomer was pulling the strings, though the name hadn't really been circulated much, yet.

It was obvious that the organization was somewhat neutered for a bit, which offered too many of these minor crew leaders a chance to "prove themselves."

Little Lords looking for the Kingship, it seems.

Tonight, Carter was just on patrol. He'd heard on the scanners that there had been several homicides in this area over the past couple of weeks which on their own, wouldn't have been too surprising. It was the similarities of the murders, however, that started Carter on making some connections.

Almost always slit throats, put on display. Message killings. The victims almost all had connections to organized crime, which meant that someone was either cleaning house or looking to show off. But Carter wasn't exactly concerned with the murder victims themselves. Wrong begets wrong, after all.

The problem is, even criminals have families.

Whomever was responsible was performing these murders in private homes. They were terrorizing families on purpose - And that was something that could not be allowed.

Carter looked up at the night sky as a couple raindrops fell onto his head. It was going to be a wet night. Standing on the roof, he reached down and hefted his helmet before pulling it onto his head. A couple button pushes later, his internal displays popped up, giving him a readout of police scans in the area. Nothing yet.

Wait for it...

The shout echoed out of the building just below him.

"You fuck! Who the fuck hits people with a bar stool!?"

Carter looked over the edge to see a smaller man barrel out of a red-light bar's back door, obviously in a hurry. He was moving fast, but kept checking over his shoulder, as if a monster was following.

Then the door opened a second time. Carter recognized the red symbol on the man's chest immediately.

Reverb.

This guy had been on the police radar for months, and the underground world even longer - a wild-card crazy who no one could really pin down the loyalties on. He was young, Carter guessed just past twenty. And it was clear he was plenty angry, possibly from the particularly nasty gash on his arm.

The risks of a skin-tight suit, I guess.

Reverb took off out the door, sprinting after the man that had left the bar earlier. He ran at full speed, but Carter noticed that his quarry had actually ducked into an alley just out of sight. The red-and-black vigilante looked like he would sprint right by.

It would be a shame if these two missed each other.

With the use of his heavy grapple, Carter ziplined across the street. He noticed that Reverb's prey was backing away from the street, apparently hoping not to be seen by the maniac in tights. Carter was getting close, and leaped from the zipline, landing with a roll, and grinding to a halt directly behind the man.

His boots slid on the alley gravel before he stopped, and stood, at least two feet taller than his new conversational companion.

"Good evening," said the man in the helmet. "You seem to have lost your way."

He had fallen asleep in his chair and woke early in the morning to the phone ringing angrily. He got up and trudged to the kitchen, where the phone made its home. He answered "Hello?" A man's voice one, he was yelling and yelling so hard his voice was becoming high pitched. " WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN THEY KILLED TONY'S KID, AND YOU WEREN'T THERE TO PROTECT HIM. YOU'RE A DEAD MAN, I'M GOING TO BURN YOU TO THE GROUND I'M GOING TO GLASS YOU LIKE THE KOREANS." He didn't care really, he was threatened on the daily basis it seems like. " Calm down, Jim. Do you know who did it?" There was a long pause, obviously he needed to catch his breath. " Yea, his name is fuck'n BlackBolt." Gary Paused for what seemed like forever "Fucking BlackBolt...?" Then the yelling ensued again. "NO YOU PIECE OF SHOT DON'T YOU GO GIVING ME A ROUGH TIME I'VE ALREADY GOT A LOT ON MY PLATE WITH THIS BULL SHIT I DON'T NEED ANY FROM YOU." He chuckled a little " Jim, Jim... JIM Calm the hell down. I'll take care of it. I'll go see what I can find on the guy. I'm guessing no one's alive to give me any details?" The Mayor seemed to be very out of breath " Uh, yea, some prostitute by the name of Lemon Drop. Can you believe that fuckin name? Its ridiculous. But I gotta go Mr. Quick Punc-" HE was cut short " I'm not the Quick Punch anymore, call me Overwatch." They said their goodbyes and hung up the phone.

He went back to his living room, cleaning up the bottle and ashtray. He dumped them into the garbage and made his way to his room, where he'd suite up. He slid down the bullet proof vest over his head strapping it at his waist, he slid his hip holsters on, dawned his mask and rocked black cargo pants. He went to his gun vault pulling out his trusted 1897 Winchester. The Scatter gun had been with him for most of his life now. He strapped on a bandolier, and added extra mags to his waist belt. He plucked out two flash bangs, and a single frag. Of course he only carried all of this as a precaution. Mr. Gambitti tended to be a loose canon, he couldn't tell if the threat was real or not. So he went prepared. He quickly pulled out his eyemask from a pocket on the vest and slid it on. He moved to the garage, through a side door on the house. Inside it was empty, but after pulling up the grates that were meant for engine oil, it exposed a small ladder well, he climbed down to a sub garage, there inside was a modest collection of vehicles. A 1969 Chevelle it had armored plating all around, a spruced up 454 big block, bullet proof glass, and a bull bar on the front, with off road lights. It sat higher than a normal car and had off road tires. He called it Redemption. Along with his car two motor cycles, a Another Armored Car, built by the British called a Daimler Ferret " Scout Car" It had been fitted with a 20mm canon. He had small guilder like plane which could be folded and stored.

He stepped into redemption, his thought process was to go visit this escort and find out where they'd been that night and if she'd gotten a good look at the perpetrator. He drove down the long corridor, it was apart of a subway system that never got built. And as a result he'd made his base apart of it. He made his way to the surface through an old parking garage in the slums no one ever parked here. HE got out and pushed the metal gate up that separated his hidden route from the outside world. Once up he creeped the car out and closed the gate. He took off like a bat out of hell, his foot was mashed against the metal as he drove, He was in Gambetti territory. And wouldn't be safe for long. He romped on the breaks and the car came to a squealing halt. There a local escort was headed home from a long night. " Hey, you." He shouted towards her, she stopped and looked, she looked like she was about to try and run. " My bullets faster than your feet in heels. I need some info, I've got about two hundred fifty bucks for you, if you can give me something decent." She came over to the car, bending in " Who's the girl who escaped from Tony Jrs" There was a pause then she spoke " Well... I heard she's down at the uh, ol' home.Ya know? Where we gos when we don't have enough money on our own?" He understood, a brothel. He gave her a simple nod, and then Tossed her the cash, and tore off down the street. He made his way to the known brothel, there was no need for stealth in the part of town. He got out, and knocked on the door.

"Exactly," the man replied. "Thing is, if we start striking all on the Family at once, they're going to realize they've got a problem with us 'unlawful lawfuls' - They'll start peeling off masks faster than a masquerade prom night."

Rachel frowned. She hated to admit it, but he had a point: there was no way she could wipe everyone they sent after her. Especially not if they sent a team.

He walked over to the unconscious guards and lifted each of them by the collar, propping them up against a nearby wall.

"These low-level mooks, they don't know anything. We need to bait a hook for something a little bigger."

For all his tools, the man was content to let these people go free? Like she'd done with the would-be mugger all those months ago. It wasn't people like him that were the problem, she knew that. It was the families, the ones in power. She'd suppressed that thought, convinced herself she was making a difference.

Now, it was coming back.

He reached over to his pack, and removed a small device, placing it under the collar of one of the men. A listening device? She wondered what his day job was, that allowed him to afford all those gadgets. Maybe she was looking in the wrong places.

"There's more to be gained from leaving these scum alive than dead. Dead men tell no tales, as it were. But live ones... They tell all kinds of stories." He turned to her and saluted, extending a hand.

"These dirtbags call me Riot, which is a good enough name as any. You?"

She inclined her head. An alliance? She'd always preferred patrolling by herself Perhaps taking down the crime families could be done sooner than she thought.

"Wisp," she said, extending her hand in reply.

"Wisp," replied the woman. Carter accepted the handshake. After some of the other... encounters that he'd had with other masks throughout the city, it was nice for one to go civilly for once.

"Should be easy to remember," said Carter, releasing her hand.

"Oh now, how cute. A little congratulations over a job well done."

Carter turned, noticing a silhouetted doorway at the opposite end of the warehouse. He could see one man standing there, the moonlight behind him shadowing his features. All except for the cigarette in his mouth, which glowed dimly.

Stupid! Stupid! You leave your guard down for a second...

Another voice, this time a woman continued the thought. She moved from behind the first, cutting an impressive figure. "Looks like we've got us some pests, Jazz."

"Too true, Jo," replied the first man. "Good thing I brought'sa some exterminators along."

Like wraiths from the shadows, the "exterminators" stepped forward, each with an automatic rifle in-hand. Carter counted at least twelve in the dark, but couldn't risk reaching up to turn on his night vision. No quick movements. At least, not yet.

About 15-men. 30-round clip AK-47s. Possible reload clips. This will not be fun.

"Put down your weapons, and you will not be hurt," said Carter slowly, the helmet masking his voice.

The boys laughed, as did Jo. Jazz, however, didn't even crack a smile. "Are you being serious? You thinking you can somehow survive a hit like this? Can you not count or something?"

"I'll warn you a second time," said Carter, his grip tightening on his shield handle. "Put the weapons down."

"I think the guy needs that helmet 'cause he's wrong in the head, Jazz.," Jo snickered.

"You may be right there, Jo," replied Jazz. He motioned for the others to move forward.

"Well, now," said the woman, Jo. "See-in's as we've got 'em standing here, I think we oughtta make an example, don'cha think, Jazz?"

Slowly, Carter reached his right hand back to his belt, and gripped a three-bang flash grenade.

"I think you're right there, Jo." The man, Jazz, took a last drag on his cigarette before flicking it towards the two vigilantes. "Boys - Let's show these masks what messin' with the Family'll do for your health."

Carter grit his teeth, his muscles ready to move.

3... 2... 1...

He pointed. "Light 'em up!"

Carter turned and tackled Wisp to the ground, sliding to a stop as he turned with the shield in front of them. Bullets began to ricochet off the shield's surface in every direction, as Carter tossed the grenade.

"Eyes closed!" Shouted Carter to Wisp. It was then that the entire warehouse lit up like the sun.

[DOUBLE POST]