Name:
Victor Knight
Age:
25 years young.
Alias:
Crisis
City of Operation:
He operates within New York, but has publically made an announcement that he, as Victor Knight, would be staying in Cleveland for the timebeing, to discuss political and funding matters with the city's officials. This has given him leverage in the city, along with a temporary housing/headquarters via a compound he bought quite easily- which he has already started securing and upgrading with the necessary equipment.
Psyche:
Crisis, as Victor Knight, is the standard confident, charismatic man you'd expect to see in a multi-billionaire CEO. Always with a smooth, flirtatious smirk and a constant glint in his eyes, Victor is known as a whip-smart, yet undeniably playboyish and psuedo-irresponsible man that loves the big things in life. He has had multiple - numerous female partners within the last year...at least, that's what the media believes, and he is justn over-all a smooth-timed playboy. He seems to care for others at a compassionate level, despite his womanizing manner, as he has given millions and millions of dollars into hospitals, disease studies, and orphanages/charities across the world. He is as much as a politician as he is a businessman, and Victor generally has a high position within today's world. As they say...Victor is a genius, billionaire, playboy philanthropist. Of course, this is only a faux personality...something that isn't truly him, at all.
At his core, and as Crisis, he drops the grin for an expression of concentration, and the slicked hair and Armani suit for a dark, lethal imagery. Darkly determined, intelligent, focused, and vengeful, Crisis gives both criminals and regular civilians nightmares. He doesn't talk during the job, finding it to be a waste of breath, but whenever he does; mainly to intimidate corrupt politicians or a group of fire-arm-wielding thugs, Crisis' words are deep, sharp, and fear-inspiring. His facial expressions barely shifts out of it's grim frown, and his emotions are incredibly hard to read and decipher - especially due to the helmet that obscures his identity away. Despite all of this, Crisis kills, threatens, and fights for one thing, and one thing only...and that is Justice. To clean the world, and rid it of it's natural impurities, one by one...to save helpless and helpful victims, from the shadows...even if they don't appreciate the method.
One thing is for sure...you wouldn't want to run into this masked vigilante in a dark alleyway.
At his core, and as Crisis, he drops the grin for an expression of concentration, and the slicked hair and Armani suit for a dark, lethal imagery. Darkly determined, intelligent, focused, and vengeful, Crisis gives both criminals and regular civilians nightmares. He doesn't talk during the job, finding it to be a waste of breath, but whenever he does; mainly to intimidate corrupt politicians or a group of fire-arm-wielding thugs, Crisis' words are deep, sharp, and fear-inspiring. His facial expressions barely shifts out of it's grim frown, and his emotions are incredibly hard to read and decipher - especially due to the helmet that obscures his identity away. Despite all of this, Crisis kills, threatens, and fights for one thing, and one thing only...and that is Justice. To clean the world, and rid it of it's natural impurities, one by one...to save helpless and helpful victims, from the shadows...even if they don't appreciate the method.
One thing is for sure...you wouldn't want to run into this masked vigilante in a dark alleyway.
Equipment:
Crisis Suit - His standard Vigilante costume/armor, used to prowl the streets as Crisis. The suit itself is composed of a hardy, lightweight, and customly synthesized Kevlar material for it's main component, with rubbed-down and insulated titanium for certain coating along vital areas. The suit has been tested and made sure to be bullet, pierce, and slash proof due to it's armored materials, along with being flame, explosion, and water-retardant. The helmet's visor is programmed with x-rays, infrared viewers, and auditory sensors. The helmet itself is programmed to plug into police and emergency department frequencies, along with having a miniature map of his current area in the visor's bottom left corner. The suit has a dark gray/mottled black utility belt on either hips, equipped with a variety of different gadgets, raining from scanners to smoke/explosion/freeze pellets.
Gadgets - A hero that believes in lethal force, Crisis holds a wide variety of different lethal equipment on his person, at all times. The gloves of his suit contains built-in grappling hook devices, launched directly from the underside of the wrist. The hooks are made of a razor-sharp steel alloy, allowing it to be used as weapons, traversing tools, and even restraints. A specific twist of the wrist will send a varied amount of volts of electricity through the metal wiring of the grappling hooks.
Along both sides of his rib-cages, tucked into the black Kevlar material, are various amounts of small, black, lethal throwing blades - each one made of light-weighted, hollowed steel alloy. As they are sewn and connected within the inside of his suit, wrapping around the inside of his back, taking one out of it's holster will push another one into the holster, from the inside, giving him a large amount of throwing knives to use to his discretion.
By far, his 'mainly-used' weapons are the two razor-sharp, dark-colored trench knives, magnetically holstered to his hips. They are rather mysterious in their own right, as the exact metal they are made of is unknown, and they can be recalled back to his gloved hands, as if by a magnetic force. Weighted perfectly, and made at the perfect length for close-ranged combat, these are tools of destruction.
He has many vehicles, both within his mansion, and within his Crisis Base, and he can cycle through them all for automatic-honing [A technique that brings the vehicle towards his personal signature at maximum speed] through his suit's control panel, located on either wrist. This technique is often used for fast get-aways, or even combat. His currently used vehicle is a customly-created motorcycle. Futuristic and a deep ebony, the motorcycle features a nitro-entailed engine, customly-bolstered gas mileage, and dermal armor all along it's base; along with a bullet-proof visor and tires.
Gadgets - A hero that believes in lethal force, Crisis holds a wide variety of different lethal equipment on his person, at all times. The gloves of his suit contains built-in grappling hook devices, launched directly from the underside of the wrist. The hooks are made of a razor-sharp steel alloy, allowing it to be used as weapons, traversing tools, and even restraints. A specific twist of the wrist will send a varied amount of volts of electricity through the metal wiring of the grappling hooks.
Along both sides of his rib-cages, tucked into the black Kevlar material, are various amounts of small, black, lethal throwing blades - each one made of light-weighted, hollowed steel alloy. As they are sewn and connected within the inside of his suit, wrapping around the inside of his back, taking one out of it's holster will push another one into the holster, from the inside, giving him a large amount of throwing knives to use to his discretion.
By far, his 'mainly-used' weapons are the two razor-sharp, dark-colored trench knives, magnetically holstered to his hips. They are rather mysterious in their own right, as the exact metal they are made of is unknown, and they can be recalled back to his gloved hands, as if by a magnetic force. Weighted perfectly, and made at the perfect length for close-ranged combat, these are tools of destruction.
He has many vehicles, both within his mansion, and within his Crisis Base, and he can cycle through them all for automatic-honing [A technique that brings the vehicle towards his personal signature at maximum speed] through his suit's control panel, located on either wrist. This technique is often used for fast get-aways, or even combat. His currently used vehicle is a customly-created motorcycle. Futuristic and a deep ebony, the motorcycle features a nitro-entailed engine, customly-bolstered gas mileage, and dermal armor all along it's base; along with a bullet-proof visor and tires.
Powers:
The rain-drops didn't bless him with some insane mind powers, or control over fire, or anything of that sort...but that doesn't matter. His body was simply changed that day, for the better...not that he was out of shape in the first place. To put it simply, he can now run faster and longer, hit harder and take hits harder, and heal at a faster rate than a Olympic-leveled human. However, it isn't enough to lift cars or punch through solid steel...in a technical term, he can bench-press over one ton, but with stress. His brain reacts at a quicker pace - enhanced reflexes, and he can hit things with accuracy second to none by non-super beings. His powers, to put in a simple term, is 'Above-Human Physical Prowess'. He doesn't have super-speed, or super-strength...just enhanced versions of said attributes.
Weaknesses:
Hm...let's see. Well, first off, Victor isn't a destructive ball of fire. Don't get me wrong...he can clear an entire warehouse of armed criminals faster than most super-power-wielding-heroes...but in a one on one fight with someone with, say, elemental-manipulation, he would need to be on his toes, and finish the fight quickly. He lacks the necessary powers to go head to head with such a foe, but a little tricking, and his superiority in skill would allow him to -hopefully- finish the person off...swiftly, and for all.
His caution could be a weakness. When he first see you, he immediately analyzes your form for weaknesses and exploits, even if he's Victor Knight, and not Crisis. He's too ready at times.
His methods of execution has also garnered Crisis a lot of haters and/or enemies, mainly in the form of law enforcement agencies and such. They don't know whether to label him villain or hero, since he only targets villains and criminals...but leaves them as bloodied, cooling corpses.
His caution could be a weakness. When he first see you, he immediately analyzes your form for weaknesses and exploits, even if he's Victor Knight, and not Crisis. He's too ready at times.
His methods of execution has also garnered Crisis a lot of haters and/or enemies, mainly in the form of law enforcement agencies and such. They don't know whether to label him villain or hero, since he only targets villains and criminals...but leaves them as bloodied, cooling corpses.
Skills/Talents:
His lack of destructive super-powers is hardly a crutch, seeing as Victor is a master of close quartered combat. He has mastered every fighting style currently known to man, using a blend of Krav Maga, ninjutsu, and Brazilian jiu-jitsu on his opponents. Along with this, he is an expert user of weaponry - having mastered his trench knives - a disguise expert, a talented liar, a technological genius, a master strategist, a polymath, an expert driver/crack pilot, an escapologist, along with a few other titles. A master of many, as they say.
History:
The crying of a baby boy was vibrant within the large, posh Knight Manor, and the scurrying of dozens of maids, butlers, and staff fumbled throughout the mansion's interior. A wisp of a man, with fraying blonde hair and a form-fitting suit, sat at the edge of the hospital bed, eyes wide and hands creaking under the pressure of a woman's grip. The woman breathed quickly and loudly, a scream tearing through her throat as the doctors around the comfortable bed yelled 'PUSH'. The woman was beautiful by all realms of the imagination, only subliminally marred by the sweat sticking her dark brown hair to her forehead. The entire situation was going smoothly, and only within seconds, they would garner an heir.
These two were Lance and Amelia Knight, respectively...both head owners of Knight Enterprises, which, in itself, was an international, multi-billion dollar company that span the globe, and one of the few, if not the top business expansions in the entire world, in both the present and the future. The two have been trying for an heir for the past three years, with minimal success. It was thought that Lance was sterile, since he had an attempted vasectomy in one of his youthful escapades decades ago, but that was proven wrong when Amelia was found pregnant those faithful months in the past. Now...their precious Victor would be borne. He would be born...and lead the Enterprises further into victor, with his parents at his back. It would be wonderful.
"PUSH!" Amelia pushed. The sound of young, squeaky crying abruptly filled the air, and relieved smiles formed on the faces of all those present. Amelia immediately reached for her precious baby, cobalt eyes twinkling in the dim candle-light of the Knight Private Hospital, and her smile widened as she noticed the dark brown and blonde hair, fleeting due to young age. When the eyes opened, revealing dark blue pools of royal navy, a squealed was released from all of the women doctors, Amelia amongst them. The doctors began filing out after a look from Lance - the slim man still holding an authorative intimidation. Standing, Lance sidled up to his wife's shoulders, slowly reaching forward to stoke the side of the baby's cheek. "Victor's beautiful, honey..." He whispered softly, a small smile on his lips as he kissed his wife's damp forehead. "...I love him...and I love you." The baby's crying had stopped, and the small family shared a warm hug.
Skip forward a few years. A young child, around four years old, squared off to a tall, buff man around middle-age. They were both shirtless, wearing gym shorts, with bright red boxing gloves tapered off at the wrist. With dark brown and blonde-peppered locks, the child had a deviously cute visage; a future heart-breaker in the beginning of his childish youth. A smirk was on his face, rather uncommon for little kids. Meanwhile, the older man had a mohawk and beard, with darker-toned skin, and a vibrant scar going down his left eye. His mouth was grinning, showing multiple golden teeth. This was all happening within what appeared to be a private gym, with multiple weight sets all around, and the two being within what seemed to be an ornate boxing ring. "Okay, kid, let's start with some light boxi-" The child had already crossed the ring, leaping up in the air, a gloved fist heading straight for the man's cheek. The smirk had stretched.
Yes, life for young Victor Knight...it was wonderful, all things considered. The youngest heir to a multi-billion dollar company, and the youngest scion to a filthy wealthy and rich family; with his mother being a world-renown scientist, physicist, and technician, while his father was a world-renown aerospace engineer, philanthropist, and businessman. Obviously, this gave him cockiness and arrogance in his life, but most of it wasn't mean-spirited arrogance, just the classic rich-kid-swagger. He got everything he wanted growing up. Toys, video-games, attention, private tutoring...he was a once in a life time prodigy. Everything he did, he mastered, and everything he didn't master, he spent hours upon hours on to master. He had a drive to be the best boy and future businessman he could be, and his parents supported their son wholeheartedly.
And then...that's when the trouble began brewing. As you know, such a...popular and spirited company and family would have life-long enemies, right? Well, at the age of eight, whilst practicing Taekwando with his bodyguard - the bearded and mohawked man that went by the joking name of Pop-Eye, panic seemed to surge within Knight Manor. Panic seemed to reign supreme; with butlers and maids running all throughout the manor. It made for a scene highly reminiscent to an event that happened approximately eight years ago. However, this was obviously not something that carefree and glorious. The sound of cracking, automated firearm usage suddenly blasted throughout the manor, as if coming from a distance, and it was slowly, slowly getting closer. From the door's window, before his eyes, with fear creeping down his throat, Victor witnessed a group of maids running down the hallway, before a constant barrage of lead slammed into their backs and heads, sending them reeling through the air, bodies becoming pin-cushions for the .40 bullets. Blood flashed across the door's window, and he flinched subconsciously.
He was abruptly thrown to the ground, as a rearing and shouting Pop-Eye slammed against the door shoulder-first, both large, calloused hands gripped around what seemed to be a .50 cal Desert Eagle, Bessie; Victor recognized it immediately, from training with the man. "Vic! Go hide in the safety room in the back of the gym...and don't come out until you hear my, Jeff's, or your parent's voice through the speakers!" The man grunted out in his usually deep, gravelly voice. He slowly opened the door, only to leap back, grabbing Victor with him, as two large, bulky men - bloodied and wielding assault rifles - shouldered through the openings. "Hey, Ross, look at what we have here-" The first man was abruptly cut off by a .50 cal bullet blasting through his cranium. Ross panic-squeezed his trigger at the loud CRACK, and the spray hit the ceiling. Another CRACK echoed, and he was lying on the floor, a hole leaking gray brain matter across the marble.
Victor just...just stared blankly at the bodies. The way the blood slowly congealed on the floor, bits of bone chips literally the wall and door hinge. It was all...just...disgusting. Pop-Eye glanced over from where he had his ear pressed against the wall. The sound of stomping feet and wild yelling didn't fill him with confidence. "Come on, kid, we need to get to you to a safe place!" There was hesitation in the deep voice. He was worried if Victor was in shock. The boy shook his head sharply, bending down with shaking hands and eyes. His ward pretended not to notice the boy grabbing a familiar combat-knife from Ross's hip.
With a nod, Pop-Eye began dashing down the opposite end of the hall, light panting from slightly behind him showing that Victor was keeping pace relatively well. Regardless, he slowed down so that the boy could be slightly in front of him, while he kept a lookout on both the front and back directions. As they ran towards the grand staircase, Pop-Eye narrowed his eyes at Victor's back. Despite being eight...the boy was wielding to fight for the Manor. They both didn't know what was going on...but he planned on finding out, and protecting the boy he began to think of as a nephew.
They passed a corner, and Pop-Eye faltered slightly at the entrance of the manor. Victor, however, stumbled completely, falling to his knees. Bile rose up through the young boy's throat, and Pop-Eye could only pat the puking boy on the back. Stacked at the entrance, keeping the mansion locked, was mutilated bodies and body parts of the Knight's staff; maids and butlers that Victor knew for years, and that Pop-Eye had known for even longer...dead and violated. A thug, that had been standing, arms crossed, in front of the meat-blockade, began reaching for his assault rifle.
A CRACK echoed through the building, and the thug fell to the ground. Pop-Eye lowered his Deagle, looking down at Victor. "You okay...?" He asked the young boy. A hiccup is all he got in return. Slowly, Pop-Eye stood, easily throwing Victor over a shoulder. "Let's get to the safe-room." He whispered, sprinting for the stairs. However, he had to stop once more...when the mangled and torn body of Lance Knight slowly rolled down the stairs, with a large, bulky man in a white suit following slowly after the mutilated corpse, a tommy gun in hand.
"Gregory Hill...Interesting. Is this what you've been lowered to? A body-guard to a spoiled brat?"
A strangled gasp split the air, and Victor fell from Pop-Eyes shoulders, tackling his father's dead body. He began to cry, all of the emotions he had tried to restrict to continue on...all spilling forth. A bang echoed, and a tommy gun round splintered through his right shoulder. He dully heard himself bit right through his lip, not being able to restrain the scream as the bullet threw his body down the rest of the few stairs. More words were spoken, and when he next opened his eyes, the deep brown hair of his mother was covering his face - along with the feeling of her cold skin. Fire was spreading everywhere, and the now-realized Gregory zoomed in on his body, bleeding from what seemed to be a bullet-wound, a head injury, and various lacerations. That's when he blacked out.
___
The rest of his history has been frayed by Victor's own mind, at a young age, as a way of coping, but after that faithful night, things changed. Knight's Manor had fell, his parents and staff all going down with it...only Pop-Eye was a constant, stable figure in his young life. Torn and broken by this, Victor yearned to leave New York...just leave, for now. He wanted vengeance...he wanted to kill every single one of the criminals that had infested his home and destroyed it. This created Crisis, and as he, along with Gregory, traveled the world, with Gregory and a plethora of other different figures teaching Victor everything he wanted - no, needed to know and master, Victor began to formulate the Vigilante of his mind. Crisis. Through his absence, friends of the Knight family, and the executives and CEOs of Knight Enterprises, began to rebuild the Knight Manor, along with regaining it's previous fame. It took a time, but Knight Enterprises recovered, and took over the business and political world once more.
Meanwhile, the crime boss Tommy Pigureli, and his entire mafia, mysteriously died in a fire, whilst staying at their alternate base in Greece. They were the slayers of the Knight family.
At the age of twenty, he returned to New York as Victor Knight - the heir to the Knight legacy returning to his home sparked months of press coverage, and together, with his top executive and friend - along with private teacher and instructor, Gregory Hall AKA Pop-Eye, Victor began to reconstruct his life. He returned to Knight Manor, and oversaw the various construction plans. Once the reconstruction was completely finished, Victor began to secure the manor, so that a repeat would not happen again. It was now upgraded, and grander than ever; but not complete. Using his funds, and technology from another branch of Knight Enterprises - Knight Engineering and Tech - he constructed the Crisis Base, located underneath Knight Manor. That is when the Legacy of Crisis, and Victor, began.
These two were Lance and Amelia Knight, respectively...both head owners of Knight Enterprises, which, in itself, was an international, multi-billion dollar company that span the globe, and one of the few, if not the top business expansions in the entire world, in both the present and the future. The two have been trying for an heir for the past three years, with minimal success. It was thought that Lance was sterile, since he had an attempted vasectomy in one of his youthful escapades decades ago, but that was proven wrong when Amelia was found pregnant those faithful months in the past. Now...their precious Victor would be borne. He would be born...and lead the Enterprises further into victor, with his parents at his back. It would be wonderful.
"PUSH!" Amelia pushed. The sound of young, squeaky crying abruptly filled the air, and relieved smiles formed on the faces of all those present. Amelia immediately reached for her precious baby, cobalt eyes twinkling in the dim candle-light of the Knight Private Hospital, and her smile widened as she noticed the dark brown and blonde hair, fleeting due to young age. When the eyes opened, revealing dark blue pools of royal navy, a squealed was released from all of the women doctors, Amelia amongst them. The doctors began filing out after a look from Lance - the slim man still holding an authorative intimidation. Standing, Lance sidled up to his wife's shoulders, slowly reaching forward to stoke the side of the baby's cheek. "Victor's beautiful, honey..." He whispered softly, a small smile on his lips as he kissed his wife's damp forehead. "...I love him...and I love you." The baby's crying had stopped, and the small family shared a warm hug.
Skip forward a few years. A young child, around four years old, squared off to a tall, buff man around middle-age. They were both shirtless, wearing gym shorts, with bright red boxing gloves tapered off at the wrist. With dark brown and blonde-peppered locks, the child had a deviously cute visage; a future heart-breaker in the beginning of his childish youth. A smirk was on his face, rather uncommon for little kids. Meanwhile, the older man had a mohawk and beard, with darker-toned skin, and a vibrant scar going down his left eye. His mouth was grinning, showing multiple golden teeth. This was all happening within what appeared to be a private gym, with multiple weight sets all around, and the two being within what seemed to be an ornate boxing ring. "Okay, kid, let's start with some light boxi-" The child had already crossed the ring, leaping up in the air, a gloved fist heading straight for the man's cheek. The smirk had stretched.
Yes, life for young Victor Knight...it was wonderful, all things considered. The youngest heir to a multi-billion dollar company, and the youngest scion to a filthy wealthy and rich family; with his mother being a world-renown scientist, physicist, and technician, while his father was a world-renown aerospace engineer, philanthropist, and businessman. Obviously, this gave him cockiness and arrogance in his life, but most of it wasn't mean-spirited arrogance, just the classic rich-kid-swagger. He got everything he wanted growing up. Toys, video-games, attention, private tutoring...he was a once in a life time prodigy. Everything he did, he mastered, and everything he didn't master, he spent hours upon hours on to master. He had a drive to be the best boy and future businessman he could be, and his parents supported their son wholeheartedly.
And then...that's when the trouble began brewing. As you know, such a...popular and spirited company and family would have life-long enemies, right? Well, at the age of eight, whilst practicing Taekwando with his bodyguard - the bearded and mohawked man that went by the joking name of Pop-Eye, panic seemed to surge within Knight Manor. Panic seemed to reign supreme; with butlers and maids running all throughout the manor. It made for a scene highly reminiscent to an event that happened approximately eight years ago. However, this was obviously not something that carefree and glorious. The sound of cracking, automated firearm usage suddenly blasted throughout the manor, as if coming from a distance, and it was slowly, slowly getting closer. From the door's window, before his eyes, with fear creeping down his throat, Victor witnessed a group of maids running down the hallway, before a constant barrage of lead slammed into their backs and heads, sending them reeling through the air, bodies becoming pin-cushions for the .40 bullets. Blood flashed across the door's window, and he flinched subconsciously.
He was abruptly thrown to the ground, as a rearing and shouting Pop-Eye slammed against the door shoulder-first, both large, calloused hands gripped around what seemed to be a .50 cal Desert Eagle, Bessie; Victor recognized it immediately, from training with the man. "Vic! Go hide in the safety room in the back of the gym...and don't come out until you hear my, Jeff's, or your parent's voice through the speakers!" The man grunted out in his usually deep, gravelly voice. He slowly opened the door, only to leap back, grabbing Victor with him, as two large, bulky men - bloodied and wielding assault rifles - shouldered through the openings. "Hey, Ross, look at what we have here-" The first man was abruptly cut off by a .50 cal bullet blasting through his cranium. Ross panic-squeezed his trigger at the loud CRACK, and the spray hit the ceiling. Another CRACK echoed, and he was lying on the floor, a hole leaking gray brain matter across the marble.
Victor just...just stared blankly at the bodies. The way the blood slowly congealed on the floor, bits of bone chips literally the wall and door hinge. It was all...just...disgusting. Pop-Eye glanced over from where he had his ear pressed against the wall. The sound of stomping feet and wild yelling didn't fill him with confidence. "Come on, kid, we need to get to you to a safe place!" There was hesitation in the deep voice. He was worried if Victor was in shock. The boy shook his head sharply, bending down with shaking hands and eyes. His ward pretended not to notice the boy grabbing a familiar combat-knife from Ross's hip.
With a nod, Pop-Eye began dashing down the opposite end of the hall, light panting from slightly behind him showing that Victor was keeping pace relatively well. Regardless, he slowed down so that the boy could be slightly in front of him, while he kept a lookout on both the front and back directions. As they ran towards the grand staircase, Pop-Eye narrowed his eyes at Victor's back. Despite being eight...the boy was wielding to fight for the Manor. They both didn't know what was going on...but he planned on finding out, and protecting the boy he began to think of as a nephew.
They passed a corner, and Pop-Eye faltered slightly at the entrance of the manor. Victor, however, stumbled completely, falling to his knees. Bile rose up through the young boy's throat, and Pop-Eye could only pat the puking boy on the back. Stacked at the entrance, keeping the mansion locked, was mutilated bodies and body parts of the Knight's staff; maids and butlers that Victor knew for years, and that Pop-Eye had known for even longer...dead and violated. A thug, that had been standing, arms crossed, in front of the meat-blockade, began reaching for his assault rifle.
A CRACK echoed through the building, and the thug fell to the ground. Pop-Eye lowered his Deagle, looking down at Victor. "You okay...?" He asked the young boy. A hiccup is all he got in return. Slowly, Pop-Eye stood, easily throwing Victor over a shoulder. "Let's get to the safe-room." He whispered, sprinting for the stairs. However, he had to stop once more...when the mangled and torn body of Lance Knight slowly rolled down the stairs, with a large, bulky man in a white suit following slowly after the mutilated corpse, a tommy gun in hand.
"Gregory Hill...Interesting. Is this what you've been lowered to? A body-guard to a spoiled brat?"
A strangled gasp split the air, and Victor fell from Pop-Eyes shoulders, tackling his father's dead body. He began to cry, all of the emotions he had tried to restrict to continue on...all spilling forth. A bang echoed, and a tommy gun round splintered through his right shoulder. He dully heard himself bit right through his lip, not being able to restrain the scream as the bullet threw his body down the rest of the few stairs. More words were spoken, and when he next opened his eyes, the deep brown hair of his mother was covering his face - along with the feeling of her cold skin. Fire was spreading everywhere, and the now-realized Gregory zoomed in on his body, bleeding from what seemed to be a bullet-wound, a head injury, and various lacerations. That's when he blacked out.
___
The rest of his history has been frayed by Victor's own mind, at a young age, as a way of coping, but after that faithful night, things changed. Knight's Manor had fell, his parents and staff all going down with it...only Pop-Eye was a constant, stable figure in his young life. Torn and broken by this, Victor yearned to leave New York...just leave, for now. He wanted vengeance...he wanted to kill every single one of the criminals that had infested his home and destroyed it. This created Crisis, and as he, along with Gregory, traveled the world, with Gregory and a plethora of other different figures teaching Victor everything he wanted - no, needed to know and master, Victor began to formulate the Vigilante of his mind. Crisis. Through his absence, friends of the Knight family, and the executives and CEOs of Knight Enterprises, began to rebuild the Knight Manor, along with regaining it's previous fame. It took a time, but Knight Enterprises recovered, and took over the business and political world once more.
Meanwhile, the crime boss Tommy Pigureli, and his entire mafia, mysteriously died in a fire, whilst staying at their alternate base in Greece. They were the slayers of the Knight family.
At the age of twenty, he returned to New York as Victor Knight - the heir to the Knight legacy returning to his home sparked months of press coverage, and together, with his top executive and friend - along with private teacher and instructor, Gregory Hall AKA Pop-Eye, Victor began to reconstruct his life. He returned to Knight Manor, and oversaw the various construction plans. Once the reconstruction was completely finished, Victor began to secure the manor, so that a repeat would not happen again. It was now upgraded, and grander than ever; but not complete. Using his funds, and technology from another branch of Knight Enterprises - Knight Engineering and Tech - he constructed the Crisis Base, located underneath Knight Manor. That is when the Legacy of Crisis, and Victor, began.
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