Rules:

1.) My word is law.

2.) Obey the law.

3.) No back-to-back posting.

4.) PAY ATTENTION TO HEALTH AND POST COUNT! HEALTH SHOULD BE LISTED BELOW EACH ATTACK OR DEFENSE MOVE!
a.) Health will be reset every two Levels [10 posts].

5.) Make sense. If your hero used basic melee punches and kicks along with other moves make sure it's clear in the post! ROLEPLAY BETWEEN THE LINES! Meaning don't be scared to get a little descriptive when not in the throes of battle.

6.) Get permission before using another player's character in your posts if it involves changing the scene or making actions or just ask to collaborate in the discord. Everybody will take beatings in this game in battle however, so don't get pissed if you get punched or blasted into a wall by the bad guys!

7.) Problems with the game or players should be sent directly to me through PM's. I don't want a bunch of bickering in the OOC.

8.) Abandoned characters will be used as NPC's or killed off within the context of the story.

9.) “I was waiting for [insert player/character] to make a move” is not an excuse to halt posting.

10.) There is no rule #10.

11.) In the event that I'm offline for any period of time, the deputy GM (none ATM) will take control and their word will then be law.



It was a little past two o’clock on a Tuesday afternoon. Sirens could be heard in the distance, and a pair of individuals couldn’t wait to get away from Eisner High School. Just on the edge of Kings Bay, it was the largest of three high schools in Steel City. Unknown to the students and faculty, there was more than one hero under their roof. Several weeks ago Jake Johnson found one of the mystical instruments of the Piper and soon after adopted the identity of Boy Blue. The other just so happened to be a decorated war hero turned history teacher and the hero Professor Ironside. Both of them caught one another glancing up at the clock on the wall. There was a large flash of light down the street, and it was obvious who was causing trouble… Mister Brightside.

“Can I go to the restroom, Mr. Warren?” Jake asked from the back of the classroom.

“Class ends in thirty-two and a half minutes. Be patient, Mr. Johnson.” responded the metal handed history teacher.

The teacher knew the boy wanted a way out to go play hero, he wasn’t oblivious. In the weeks since Jake found the mystical instrument, Prof. Ironside saved the boy no less than six times. The kid was just too damn curious for his own good. One day he’d challenge the Copper Kids Gang, the next he was trying to take on some costumed idiot downtown making a scene. After he wore some blue clothes the Tribune gave him the alias Boy Blue and he started wearing a simple mask to help conceal his identity. The clock continued to creep ever so slowly towards two forty-five… and freedom.

Across town an undead man staggered through Kirby Park. Most of the locals just assumed the man had been drinking. They could never imagine that he was once dead and reanimated as a puppet of Doctor Death. Death sent letters to the police and taunted their every move. He had ties to the Tribune and sent letters to them as well, and not all of them were reprinted for the masses to read. Now his creation, his ‘Death Man’, approached a small child playing roughly twelve feet from her mother who was busy talking to another parent.

Murphy sat on a park, drinking from a flask of water. He nervously adjusted his coat, looking around as if he was waiting for something. Which was, of course, what he was doing, but even to him, it was unclear what he was waiting for. There were probably better things for him to be doing - the professor had sent him out to grab some prints, the custodian was looking to schedule a visit soon, and Vincent had asked him to pick up some donuts on the way back. But Murphy... had a feeling.

Oh how he hated the phrase, so frustratingly vague and undescriptive. But even if it dealt in vagueries, the Moth God had been right every time. He didn't know what would happen, or when it would happen, or precisely where it would happen. For someone like him who liked to be right on time, it was a hairpulling experience. But something always would happen, some disaster would strike just when Murphy convinced himself he had imagined the impulse, and he would throw himself into the fray once again. Whatever occurred in the park today, the Magnificent Moth Man would be there to help. It was what he had to do, and the occassional Tribune headline focused on him didn't hurt either.

Murphy checked his watch impatiently. He hoped that whatever it was that happened, it would happen soon. He hoped that he could at least get to the print shop before it closed.

It didn't take James long to hear about the commotion in town and it took him less time to jump into action. He'd lucked out by not having anything on the agenda for the day, simply spending it mulling around home and taking a load off after an eventful weekend. The calm was luckily interrupted by some real action with the flash of lights seen from his home's window and an intercepted call to the police.

Rushing to his wardrobe, James removed the faux back panel to reveal his costume, of which he quickly donned. There was another flash as James scrambled upstairs and onto his roof. Through athletics, trial and error James now had a good idea of how far he could leap roof to roof before needing to clamber back down to street level and make the rest of his journey the layman's way. Luckily for James his route let him stay atop the building until he was a block away from the commotion. Deftly moving down to the street, James would lurk around the corner or one of the nearby building and scope out just what Mister Brightside was up to before making his own move.

It was the cold of night. The sun had set over Steel City over three hours ago. The outskirts of town were pitch black, lit only by occasional flashes of lightning as the rain poured down and thunder rumbled in the distant skies. On the old road approaching a dairy farm, a patch of road was dimly lit by the flaming wreckage of a motorcycle. The dim light revealed a masculine figure laying nearby. Shot in the back, the uniformed policeman lay face down in a muddy puddle of blood and water. His right hand clutched the handle of a Mauser CP6 pistol, while the left hand clutched the handle of a Bowie knife.

The symbol engraved on the blade almost appeared to pulsate with a soft glow in time with the flashes of lighting and flickering of the nearby flame. A haunting wind whispered its way across the scene, washing over the surely dead man. And when mixed with the pattering and splashes of raindrops, one could swear a distant voice could be just made out among the blowing wind.

"Rise."

After moments of nothing happening, a bolt of lighting struck much nearer than any previous. The accompanying thunder roared alongside the now-howling wind. The distant whisper became a closer, more sharply-toned command.

Rise!"

Hector's eyes shot open and he bolted upright in his cot. He looked around at his surroundings, confirming that he was indeed in the abandoned barn that he had repurposed into a hideout. It was spacious enough to park his bike inside of like a garage, and located outside of town where he would be allowed solitude and privacy. Hector wiped cold sweat from his face and stood upright. Sunlight peaked through the occasional cracks and spacing between planks, informing him that it was daytime - though he wasn't sure what time it was specifically. Even so, he set about his usual wake up routine.

He grabbed a bucket and used it to draw water from a nearby well outside. Then hung the barrel onto a simple pulley system he constructed in order to dump it on himself so that he could wash and clean himself. He turned on the radio of his bike, allowing himself to listen in on SCPD radio chatter while he went about getting dressed. At this time he picked up on some dispatch chatter, officially being labeled as a "drunk and disorderly" incident but with a certain code number attached to it that Hector recognized. It meant that there was a possible Doctor Death connection to this incident that the police were keeping quiet from the public until further investigation.

Hector had heard that name before, as anyone might have. And while he had yet to encounter Death personally, Hector had been diligent in trying to keep the reports of his activities on his radar. Perhaps Doctor Death was just another psychotic freakshow... or maybe he wasn't. Hector had been investigating his "awakening" on the side, trying to piece together how and why he was able to survive something he surely shouldn't have. And there was a possibility - however slim - that this Doctor Death character had an answer. Or, if not that, a clue at least.

In the next moments, Lawman was suited and burst out of the main doors of his barn/hideout aboard his motorcycle. Going on "rides" like this during the day wasn't his usual M.O., but he was willing to buck his own patterns if it meant getting a shot at Doctor Death. With his bike's engine giving its signature haunting roar, he sped into Steel City en route to Kirby Park.

It was two forty-five and the bell just rang at Eisner High School. The school buses outside were a steel gray like most of the city. Thousands of citizens waited for the completion of the elevated mass transit system. Some kids still walked home as there were suburbs just across the highway. Jake Johnson looked for a broom closet to change into his blue clothing and don his mask. Mister Brightside was long gone by now, but surely a hero or two had made an attempt to take the guy down. As Boy Blue, Jake patrolled the edge of Kings Bay and practiced with his horn near the end of Copper Creek. Like many other days, he bumped into the Copper Kids Gang.

“We told ya, you ain’t welcome ‘round here.” One of the kids in their late teens claimed.

“I told you, sooner or later one of these mobsters is gonna execute the lot of you. You don’t have to be goons for hire.” Boy Blue stated in response. “Just tell me, who paid you to burn down the orphanage?”

The gang had been sipping on moonshine, likely given to them by one of the bootleggers tied to the mobs and gangs of the city. Their health was impaired to say the least.



One of the kids wielding a ball bat came from behind BB and struck him in the shoulder.

BB – 12 (lost 1 HP)
CKG1 – 5

Boy Blue turned around and tripped the kid up, putting him on the ground. They were in a large field by Copper Creek next to a couple abandoned warehouses.

BB – 12
CKG1 – 4 (lost 1 HP)

Another kid came in with a cheap shot that turned Jake into a headbutt from another member of the gang.

BB – 10 (lost 2 HP from two separate attacks)
CKG2 – 5
CKG3 – 5

When he shook off the attacks and got his wits about him, Boy Blue pulled his mystical instrument from the holster he’d made in the back of his shirt and blasted the partial gang of misfit orphans.

BB – 10
CKG1 – 3
CKG2 – 4
CKG3 – 4 (I was going to blast all 5 members but I’m limited to 4 attacks per post)

From atop one of the abandoned buildings stood a towering figure. His student always did have a habit of getting himself into situations he couldn’t get himself out of. The older hero watched the kids gang up on Boy Blue, not feeling particularly in a hurry to save him. By observation alone, he determined that they were drunk. The man felt disappointed, more than anything.

Professor Ironside descended upon the kids, landing on his feet in front of Boy Blue with enough force that the ground audibly trembled in his presence. Despite being a superhero, his “costume” looked relatively plain. A sleeveless trench coat over a suit and blue tie. He wore an old, dingy gray welding mask to conceal his face, but what stood out most was his arms. They were solid metal, and faintly reflective in the evening sun. He stared down the literal children for several, dead silent seconds before deciding how to handle this situation.

”Do your families know where you are currently?” the metal-armed titan asked them, patiently. His voice reverberated through the mask in such a way that he sounded more machine than human. ”What would they say, if they knew you were harming an innocent boy?”