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9 yrs ago
Sometimes, even an adventurer needs a backrub.
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In Saturday Morning Fun → 7 yrs ago Forum: Casual Interest Checks


In the year of 1993, humanity perfected its first warp drive, opening the gate to the stars! We discovered that in the far reaches of space exists a highly advanced galactic community of aliens of all shapes and sizes. This society has become so advanced that mundane crime is all but extinct. But to take its place, strange new criminals have arisen with bizarre new forms of crime! Chief among these ne'er-do-wells is the Cosmic Ring of Intergalactic Masterminds and Evildoers, otherwise known as C.R.I.M.E.! Led by a criminal mastermind known only as The Big Brain, C.R.I.M.E. seeks to rule the underworld of the cosmos!

To combat the threats faced by galactic civilization, long ago the people of the Milky Way set up an order of lawmen. Led for centuries by the gruff and mysterious Chief Hyperion, these unique individuals from across the stars have come together. Humans and aliens, men and machines! These stalwart champions stand together, dedicated to the highest ideals of justice. Sworn to preserve law and order across the universe, they are... the Galacticops! Their mission: To protect and serve the galaxy!

---
Do you remember sitting around on Saturday mornings, watching cartoons designed to sell you toys? Well, Galacticops is a game meant to emulate those halcyon days of youth. An order of spacecops stand against monsters, invaders, and a galaxy-spanning network of organized crime. The idea for this show, and the accompanying toyline, is that a toy company had a bunch of toy licenses they couldn't sell on their own merits. Seeing the success of other toy-based TV shows, they decided to slap all the toylines together in a single universe, writing off the wildly different aesthetics and designs as being aliens from various planets. There's a couple of things to keep in mind regarding tone and such.


  • The game's going to be drenched in optimism, like the cartoons of old. The morality's black and white, there's minimal angst and depression, and there's not going to be a lot of overly dark villain plots. We're not IDW here.
  • Let's be honest. Transformers, GI Joe, He-Man, Silverhawks, these were shows designed to sell toys. When making your character, consider the following question: "If I was a kid, would I buy this action figure?"
  • Keep the power level reasonable for, say, He-Man or COPS.
  • I like spacewizards as much as the next guy, but I'd rather keep everything tech-based. Feel free to have a dude whose tech looks like wizard gear or something though!

---


In A.I. am Human → 7 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
In A.I. am Human (Cyborg 009 remake) → 7 yrs ago Forum: Casual Interest Checks
Where does the Cyborg 009 vs Devilman series fit in? I've quite literally just got into both of these franchises so I was at a loss for words when finding out they crossed over.


The thing about crossovers is they only matter if a Transformer, Ultraman, or Kamen Rider Decade shows up in them. Otherwise, they're self-contained things that will never be referenced again, unless it's another crossover.
In A.I. am Human (Cyborg 009 remake) → 7 yrs ago Forum: Casual Interest Checks
In Heroes Reborn - A DCAU Roleplay (Always open!) → 7 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
October 30th, 2:30 PM Local Time
Skull Island, In the North Pacific

The passenger pigeons and carolina parakeets flitted about over the shores of Skull Island. A Dodo bird chased a plump looking grub, and a dolphin flitted about in the waters near the dock. On this dock, Lord Death man sat, once again, awaiting one of his guests- this time a fellow long-lived crimelord. Sure, he and King Snake had spent most of the 60's trying to kill each other, but it was an unstoppable force versus an unkillable object...

or however that phrase goes. Lord Death Man thought, petting a panting canine creature. I really hope Snake didn't rip this one to shreds. It'd be awkward sending another guy.

King Snake had, in fact, torn apart the body, but only as a means of disposal after he had found what he was looking for. The invitation had been, rather creatively he had to admit, etched onto the would-be assassin's flesh by way of his irezumi tattoo. Or rather via specific points, new additions and mistakes by any other metric, where the needle had scarred the skin and left minuscule bumps for his superior sense of touch to find. On a full suit of ink.

Finding it all spread across the man's body had taken more time and more feeling up a cadaver than he cared to admit, and it read:

King Snake, I apologize, but this was a little long to fit on a knife. Our rivalry has lasted longer than most criminal careers. I remember the first time we had a duel on top of a bridge in Beijing, when I refused to pay tribute for the use of the city's ports- you didn't want to abide by the previous boss's agreements with me. Anyway, after I tossed you to the ground, you managed to take me by surprise and throw me overboard into the smokestack of a passing ship. Damn, you really should have seen your face when I confronted you a week later. You were eating at a fine restaurant, and out of the kitchen I come, roundhouse kicking your date because you switched seats. God that was awkward. Anyway, I believe we are adults, and after our understanding in the 80's, I believe we can do business. I am working on a glorious undertaking that will redefine crime as we know it. I need all the old hands I can get. I even managed to get Wolf Carson on board, and it turns out that ludicrous rumor about the brain transplant was accurate. I, and the others I've brought on for this, will be at the following coordinates. I don't know how to do numbers, just translate this part into braille seventeen degrees fifty four minutes fifty two seconds north one hundred and thirty six degrees eleven minutes fifty five seconds east

This is Skull Island, and it was my base in Polynesia during the second World War. There are several rare and exotic creatures, and I advise your henchmen not to harm them, or else I will have their skin. Accomodations are prepared for all one hundred and eight guests, and the announcement will be made on Halloween to allow ample time for my guests to arrive. I trust I can count on your cooperation.

Death Man Out.

Desmond Dorrance had to, at the very least, respect the dead man's dedication. That was a lot of painful needlework to go through. Everywhere on his anatomy. But that had been four days ago and the dead man did not matter. What mattered was that King Snake's interest had definitely been piqued, and so he had arranged instructions for his Society of Snakes in Shadows to continue carrying out their work while he attended the meeting. The walking dead were to be harvested in utmost secrecy, kept subdued where they might feed on negative energies. In bloody murder sites across the world, places steeped in terror and anger and hate, King Snake's army would grow.

But for the moment Sir Desmond was accompanied by a lone man, only his majordomo Singh was privy to such important machinations and so he was the one piloting the high speed cabin cruiser towards the given coordinates. Not the Snake Cruiser or the King's Cruiser or somesuch, that was the sort of the name he would reserve for his luxury yacht were he the type to name his vessels in such a manner. But he wasn't. Besides, the Dorrance yacht was reserved for leisure only, this powerful one-man crew machine was all business and made for rapid, uneventful transit.

Lord Death Man, with his typical whimsical demeanor, sat in his colorful lawnchair as the speedboat came into port, stroking a tasmanian tiger. He gave a nonchalant wave to the blind Englishman and his manservant.

"Ah, King Snake! Now, this is just a formality but, I'm going to be honest, I figured you died. The braille in the Irezumi is a good indicator you're not, but I need to be absolutely sure that you're the real deal."

The skeleton-clad Yakuza stood up suddenly, opening his arms wide. "Somewhere on or near this jetty, there is an assassin! Tell me, where are they, what are they armed with, and what fighting style does their stance suggest?"

"The rumors of my death were greatly exagerated, as I am sure you learned from Chien Na Wei's flight. But given my absence, doubts are entirely reasonable", came the reply, as Desmond stood still on his craft's deck, his trusty cane in hand. By this point, Singh knew better than to get in the way and simply found a place to wait out the proceedings, a pair of revolvers and his old kukri handy just in case.

King Snake tapped his cane down. Once, twice. He listened. He felt his surroundings, he intensified his focus. In some bushes to the left, there was a small native boy with a spear- a fishing spear. No, couldn't be him. Too simple, too direct, and the skull disliked children coming to harm. No one would send an assassin against Desmond Dorrance knowing of his true identity expecting them to survive. There was a man in one of the skeleton-themed outfits Death Man assigned to his henchmen to maintain their anonymity. Again, too plain and obvious. Where, then, would a test for him hide?

Ah, of course. Where to hide from someone with his senses, someone who could perceive every sound, every scent, every vibration from the air? With a wordless smile, Snake approached the side of his boat and calmly dipped his cane beneath the waves, holding an end to his ear. He remembered when the water signified a return complete darkness, a weak spot he could not allow himself. Focusing, he felt the currents, the flow, the vibrations, using his cane he fished for faint sounds he could otherwise not feel above water. And he felt it. The tell-tale twitch of a thrill killer. The fast-paced maddened thoughts only the mind that spawned them could comprehend. The cold, waterproofed steel of the trench knife. And the bubbles escaping from the blowhole as it slowly approached the boat.

"Oh for the love of..." was all Snake could mouth off before the assassin made his move. Its move. This really needs to stop, he managed to think to himself before steeling body and mind for battle. The surface of the ocean burst. The spray hit Snake as he took a step back and out of his crouch, turning to the side of the boat with cane at the ready and held out in front of him much like a sword. He could see the rainbow in his mind as the assailant cut through the air in a clear trajectory over his craft but low enough to strike at him, knife held between clenched teeth on a bottle-like snout. It was a goddamn dolphin.

The dolphin took a swipe with the knife as he leapt over the boat, going straight for the top of Snake's head with a maniacal series of clicks and whistles. Of course, such an attack loses much of its surprise value when you know that a dolphin is after you. Of course, the very sight of a dolphin leaping for a flying slash would be enough to trip up most men, but King Snake was not most men. His reputation for cold blooded ruthlessness and absolute readiness for murder was well deserved. Besides, given his track record it would have been more surprising if Lord Death Man had used the skeleton-costumed henchman instead.

With a minimum of graceful motion King Snake defended himself. Cane already in place, with strong footing and the advantage in reach, it took but a simple flick of the wrist to knock the dolphin's blade off its intended path and he doubted the marine creature could switch "grips". Still tracking his attacker with the very end of his weapon, Dorrance took the slightest pivot and sidestepped away from the trajectory of the leap wholesale. Letting it return to the water would not do, however, and Snake pressed the advantage, flicking his cane back only to disdainfully snap it down against the animal's skull. The dolphin squeaked and whistled as Death Man sat, unperturbed.

Fuck, the henchman was supposed to try and kneecap him. The fuck is Bakurai doing?

The dolphin's thoughts, of course, were simple. STAB THE LIMEY! GUT THE BRIT! BLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODDIEEEEEEEEEE AND MOMMY WILL LOVE MEEEEE!

Simple, but not those of a sane cetacean.

For its part, the dolphin continued putting up an amiable fight, flopping around the deck and tossing his trench knife at King Snake before reaching to a bandolier of more knives and taking one in his teeth. Back on the shore, the henchman had finally drawn the sleek pistol that Death Man had secreted in a soundproof pocket of his trousers in an effort to disguise it from King Snake until it was drawn. He fumbled a few times with it, obviously confused by the events unfolding on the boat, and accidentally fired a round skyward, causing birds across the island to dive for the trees as the dolphin continued its assault on Dorrance's ankles.

The gunshot was met with several in kind, with Singh taking the bullet as a sign that things were not going as planned. A six shooter emptied in the direction of the sound and the other towards the observing crime lord, the surprise making the gurkha's usually quite lethal aim wide and turning it into suppressing fire, but Dorrance knew he could trust his aide should the situation degenerate further. For the moment he was busy after parrying the thrown blade, feet darting and shuffling to and fro, more concerned with protecting his bespoke outfit than with any sort of risk to his well being. "That is quite ENOUGH".

Punctuating the sentence was a graceful flip over the thrashing creature, a means of avoiding one final slash, gaining an advantageous position and showcasing his capacity for effortlessly spectacular agility. A single thrust of the cane as he was airborne and quite literally looking down on his target and Bakurai's blowhole was most mercilessly intruded upon by the wooden shaft, with the briton subsequently landing next to its now harmless form putting his weight down on it. The psychotic dolphin made an attempt to gasp. However, with its blowhole plugged, it was left to choke.

Meanwhile, one of Singh's bullets went straight into the head of the yakuza, the force causing him to slump over and the chair to flip back as a red dot expanded from the singed bullet-hole in his skull mask- and the clear path to the other side of his head. At about a forty five degree angle, however, life returned to his eyes and he quickly pushed off the ground into a flip, landing on his feet and cracking his neck.

"I agree, King Snake. Bakurai turned this into a bit of a farce, but I'd appreciate it if you'd let him go. It's hard to teach dolphins knife-fighting. And you, Saburo," Lord Death Man said as he turned to the henchman, his head already closing the wound, "Learn some goddamn trigger discipline."

With that, he took his own cane in hand and walked towards the boat, already chuckling over the dolphin's faux pas. "I suppose that is enough proof indeed. Welcome to Skull Island, one of my international safehouses. It's a temporary measure for this endeavor, because we'll be building to something much bigger in the near future. Bakurai, go back to chasing seals into old naval mines."

King Snake was not at all one to let attacks on his person go unpunished, but he was a guest here and killing house pets would be in very poor form. With a grunt, though waiting perhaps a moment too long, he removed his weapon from his fallen foe and pushed the cetacean overboard with his foot. The slightest of hand gestures made Singh holster his already reloaded guns down and the majordomo sat back down on the pilot's seat, wordlessly checking the blade on his razor sharp knife. Just in case.

"Perhaps you might be better served improving your men's training, rather than putting all this effort on beasts. But I see you stand strong as ever in your ways after my absence". Smiling confidently himself, Sir Desmond Dorrance stepped out of his craft and into Skull Island, offering his oftentime rival a firm handshake, which the Yakuza accepted. "It is good to see some things unchanged by time. And I must admit you have my interest. What do you have in mind that needs all of this, all of us?".

"I've told you. I intend to redefine crime, and the first step is a concerted effort to perform the greatest heist in history."

"Desmond, we're stealing Atlantis."
In Heroes Reborn - A DCAU Roleplay (Always open!) → 7 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
October 27th, 11:30 AM Local Time
Skull Island, In the North Pacific

Skull Island was a cliche within a cliche. An uncharted tropical island thickly covered in jungle. Strange animal cries unknown to the civilized world echoed out from the thick blanket of plant life. And, true to its name, there was a volcanic mountain in the shape of a skull after centuries of volcanic activity. On a beach on the north side of the island, however, Lord Death Man sat on a stony jetty long ago frequented by Spanish trade ships and pirates. Sitting on a deck chair next to a table with an umbrella with an ice-cold pitcher of lemonade, Lord Death Man reclined and listening to the cry of a large, noisy flock of colorful birds. Telescope in hand, he watched the horizon for signs of his guests. While he had the Deathsub, the others would likely need their own means of transport.

At least part of the reason for these particular cries from the colorful birds came as a result of Bane, who of course came to Skull Island aboard the Deathsub. Standing tall, well both out of confidence in a metaphorical sense he was physically taller than he was during his shenanigans in Mexico. Now the masked man they called Bane stood at a height of six feet and four inches. Sure it might've only been ten inches and a bit more muscle mass as a result of the mix of horrific surgery to lengthen bones that'd spook even hardened back-alley doctors and more exposure to his delightful blend of drugs the FDA would never approve, but it was surely going to be helpful to his "brand". And more importantly Bane remembered those words Joe told him when he introduced him to Hell; more mass.

And at this moment, while he would've preferred to be dressed in his more appropriate work-out attire, perhaps some swim trunks for some tropical cardio, there was "office business" to be done. So apart from his usual attire of drug insertion, Bane was dressed in a white floral shirt, black suit pants and some combat boots.

Now the reason for the shrieking of these colorful birds was due to Bane shouting at the ones flying a bit overhead. "DO YOU THINK YOU ARE WORTHY OF SERVITUDE TO LORD DEATH MAN!?"

To emphasize his point, and possibly to let out a bit of steam, Bane lunged upwards with a flying knee, which managed to catch part of the lower-flying flock and put them out of comission. He took one of the birds which began helplessly chirping, and flapping its wings in an attempt to fly. But it was of no use as the creature was brought up towards Bane's face.

"Do. You. UNDERSTAND?" after this interrogation he threw the bird against one of the many particularly hard looking flora. "Are you certain they will come of their own will? Do you need me to drag them here?"

"Woah woah woah! Bane, lad, don't go throwing the Carolina Parakeet. They're supposed to be extinct. Skull Island is an effort to reintroduce them into the wild. And... well, especially don't go kicking the Thylacines. It took me months in Tasmania to find enough for a breeding population."

"Hrm." Bane grumbled out as he glanced down at the downed bird. "I was unaware. ...I will try to take better care in which animals I assault here. I cannot promise anything however. But still I offer my apologies Lord Death Man."

"It's alright Bane, you're new on this, and it's okay to make mistakes. I suppose our first guest will be Manta- we've had dealings in the past."

Bane rolled his neck from side to side before placing both of his hands behind his head. Moving his legs a bit apart he glanced towards Lord Death Man, "Good dealings I hope or well I assume considering he is going to be one of the guests." he stated before performing some squats.

"Yes, he actually sold me the Deathsub. Refurbished it too after I promised I'd take potshots at any Atlanteans I saw. By the way, Atlantis is real, we're going to rob it some day."

"I-it is...?" Behind the mask Bane's eyes twinkled with a childish sense of wonder. He rose up and stopped doing his squats, "Is it true Plato lives there? I always wanted to make him tap out..." As he allowed his mind to wander on all the variety of holds he could place Plato in to force him to tap out, Bane went down and stretched out with a forward lunge.



Off the coast of Skull Island, if one were to closely monitor the horizon, they might just make out the unassuming silhouette of the GNS Achimota. Once the pride and joy and the Ghanaian Navy, the former 'flagship' now served a different, darker purpose: ferrying Black Manta, pirate lord of Somalia, to a volcanic island forgotten by man. The accomodations were decidedly spartan, especially when compared to his newly acquired yacht, but Black Manta wasn't the sort to sacrifice utility for convenience. The Achimota had a low profile, a respectable armament, and it was fast. As for the "Tiger's Den", it was slow, garish, and carried an inescapable scent that one could never quite place.

Were it not for the vessel's questionable legality, I'd have fenced the abomination already.

["Boss Manta, sir, we're nearing the island. Landfall in twenty."]

Having been embroiled in his thoughts, Black Manta hadn't even noticed the island prior to his crewman's remark. It was about what he'd expected, going off of previous dealings with the Death Syndicate, both as 'Professor Carver' and Black Manta proper. 'Lord Death Man' had a penchant for theatrics, and while it was leagues away from Black Manta's modus operandi, he could still respect it. The yakuza's creative spark could be of great benefit to his interests; Black Manta's interests, unsurprisingly, chiefly consisted of violently ending the life of King Orin. But who says you can't be creative, even in acts of merciless brutality?

Be that as it may, before Black Manta could indulge in his second-favourite pastime, he would have to prepare his men for their impending arrival at Skull Island. His aptitude as a leader of men remained somewhat unpolished, and while his penchant for silence served well enough when he needed to intimidate them, it was decidedly less suitable for commanding them.

["Good, call the others above-deck. You and Bashiir will go with me; the others will watch the Achimota. If there's any trouble, they will give the usual signal."]

["Anything else, Boss Manta?"]

["Our patron is not one of the milqetoast arms-dealers your late captain was so fond of, and is to be treated with repect. Step out of line, you lose a hand."]

["Of course."]

With that, the crewman descended below deck, once again leaving Black Manta to stew in his thoughts. Barring the occasional fleeting scheme against Aquaman, however, there wasn't overly much to think about. All that was really left to do was to simply wait for the boat to reach its destination.



"So" Bane started on switched position as he laid down on the sands and began to do some crunches. "Black Manta wouldn't have any trouble working with any, well I'll just call it, exercise equipment yes?"

"...Well, I suppose not, but remember, he's supposed to be here on business. And his scientific knowledge tends to be focused towards murdering fishmen."

A smaller boat pulled up to the dock, a grey wolf hopping out, along with a man in a pinstripe suit holding a suitcase. Death man held out his arms in welcome.

"Wolf Carson! It's been a dog's age! Oh, Bane, this is Wolfgang Carson, the Mad Dog of Minnesota. He escaped the electric chair by having his brain transplanted into an endangered Gray Wolf, meaning it was illegal to kill him."

The wolf snarled and growled a little as it headed up a path, lead along by one of Lord Death Man's henchmen, the man in the pinstripe suit following.

Bane eagerly arose from his routine of crunches, when Lord Death Man spoke of new guests. Bane was especially moved into reaction hearing about a man who was a wolf as such he waved many times towards the wolf, "Hola Senor Carson, how is it being a wolf?"

The wolf sat down on the path for a moment, looking pensive as he scratched behind and ear before barking and whining a couple of times at Death Man.

"He has this awful habit of humping furniture and howling, but he's still one of the most experienced crimelords in the Midwest."

"Then he must have much to teach." Bane nodded as he began stretching his right wrist. He turned to face Wolf Carson as if to study the crimelord for any subtle lessons. All he would find, however, was the canine crimelord dragging his butt through the dirt on the way up the path to an old plantation mansion.

"Indeed. I'm trying to bring as many old hands as newcomers to the crime scene as I can. With a particular bent for... unusual individuals. Pity Mr. Nobody was busy with that art exhibit..."

"I see, so that is what you are saying Carson...It is like streaks in the sands of time. Is that it?" Bane sagely spoke to himself trying to decipher some meaning in the actions of the canine crimelord. He shook his head before glancing towards Lord Death Man, "Is that his name or is he unimportant?"

"To hear Mr. Nobody tell it, it's his name because he's unimportant. He's... artsy."

"Artsy huh? IF I SEE HIM, HE WILL DISCUSS THE FINER POINTS OF CERAMIC SCULPTING OF THE AZTEC EMPIRE WITH ME OR ELSE I WILL INTRODUCE HIM TO MY INTERPRETATION OF A POLLACK!" Bane began squeezing his right palm in and out quickly before bringing his left hand to join as he wrung his hands for a few moments before suddenly stopping, "Well, assuming he makes a good conversation partner, I'll discuss that alongside other pieces. I will accept discussions of the other Nahaus as a starting point."

"Yes, I suppose... ah, there's Zigomar's helicopter, he'll be heading for the helipad." Death Man once again took up the telescope, looking out to the sea. "...Ah. Yes, that ship will be Manta. Seems the reports from my contacts in Africa were true."

"How many more guests do you think will show if I may inquire Lord Death Man?"

"Well, accounting for those who can't make it, those that have expressed interest total up to one hundred and eight members. Now, they're not all old hands like Wolf, Snake, and I, but they're at least established as criminals- bizarre or otherwise."

"Snake? Snake? Snaaake?! Is he also like Wolf!?! A man made into a snake or many snakes since many snakes are small!? And it is good to know these other members have established themselves as bizarre. Truly again I must say there will be much to learn."

"No, no, King Snake is an old acquaintance. He's quite human. We fought over Beijing and Shanghai for a while, but came to an understanding eventually. I'm unkillable, and his kung-fu is better than that of my hitmen."

"I see. I will enjoy seeing The King Snake." Bane stated with a nod as Lord Death Man stood up, a goofy-looking bird squawking as it ran by.

"We'll head back up to the fort in a bit. I'm not sure if Luthor will be stopping in, but it should be enough even without him."

"I'm sure we will do business with him later. He seemed like a perfectly reasonable fellow. You still have his card?"

"Yes, and he has one of mine. I always keep a few on hand."



Trailing only slightly behind the other invitees, the Achimota finally docked at Skull Island, just as the predicted twenty minutes elapsed. Not one to waste time, Black Manta moved to disembark post-haste, motioning for his selected crewmembers to fall into step.

["Boss Manta, the animals on this island, aren't they supposed to be extinct?"]

["Yes,"] Black Manta responded, ["they are also under the protection of our patron."]

["But just imagine how mu-"]

["We don't steal from our clients, Bashiir. When we begin our war against Atlantis in earnest, there will be an abundance of beasts for us to poach."]

With that, Bashiir raised no further complaint, content to imagine the possibility of hunting something no man had ever encountered, let alone caught. As for Black Manta, he moved to approach the man in the skeleton-themed outfit, figuring him to be Lord Death Man. Despite never having met the man in person, Black Manta recognized the outfit from the oft-televised escapades of the famed 'phantom thief'.

"Manta! Good to see you in person. I heard about you offing Tiger Shark, figured I'd let you in on something I'm planning as thanks."

"Likewise, Lord Death Man. Though, and I feel obliged to ask, how might this plan of yours pertain to my interests? I desire the head of King Orin on a spike, gilded trinkets and fame are of secondary importance."

Death Man sighed. He'd expected this from the single-minded pirate king. He'd have to walk Manta through this if he wanted his scientific expertise.

"Well, Manta, I am inviting you to join in a criminal enterprise. This will allow you to harass King Orin in numerous ways."

"Elaborate."

"Crime is used to acquire money, which can be exchanged for goods and services. Goods and services can be used to inconvenience Atlantis."

"Splendid. I'm in."

"Excellent! Ah, this is Bane, Senketsu Joe's new tag partner, and one of my enforcers. I trust we'll be working together in the future."

Bane did not utter a word, no he would simply allow his body language to speak for himself here. He kept a professional stance, his arms extended slightly out ready for action and his legs shoulderwidth apart. And with that he gave a simple nod towards Black Manta, then quickly turning his gaze towards Black Manta's pirates, observing them for any "interesting responses".

However the silent response would be shortlived, after all, Bane had things to discuss with this Manta. Before that though he turned his head towards Lord Death Man, "When that day comes I will not disappoint you." With that said his attention turned towards Black Manta, "I will to speak to you at a later time about a subject most important. But before then, answer me this..."

"...Plato lives in Atlantis right?! DO NOT TELL ME PLATO MOVED AWAY BEFORE I COULD EVEN PAY HIM A VISIT AND MAKE HIM TAP OUT!"

"Certainly. As for Plato, I can't say for certain. Atlantis holds many things forgotten by man, however, and he could be one of them."

"Hhrm. A definitive answer would have been nice, but, HE IS SURELY THERE! And when I get my hands on Plato, I will throw him off the Dolphin he is using to race against Socrates and, what was his name, Tupac..."

"I'll see to it that my crew leave them to you, should we encounter them. It is good to see someone willing to hunt a foe with such zeal. I look forward to working with you, Bane."

"As do I." Behind the mask there was a huge grin as Bane began rubbing his hands together, "...Sooner or later Plato, you too Socrates and I definitely have not forgotten you Tupac. Each and everyone one of you will tap..."

Lord Death Man nodded and motioned to a stately mansion farther inland with his cane. "Well then, there's refreshments and accomodations for all up at the old manor. I'll be making the announcement in the banquet hall once all our guests arrive around lunch time."

With that, he started up the path to the manor, a trail beaten down by regular passage over the decades. From within the jungle, strange calls and vocalizations could be heard... none of which bothered Lord Death Man.

"If you want a translation, those cries come in two flavors- 'Do Me' or 'Stay off My Land.'"
In Heroes Reborn - A DCAU Roleplay (Always open!) → 7 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
October 28th
Queens, NY, United States

It wasn't long before a roach-headed young man in a nice suit would drag the man who assaulted the woman into a dark alley. Say what you will about their fashion sense, but the Death Syndicate was keeping Manhattan and Harlem's street crime down. The retribution for drug sales, child abuse, and damage to the property of the people (as long as their protection was paid up) was swift and brutal. It was the Yakuza way, as Death Man saw it- they keep the streets clean, they protect those the officials won't, and in return they get money and respect.

In fact, it was thanks to the remarkable efficiency of these criminals that most of New York didn't even realize the zombie epidemic that plagued America was still going. After the police started to panic while failing to maintain civil order, the Yakuza stepped forward. A few of the enforcers were doing regular patrols, making short work of anything coming out of hospitals, graveyards, butcher's shops, secret underground snuff film sets... all the typical things you find in New York City. Of course, there was also a hotline. It was a pretty simple setup. People called them. They showed up. They beat the shit out of zombies, hacked them to pieces, incinerated, melted, or whatever metahuman abilities were on hand. Once the zombie was cut up or incapacitated, it would be tossed into one of several woodchippers. The chunks twitched now and again, but they weren't doing anything on the way to the incinerator. Brutal and efficient.

As he started feeding the mugger's limbs into the woodchipper, Greg Samson, the Roach-Boy of Brooklyn, couldn't help but think Death Man would be proud.
In Heroes Reborn - A DCAU Roleplay (Always open!) → 7 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
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Mexico City, Arena Coliseo
July 13th 6:00 PM

Some would say that a world that celebrates violence in countless forms, this world is a black and unforgiving place. Well to the men, women and children who were gathered here they would probably share this sentiment to anyone who disputed the fun of violence; Color our world blackened, blackened.

Well while the world might have not immediately blackened, at the very least the arena itself quickly turned the lights off, with the only lights visible being a few lights down the ramp and the cellphones that illuminated sections of the stands who were trying to figure out who was coming out, if it would be Bane after all or if they were getting swerved with someone else.

The sounds of the crowd were starting to fill the air as no music had yet played; when suddenly both down on the ramp and on the titantron an illumating pair of red eyes appeared and blinked open as the lights shot back up to full view.

Bane stood at the center of the ramp, well after he dropped his dufflebag just under the ring, near the very curtain which led to the television control center of the Gorilla Position. His right hand was held up skywards as, his theme began to play. Bane swaggered down to the ring, deliberately rolling his fists around as he threw them up towards the crowd. It was a simple pattern, do it a bit with the right, then moving it on to the left.

Meanwhile at the Spanish Commentary desk, Hector "The Hand" Espinosa - a bald man in his late fifties with a piglike nose, used to be a luchador back in the day before he came down with a nasty back injury - was part of the current announce team. He was dressed in a simple black three piece suit with a canary yellow undershirt and a peach colored tie, and as many would attest to he still smelt of cigarette smoke.

["Ladies and Gentlemen, for all of you watching here live, at home, the bar, or for you kiddos out there anywhere where you can get a signal, let me welcome you to the Arena Coliseo for the Showdown of the Rising Suns! Up for grabs tonight for the winner of this tournament between our, well at the least my home of CFM and the RAW invaders is the MASK OF AZTECA. Only with mental and physical fortitude, not too mention a little bit of Lady Luck - believe me I've had a fair share of her grace - on their side, one man will achieve great honor and glory, not only for themselves but for their organization!"] Hector declared in his raspy voice as he beamed a grin showing off his, well lack of really, stained yellow teeth. He continued, ["And this kid here, the man they call Bane, I'm glad he found his break in the big leagues. Brave guy diving right in his debut to hang with these harded sharks of men from over the seas."] Hector chuckled for a moment, before he began wheezing a bit; after that he returned to his dialogue.

["Well I appreciate his testicular fortitude in boldly going out into this tournament while he's still fresh meat in these big leagues. His fighting spirit cannot be questioned but will it burn passionately enough to help progress him through to the next round?"]

At the edge of the wrestling ring, Bane made his way up the metal steps, through the top two ropes before heading to the far right corner. He climbed up to the top of the ropes as he slowly raised his right arm. Extending his pointer finger he circled around the arena to point at everyone, while he kept his footing on the ropes only bouncing from it slightly, before clutching his hand into a fist and dragging it down to his side.

Leaping down Bane stood in the corner flexing as he awaited his opponent to come to him.

["And now, the challenger!"]

Doyun Kim- the man who'd given Shousei Kougami, the promotion's owner, a ride earlier that day ran forward down the ramp as his entrance music blared. Taking a running jump from the stairs into the corner, he flipped up onto the turnbuckle and started pumping up the crowd. At the request of the referee, he shrugged, dropping down to lean on the corner.

["Looks like our first member of the Rogue Alliance of Wrestling is Doyun Kim- the Middleweight Champion of All Japan Pro Wrestling. This feisty Korean spends his time during RAW's off season as an MMA pro... but he doesn't have any titles from that little side venture yet!"] came from the other member of the two-man booth of the Spanish Commentary Team. This man was Yamashita Katsurou, a thin man who appeared to be in mid-thirties. He was dressed in a grey suit, a black tie with a white undershirt. He had short, but slick back hair which gleamed from the set's lightning. He pulled out a switch-blade comb, flicked it open and combed a bit of his hair before continuing.

["Still, for a guy his size, getting to the semifinals in those matchups is pretty impressive. He's one of the more agile members of RAW, but that leg injury he took in the octagon won't be doing him any favors tonight. His love of violence, on the other hand, might just help him pull through."]

["Who doesn't love some good carnage? That's a tune we can all brawl to. And that's certainly what these two are going to do.]

Bane carefully eyed his opponent, the Killer Korean, Douyn Kim. Just as these proceedings were about to start, well as soon as the bellkeeper rang the bell and after the ring announcer's spiel was done, Bane stopped the impromptu flexing, headed to the center of the ring and when he was there Bane spread his legs apart and began to square his shoulders. This luchador was ready to compete for the amusement of the crowd, and more importantly, for that prized mask. For his part, Doyun kept his feet spread as well, making his way cautiously to the center of the ring. Bane here was an unknown quantity, but he knew the gist of the script. The thing about the leg injury was true, but it was healed up by now. It was a way to save face for going down in the first round. He was ready for Bane, though he wasn't sure how well striking would go over against this opponent.

Alongside the two competitors was a woman who was dressed in a sequin red dress carrying a microphone.

["Laaaaadiiiiiiiies and Gentleeeemeeeeen, this match will be], quite a few fans in the audience chanted alongside her, [ ONE FALL! The winner of this match will progress to the next bracket in the tournament!"]

She gestured to Bane, ["FIGHTING FOR THE CFM, BAAAAAAAANE!"] Bane kept his position as he continued to staredown Doyun Kim.

["AAAAAND FIGHTING FOR THE ROGUE ALLIANCE OF WRESTLING, DOOOOOYUUUUN KIIIIIIIIM!"]

With the announcements done, she left under the ring ropes as the Timekeeper rang the bell to signify the match start.

Showdown of the Rising Suns Early Bracket: Bane vs Doyun Kim, Arena Coliseo

And so Bane charged at Doyun Kim with his left arm extended to start off the affairs with a clothesline. For his part, Kim was going to press his agility as best he could. He ducked the clothesline and stepped to the side, taking a quick punch at Bane's side as he did; Bane stumbled back a bit from the punch, Kim after all needed to go a bit over, especially as he had that MMA career mojo on his side. However Bane of course felt that he could not sell too much, after all he was a strong man, so after regaining himself he ran a bit towards Kim before diving in an attempt to get Kim with a spear. Perhaps it was a bit early for a move such as that, but at this moment it felt right to Bane to be a bit flashy. For what it was worth, the spear hit its mark. Doyun obviously knew how to sell this one, exhaling sharply and staggering back.

Bane got up before speaking briefly, loudly enough for Doyun to hear, but hopefully quiet enough so no snoopy dirtsheets could claim the call was a botch. ["Too stiff?"] With that said Bane began to throw a few more worked punches at Doyun's direction.

Doyun's spanish was, surprisingly, quite good. Whatever his martial art was, he knew how to do functional, but flashy, blocks. ["Nah, I work with other strikers a lot."]
["Good."]Bane took a few steps back before throwing a, telegraphed, right elbow at Doyun. Doyun ducked under, delivering a few quick punches to Bane's stomach before leaping back. Bane, buckled down a bit as he held his arms over his chest for a moment. He then began to circle around towards Doyun as if he was stalking prey. He lifted back his arms and began moving his hands back and forth, ready to pounce. And as he pounced, Bane attempted to perform a double axehandle, a move involving Bane clutching both of his fists together, as he swung them to strike Kim on the head. Kim took it, falling to one knee and springing back again, making sure to sell the stumble as he landed on his left leg and shook his head. He gave Bane a cocky grin and "come at me" as he steadied himself.

And now as the story had been expressed by Kim, Bane would be sure to do his part in order to sell the story in the ring. Outside the ring the commentators would most surely sell it as it should be, once again charged at Duyon, starting off with a feint jab, before moving in with the attempt to take him down with a single leg takedown on Kim's bad leg. Doyun moved to block the feint, though he took the takedown like a champ, crying out and collapsing. Still, he wasn't going down easily, lashing out with a leg sweep with his good leg. He was still, naturally, quite hurt, as the script dictated.

Bane reacted quite naturally to the leg sweep as he motioned to the side away from the strike and towards the ground. From here Bane transitioned into a kneebar, as he went to trap Duyon Kim's good leg in between his own and after securing his arms around the leg, Bane began to stretch the leg.

["Tap."] Bane tersely stated.

Doyun knew the role in this tournament. He made a show of the struggle, wincing and struggling, but eventually tapped out, gasping for air. The referee came over to separate the two, leaving Doyun to look down at his leg as two men with a stretcher came to retrieve him.

As the referee and the two work medics came, Bane simply nodded his head in approval of Doyun, but as the bellkeeper rang the bell to signal the end of the match, Bane hopped on the rops and began thrusting his fist into the air as his music played.

Above an updated graphic had a large 'X' pop over Doyun before moving to a bracket which showed the updated competitors. With that done, alongside his bit of celebration, Bane rolled out of the ring and headed to the back for a brief rest before he would be called once again to the ring.

----

After this match, the crowd were introduced to various promo packages from the competitors who were stating their desires about why they wanted to win the Tournament. Some like El Guacho gave a promo about how they looked up to Aztec the First and how it inspired them to become a proper wrestler.

Bane didn't necessarily give so much of a speech as much as simply pointing towards his own Mask and nodding, the solemn respect that a luchador could offer another luchador. It was the way of the mask, Bane knew it and those who did know the 'Honor Code of Lucha' would get it, everyone else didn't matter.

Loco Loro had an enthusiastically delivered package detailing about the payoff that was going to the winner and of course how he was always destined to fly to the top.

Kid Phoenix spoke of how it was great to face off against other agile fighters- his acrobatic style needed testing against folks who didn't focus on the ground game as much as practitioners of Strong Style, and Luchadores made for perfect opponents.

The remaining wrestler- a disgraced sumo- talked about how his powerful techniques would crush any luchador's style.

Senketsu Joe played the heel nicely- speaking of how Aztec was one of the only luchadors he could bring himself to respect. How he wanted to take that mask and protect it from those who wouldn't live up to the legacy.

These segments served as a bit of time filler so that the talent would be called back to the arena, to stir up interest for the upcoming matches due to investing in the talents that were being presented. As each of these matches were coming to ahead, the jumbotron above kept a steady picture of the current bracket standings.
---

Behind the scenes, Death Man had already set to work. Splicing into the cables leading to the titantron wasn't any big deal, really- a quick "smoke break" as one of RAW's promoters had given him all the private time he needed. He'd even located the mask and appropriated it- treated as some worthless prop. Originally, he had planned to simply abscond with it in silence. But the conditions it was kept in, then suddenly whipped out had made him angry. No, now he was off-script. Now he was going to make these fools pay for disrespecting the mask. He sat down in front off the chair and waited.
----

...["With the diving fist drop Loco Loro, whiffed, and got the ref instead."] Hector stated bemused as he placed his hands on his head. Yamashita smirked as he watched as Joe took advantage of this unique opportunity from this botch.

["And Senkentsu Joe goes for the Hangman's Choke!"] eagerly declared Yamashita, while Hector was banging his hands on the desk. ["Ref are you blind!? That's illegal!"] cried out Hector as he watched as Loco Loro had his will of life drained from him, as he was stuck in a sleeper hold within the ropes. Slicking back his hair Yamashita smirked, ["What they don't see won't hurt them. Kid shouldn't have tried to go to the ropes. When Joe's around, you're in a no fly zone."] Hector snarled as he shook his head.

["Ref c'mon, GET IN THERE!"] bemoaned Hector as the ref returned back into the ring to see a knocked out Loco Loro. ["Day late and a dollar short, well if you were a fan of Loco anyway. I'll give the kid this, he did make a wonderful combo, but all things must come crashing back down to earth, and Joe will bring them down."]

...

["JESUS, MARY AND JOSEPH!"] exclaimed Hector as he looked down at the carnage that happened to their desk set. The Spanish Announce Table was a shattered pile of wood, both in flaming debris and regular debris, that held the masked man known as Bane crashed in the middle of it. Standing triumphantly Kid Phoenix began swinging his flaming right leg up and down to the admiration of the crowd.

["Ha! That's the blazing spirit of Kid Phoenix for you; he'll light himself on fire if that means he can get an advantage and take you down. And that Flaming Frog Splash from the top ropes certainly brought that shooting star downwards."]

["Don't count on it just yet. Bane is still stirring with some fighting spirit."] Hector remarked as Bane arose from the ashes to catch Kid Phoenix by surprise and caught Kid Phoenix in a front face-lock. Bane transitioned this into a vertical suplex and slammed Kid Phoenix into the ruined table that he created. As the ref continued counting, Bane slid back into the ring and watched as Kid Phoenix was counted out.
___
Showdown of the Rising Suns Semi-Finals: Senketsu Joe the Fifth vs Bane, Arena Coliseo, 7:55 PM

Through a rough series of matches, the collective of Japanese and Mexican wrestlers began to dwindle as the cream among them were rising to the tops. At this particular round of the semi-finals, two men, one Japanese and one Mexican clawed their way to the top.

These two were the established superstar, Senketsu Joe the Fifth and the rising talent, the one simply known as Bane.

["I hope you folks are ready, because we have a legacy versus the new blood! Senketsu Joe is the fifth to don the mask of the man deemed too brutal for the ring! Holding two heavyweight belts in the various Japan Pro Wrestling circuits for five years running, he has earned his place in history!"]

Amid the smoke and darkness, fountain fireworks went off as a large, burly man in a full-body suit made to look like the human circulatory system walked through the sparks. He thrust his fists upward and let out a hearty laugh before running for the ring, performing a surprisingly agile front-flip to clear the ropes.

["Standing at a whopping six and a half feet tall, weighing in at over two hundred and eighty pounds of muscle! The strongest and nastiest that the Rogue Alliance of Wrestling has to offer! Presenting, the one, the only: Senketsu Joe The Fifth!"]

"And challenging, the rising force of CFM, standing at five feet six inches, weighing in at two huuundred and eighty five pounds, BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANE!"

Once again Bane's theme began to play. He simply settled for entering through the middle ropes and pointing around to the crowd with his right index finger. After he finished pointing up towards the rafters, he pointed towards the jumbotron which currently displayed a portrait of the Mask of Azteca.

Pointing back to himself, Bane flexed and readied himself.

Once again the ring announcer explained the rules; that this particular match, the penultimate battle with the winner facing El Guacho for the chance to win the tournament, was a one fall match, with disqualification and count outs at play. With her job finished, she rolled out of the arena so these wrestlers could duke it out.

The bell rang to signal that the match was now official and had begun. Bane pounded on his chest with his right hand before stomping up towards Senketsu Joe the Fifth in order to challenge this wrestler in their field. Extending his right arm wide, Bane whipped it against Senketsu's chest.

It appeared that the luchador wanted to engage this man in a contest of strength, done in a traditional fashion in Puroresu. One could only imagine whether this was done in an attempt to mock and embarass Senketsu Joe the Fifth in his area of expertise, or if it was done as a sign of respect. Joe, meanwhile, ran forward to meet the charge, grabbing for Bane's neck for a typical lock stalemate. A fairly standard start to a match for two grapplers. While the two grappled, however, Joe kicked at Bane's calf. Bane took some damage from this attack, and began to falter downwards, so Joe had the advantage. However this could prove to be an opportunity for the masked man; Bane attempted to bring Joe's elbow away so he could do a proper duckunder and weasel his way around his opponent for a better position and perhaps attack with a suplex. Of course, a momentary distraction can cost a lot- especially with an experienced grappler. Joe brought his head back, and gave Bane a mighty headbutt, attempting to distance himself from Bane a bit.

"[LISTEN UP, AMIGO, BECAUSE I'M GONNA SAY THIS ONCE!]"

"[THERE ARE THREE FUNDAMENTALS OF WRESTLING. DOYUN'S KOREAN MARTIAL ARTS MAKE HIM A POWERFUL, AGILE FIGHTER, BUT HE'S PATHETIC AT FOULS.]"

"[KID PHOENIX IS AN AGILE GUY WHO FIGHTS DIRTY, BUT HIS MOVES DON'T HAVE A LOT OF POWER BEHIND THEM BEYOND THE FIRE.]"

"[AND THAT SUMO IN THE LAST ROUND IS A POWERFUL JACKASS WHO CHEATS, BUT HE'S AS AGILE AS A GODDAMN HIPPO!]"

"[SO ASK YOURSELF... HOW DO YOU FIGHT A MAN WHO HAS MASTERED THE THREE FUNDAMENTALS OF WRESTLING?]"

The headbutt was successful at its intended goal, Bane staggered backwards as he was struck from the blow. He listened carefully to the lesson that Senketsu Joe was teaching in his boastful speech. Bane needed to out-think, out-manuever and out-power Joe, as a master of these three arts could only be defeated by a superior master of those three essentials, or one with a fourth essential.

["BY BEING THEIR BANE!"] roared out Bane as he rushed towards Joe to grab an arm and fling him towards the turnbuckles in an Irish Whip. As Bane threw him towards the turnbuckle, however, Joe dove to the side at the last minute- sliding between the top two ropes and leaving the ring, landing in a painful-looking roll into the announcer table. He dashed back in as fast as he could. However, the titantron's picture began to waver as a cloud of static overcame it, and a new entrance theme played. The screen showed a laughing skull- followed by various headlines in various languages. "SKULL-FACED JAP BAFFLES GIs." "MYSTERIOUS THIEF BURGLARIZES ST. PETERSBURG ARMORY." "MASKED MIKADO OF MAYHEM MYSTIFIES MANTIS."

Interspersed were clips from some Japanese cartoon, all featuring the same man in a skeleton costume. Finally, a voice clip.

"A heist is all about aesthetics! It requires style, coolness, and nobility! The ultimate contest of wits? Stealing today, tomorrow and everything in between! I am The Phantom Thief..."



Finally, the camera shifted to a costumed man reclining comfortably in an office chair, drinking wine through his somehow unstained mask. Three suitcases sat on the desk in front of him as he stood up and held his hands up on either side.

"SALUDOS, Mexico City! You came here to watch masked men in the ring, but I'm afraid there's one more behind the scenes thanks to the shoddy security systems!"

Tapping his cane to the side of his head, Death Man continued, reaching under the desk and putting a picture of the most famous Luchadores of all time on the table- an unmistakable figure in a silver mask, Followed by Fray Tormenta, and finally Azteca 1.

"And I've been thinking. Back during the second World War, there was an attempt by the axis to turn Mexico against the United States. During that time, I was here in Mexico attempting to gather intelligence at Emperor Hirohito Tojo's behest. I saw a truly amazing spectacle- one of El Santo's first matches! And the most beautiful part was that it wasn't staged. Glorious combat between two actual competitors!"

Lord Death Man sighed, seemingly lost in the nostalgia as he looked at the pictures. He sighed and replaced them on the desk.

"And, while I decry the death of shoot promotions outside Japan, today my heart goes out to the luchadores. You are, possibly, the last people on Earth who understand the value of a mask. And I can understand the pain you feel. Nobody cared who you were until you put on the mask."

With that, Death Man opened the middle suitcase and took out a red and blue mask, adorned with a massive topaz, to the gasps of the attending crowd.

"Take Aztec The First... a salt miner from an impoverished town seeking money to build a school. He claimed he had mystical might that came from the Star of Quetzlcoatl, the gem he built into his mask. However, whether or not that element is true, the fact remains- he was a strong man, both in character and in the ring. This mask, it became a symbol to so many! But no, the audience today doesn't really care about that... They're here to watch a violent spectacle, so that CFM's golden boy El Gaucho can don it. No honor, no attempt to actually earn it..."

Death Man pointed his cane to the camera, smiling underneath the mask.

"And that is why, I have come to make an announcement!"

["Cut the feed and call the fucking police."] the lead promoter from CFM shouted frantically to one of the backstage agents manning the monitors at the gorilla position.

["Sir, I've been try-"] answered the closest agent before getting interrupted by the promoter who was already losing his mind.

["Did I fucking stutt- What do you mean you've been trying?!"]
---

Mexico City Police Department
July 13th, 8:00 PM

Throughout the parking lot and halls, the police faced a rather... interesting problem. The floors, parking lot, and offices were currently being patrolled. Not by any human- the humans were hiding in bathrooms and cells. No, tonight the ones travelling the methodical routes tonight were a swarm of cobras, slithering about. The phones in dispatch were ringing constantly... but a number of cobras were already curled up quite comfortably around them. Officer Santiago decided to be a hero and make a break for it. Maybe, if he could make it to a car, he could radio a patrolman or something. He gritted his teeth, gripped his pistol, and made for the door, raising his gun to take a shot at a cobra... which sprayed him in the eyes even as he pulled the trigger. The shot went wild. Officer Santiago was blinded that night. He didn't know how things would turn out- but he would now and forever fear the snake.
---

"Going forward, the final round will be a Shoot match! The winner will receive three prizes: The first, two hundred thousand pesos! The second, the mask of Aztec that I now hold! And finally, a personal gift from yours truly: The opportunity to join the greatest criminal enterprise in history!"

Bane clenched his right fist as he began pounding it in an open hand. Certainly this was a serendipitous boon to the luchador, he wouldn't have to force his way into claiming it against the wishes of the promotion. That specter he saw on the television at that fateful morning at the gym was here. And he understood the mask, this much was clear from that broadcast and now properly putting up for a prize in a real battle. Bane was not about to lose his chance at the prize, nor would he disappoint this man.

He had to make a good impression, Lord Death Man was watching. That skeleton needed to know that he was another student of the mask; and Bane was ready to conquer all who stood before him.

And with that Bane went charging towards Joe to strike with a shoulder tackle. Joe dodged to the side, sticking out his leg and attempting to trip Bane.

"[Look. There's one more round. You wanna run down your gas tank fighting me, or you want to save it for Gaucho?]"

Bane noticed the leg and began to dive through the ropes, ["You make a good point."] but he did not dive through the ropes and in fact managed to hang on to the second rope. Swinging on his side around through the ropes, Bane performed a Tiger Feint Kick to strike Joe. ["But who said we were going back to a regular scheduled program?"]

["Lord Death Man ain't one to skip on planning. He'll have something set up. But I've been watching Gaucho's matches. I can teach you the techniques he won't be able to counter, but I'm not sure you've got the mass for 'em."]

Swinging back through the ropes without contact, Bane struck his feet back on the ground and stood back up, taking a bit of time for a breather. ["Do not worry about the mass, my body is a pristine temple that can handle it and I would say more."]

["Alright... then prepare for the brutal technique passed down by the original Senketsu Joe! Prepare your body for... SENKETSU HELL!"]

Joe rushed forward, grabbing for Bane's neck and thigh and lifting him up onto his shoulders. Pulling Bane's chest and arms down, Joe pulled tighter and tighter. Ordinarily, Bane's strength would prove more than a match for such a hold. However...

["First, the backbreaker! Disorient your foe... and just as they are about to break out...]"

Joe fell to the side, bringing Bane's head straight down onto the canvas... and indeed, through it, Bane's head sticking out the bottom of the ring. Joe jumped backward upon the landing, going for the ropes to help build momentum.

["A Japanese mat is firmer, meaning this technique is a good deal more lethal. However, a Lucha mat is softer to allow for a better airgame. These are key differences you'll need to know in the ring if you want to work for Death Man."]

Bane clawed his hands deep into the mat as Senketsu Joe illustrated the manuever. To a normal man, and with the proper mat, this would be the most dangerous technique. Fortunately Bane was not an ordinary man; pushing down against the mat he roared as he ripped his head out through the mat and emerged. Heaving, Bane turned around to face Senketsu Joe the Fifth.

["Hm."] Bane mused as he clutched his right hand over his chest before rolling his neck around. ["I still have much to learn it seems to be a truly masterful warrior."] After rolling his neck around he moved to rolling around his shoulders, ["Good. This means I can progress further. I thank you for showing me this."] Bane said with small nod to Senketsu Joe.

["Now, I need El Guacho."]

Meanwhile as this was going on, the crowd and commentary just watched in a stunned silence unsure of how to respond to the events that quickly unfurled before them.

["Hehehe... yeah."] With that, Joe gave a thumbs-up to Bane and made his way over to the announcer's table. He promptly picked up a mic and made an announcement.

["RAW didn't sign up for this shit. I just came here to see Mexicans getting hurt, and I don't care if it's me or Bane doing it. Just send me my damn check, I'm out."]

With that, Joe dropped the mic and headed for the arena's exit, rolling his shoulders as he made his way out.

-----
Meanwhile, in the locker room, El Gaucho was cornered by a swarm of cobras, hissing menacingly. He became a luchador with CFM to avoid shit like this. He expected it from bushleague tier and those hardcore promotions but hoped that moving to CFM would give him a sense of safe professionalism in his work. But at least the dumb animals had left him an opening. A clear path from the locker room to a nearby door. El Guacho needed to manuever through this gracefully, no way would his medical insurance company believe that he was attacked by a swarm of cobras at one of his performances. With that El Guacho began dashing and hopping his way through multitudes of cobras in order to reach that door to freedom.

Back inside the ring, Bane began pacing back and forth. ["El Guacho! You can't hide from me! I am waiting!"] In an attempt to get some measure of control of the situation, a pair of referees hopped in the ring and attempted to calm down Bane and try to convince him that this wasn't worth it, and that this was just some manner of trick and things were still going to go on as planned.

[ "I WILL NOT BE DEEEENIIIIIED!" ] roared out Bane as he hooked one of the referees with a headlock and transitioned into a fisherman's suplex as he sent the referee flying. The other referee scurried back as security were swarming towards the mat; but the results were the same as most times when security got involved in wrestling angles...

...lots of security agents took a beating.

While lower on gastank, he still had enough for this task. Bane began battering security guards with flurries of jabs, elbows and a few lariats. Bane carved his way towards the back to find El Guacho so he could finally earn the prizes that Lord Death Man put up for stake.

["YOU, THE MONEY AND THE MASK SHALL BE MINE! LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORD DEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAATH MAAAAAAAAAAAN ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED!?"] was uttered in a rather dramatic fashion as Bane forced his way towards the back to collect the few belongings he left at the arena, and more importantly to find El Guacho.

In the locker room, sitting on one of the benches and with a cobra on either side, a figure in a black cape and skull mask sat, watching a pocket television that would have been outdated 20 years ago. Still, it got the transmission well enough, and as he leaned on his cane, he nodded.

"Quite impressive work, Bane. I must admit, since I stole the matchup card, I was curious about you. Wondered why they would let new talent go so far in his first appearance. Nevertheless, you took a bit longer than I thought you would."

Bane gave a bow towards Lord Death Man, "I am glad. Hopefully not too long?" he spoke as he opened up his locker and ripped out his dufflebag without paying much mind to some of his pads that fell out.

"Oh, no, but those lockers smell like ass and I was hiding in one for like... ten minutes. El Gaucho was in here but... something or other scared him off, I suppose."

"Hmrphm." Bane grumbled out as he opened up his dufflebag and took out one of the many containers of Venom that was stashed within it. Attaching this first container of his most precious drug to the system, he mused. "Any plan for getting out?"

"Well, I suppose I can give you a lift. We do have a submarine to catch." Death Man swung his cane about, letting the cobras slither up into his cape as he made for the exit. "I think you'll fit right in with what I'm planning if you're willing to bring that no-nonsense attitude to the criminal world."

"You understand The Code the Way of the Mask. As such my services are at your disposal." Bane explained as he took out another canister and put it into place. "However I was not able to catch El Guacho; was my performance enough to earn those rewards?"

Under the mask, Death Man sighed and gave a smile. Not exactly what you'd expect from a Yakuza boss- a warm, friendly one, almost fatherly.

"Bane, I have an excellent eye for rising young talent. You are, frankly, wasted in a promotion like the CFM. You have the potential to become one of the greatest criminals of the modern age, and as an elder... well, it's my solemn duty to help you and others come into your own. The 'civilized' world turns its back on us, those who were abused and abandoned, so it's only right we look out for each other. That's how the Yakuza started, and that's how we remain."

Reaching into a duffle bag of his own, Death Man withdrew a number of other cobras, sticking them under his cape.

"Now, let's go. Our ride is waiting."
In Heroes Reborn - A DCAU Roleplay (Always open!) → 7 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
July 4th, FBI Headquarters
7:30 AM EST

Two men in suits- not the sort of nice suits you've come to expect from a Death Man post, but the sort of suits a man in a government position is required to wear to work- sat in a meeting room, briefing their superior. The man was a gruff, gray-haired type, absolutely typical of this position in fiction- down to the cigar he was chomping as he went over their documents.

"Okay, let's go over this one more time."

"It started in New York, with the theft at the crime museum... and then burglarizing the apartments of his victims. Since, he's been moving southwest." The shorter of the suited men spoke up, wearing a dark grey number.

"From the storage of a museum in Gotham, New Jersey, he stole five ingots of unknown metals, engraved with the iconography of an owl. Probably belonging to one of that haunted shithole's billion conspiracies." The taller, his suit a dark blue, continued.

"There's no proof it's haunted, Roger." The short one replied.

"The asylum bleeds, Ed." The tall man, apparently named Roger, shot back.

"Gentlemen."

"...Right. From Hub City, he broke into the national history museum and stole a number of fossilized dinosaur eggs. They'd be worth a lot to collectors, but not something that'd be easy to fence." Roger continued. Ed, however, rolled his eyes.

"Roger, if half of the stories we have from the World War II era are true, I'm pretty sure he can find a guy to buy the damn eggs."

"Honestly, it might be a collection deal. Maybe he steals as a strange kind of... performance art, almost." Roger muttered, looking at the cigar box on the table. Their superior handed one over as he grunted.

"You two aren't here to profile this weirdo, you're here to give me your report."

Ed took a few quick puffs on the cigar as he continued. "Sorry sir. Anyway, he made his way to Metropolis, where he broke into LexCorp's lab. We don't know how he got past the security system. Stole several mildly radioactive space crystals of varying color."

That seemed to worry their superior.
"Radioactive? Is he building a-"

"They're less radioactive than a Uranium watch. We checked, Gold, Green, Blue, and Pink specimens were stolen. He seems to have a fondness for objects of singular nature."

"Such as?"

"The Amber Room."

Roger turned, raising an eyebrow. "I thought that was the Nazis, Ed."

"Nah, Roger, the Nazis stole it, then Death Man stole it from the Nazis in transit. According to the file, he left a letter saying it was because Hitler insulted his costume... and misappropriated a Buddhist symbol."

Now that got the superior's attention. "Okay hold on. You say he met, and was insulted by Hitler. How old is this guy?"

"...Well... The first sighting of Death Man was in Japan, before World War I."

"How long before World War I?"

"...Well... 1910, sir."

The superior didn't take that well. He inhaled deeply, face turning purple with rage, and snatched the cigar from Ed's mouth.

"I'm sorry, I must have fucking misheard, because it SOUNDED like you said this guy's over a century old."

"...Well... there's a number of possibilities, but as you know, Japan doesn't like sharing information with outsiders. Our current theory is that there is no single Death Man, and that the mask is passed along through generations of criminals after they find a worthy successor."

The superior took a deep breath. You could almost hear him counting to ten in his head.

"...So what you're saying is, after he robs a bank in broad daylight, tears a swathe through the Eastern Seaboard, and hijacks a broadcast... We don't even know the real name behind it."

"He uh... well, we know he has ties to organized crime. We're just not quite sure what."
---
July 13th, Mexico City International Airport
6:00 AM

It would have been a tight fit in that box, even for a master contortionist. It would have been a tighter squeeze through the airport's vents. And that's why Shousei Kougami, owner of the Rogue Alliance of Wrestling, had bought a ticket from Houston. He could have used one of his Deathmobiles stashed across the country, but the US Border was something he just didn't have time to account for if he was going to make the tournament- and the heist that awaited amid the hustle and bustle of the crowd. After retrieving his belongings from baggage claim, he met a Korean man in a grey suit at the curb. A Chevy Nova, not something Shousei had ever ridden in before. He put his luggage into the trunk and climbed into the passenger's seat as they pulled away from the airport, speaking to each other in Japanese.

"Alright, Doyun, what's the deal?"

["The usual, Mr. Kougami. We brought the wrestlers most popular with the Mexican demographic. Kid Phoenix's combination of oil wrestling and acrobatics proves to be a hit. Silver Stag and Big Beet are our faces. And, of course, Senketsu Joe gets a lot of respect for being a legacy... and one of Japan's top heels."]

Doyun offered Shousei a bottled coke, which he accepted gladly. This dry heat was not at all what he was accustomed to.

"I don't mean our wrestlers, Doyun, I mean the Mexican ones."

["Well... it's fairly standard for them as well. El Gaucho, Loco Loro, the works. But... they seem to have some new talent."]

Shousei looked to the driver and raised in eyebrow.

"...They're starting a new guy in a tournament?"

["Yeah, the card says he goes down to Joe in the fourth round. Joe goes to the finals and loses a close match."]

"...They're letting a new guy get to the fourth round, where he goes down to RAW's star Heel."

This was unusual for... any number of reasons. Whether it was physique, performance, or personality, someone that could get that kind of respect from a promotion like El Combate Federacion de Mesoamerica must be something special. They were known to be less than helpful to new talent. Someone with the kind of draw that even CFM could recognize was worth recruiting to RAW.

"I need everything you can get me about this... this... What's the guy's name?"

["They call him... "Bane.""]
---

July 13th, Arena Coliseo, 5:30 PM

Ultimately the time had finally arrived, this would be the moment that all of Bane's hardwork was leading up to. He was going to win the Mask of Azteca, not for the Combate Federacion de Mesoamerica, but he was going to win it for himself. Only he truly deserved that mask, for he knew the history behind it. He understood the bloodsport of ages past, Bane cherished them and basked in their glory. No one was going to stop him from claiming his rightful prize. Not those foreigners who thought they could waltz in and claim it; nor would any of the other stars of the lucha promotion that Bane was acting as a mercenary for would retain it for them.

Underneath a pair of lockers Bane sat down on a bench feeling an intense bloodlust flowing through his veins. All he needed at this moment would be his bloodlust, for he had no doubt in his abilities. Venom would not be needed here; after all the white mat jungle was a place of honor. And while Bane was a rudo, he still had a semblance of honor.

Unjust as it was, Bane was to be a hero for this single moment. These competitors deserved at least a fighting shot, a shot that any man with two hands could take, to claim victory. Plus Bane knew enough about the ways of the fans and the tradition of wrestling to know that no matter what he did, he was probably going to be cheered tonight by the fans. He was part of the home team, a warrior who practiced their traditional fighting style of lucha libre, who was going against the invading foreigners, those students of 'Strong Style'.

Unwarranted cheers would be flung upon Bane; well at the very least until end where Bane would illustrate to all, that despite being a familiar warrior, he was not to be celebrated.

But until then, the fans could cheer their hearts out. Hope would not be extinguished for either the viewer-base or the competitors; that would be premature. It needed to seed and germinate inside their hearts before Bane allowed all hope to die.

He knew that his matches would be starting soon, and so Bane had to make himself presentable. After all no wrestler worth their salt would just come into the ring, wearing street clothes or without a proper entrance in mind. It was as much about the initial appearance, if not more so, than the work inside the ring.

So Bane opened up his locker and began to make the final preparations. The first he grabbed out were his spiked knee pads. Bane stared at them for a moment before deciding against putting them on, so they were returned back to the locker. Well that wasn't needed, nor was his 'bragging title'.

Hm. Well this was probably going to be a plain opening in that case; so Bane simply just grabbed some white hand-wraps, sat down on the bench and began applying it.

With that done it was time for the real show to begin...
...But first he probably wanted to move his devious duffelbag under the ring. Hope was to die after all.
---
For a showing of lucha libre there was no better place for experiencing the spectacle of violence that was lucha libre than the Arena Coliseo. This building had a rich history, what with being built in the 1940s for the promotion CMLL in order to serve as the primary base of operations. However over the years they didn't have much of a stranglehold over this particular arena due to the fact that they constructed Arena México to serve as their new base for shows.

While Arena México held more prestige now, due to CMLL moving to it for primary business, alongside being the largest venue built specifically for professional wrestling, Arena Coliseo was still very important to the sport. And this arena was certainly a good location to host a proper tournament for an icon as cherished as the Mask of Azteca. Even beyond that, this arena still could boast a rather massive audience with a seating capacity of 16,500.

And the center of attention to all who were in attendance, was the squared circle. The illustrious white mat jungle, where men would enter and if the fates, well perhaps the more cynical would just explain it as 'booking', allowed they would achieve great honor and glory in victory. This ring was a standard four sided ring with black covered turnbuckle pads and three sets of white rope which were easy to give way for high flying aerial moves, fitting with the particular flavor of violence that the people demanded. And of course the mats of the ring themselves were made of a thick canvas, which showed its age as it would spit up dust if a particular nasty bump was done upon it.

And also of note was the positioning of the commentary team, which was right next to the ring for a 'clear view of the action', which in actuality meant that their tables, the English commentary tables, but strangely not the Japanese commentary tables, were destined to be destroyed in all sorts of interesting ways.

Around the ground level stands, there were only a few minor metal cage fences surrounding the area, which were mostly to keep the wrestlers from landing in the crowd all too often. The beer bottles, batteries and other nasty things that would be thrown by the crowd either because they were displeased at the vile nature of the heel, or just out of drunken fun, were not really stopped by this. Security would most likely deal with them, unless they were a diehard mark and were willing to be unprofessional just to get a dig in.

As for the ramp to the ring proper, it was rather unremarkable, but it served its purpose for letting wrestlers in and out to the ring in an efficient manner.

A set of images quickly flashed on the jumbotron that hung just above the ring; it depicted the two contestants who were next in the upcoming matches. The first image was of the RAW Promotion's very own Doyun Kim, and the second being the image of CFM's newest acquisition, the luchador Bane. After these wrestlers were shown there was a quick transition to an image of a bracket depicting the various talent on both Team Mexico and Team Japan and their current standings.

But one thing was for certain, no matter how these brackets were going to progress.

This was going to be a display of spectacular violence!
In Heroes Reborn - A DCAU Roleplay (Always open!) → 7 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
July 2nd, Good Morning America News Broadcast
7:30 AM EST

"...totalling nearly two and a half million dollars as the follow-up robberies from the daring daytime heist of New York's International Museum of Crime concluded with the theft of Angela Weatherby's antique furniture. In sports n-"

BRRRRRRRZZT! Went the static as a spinning skull graphic with the words "Please Stand By" plastered itself across the screen... shortly before a familiar skeleton-masked man- this time wearing an expensive-looking suit- spun around in a high-backed office chair sat behind a fancy-looking desk in one of the most opulent rooms ever seen. He stroked a king cobra sitting on the armrest. Raising a finger and leaning over the desk, he began.

"Attention, citizens! There is nothing wrong with your television set! Do not attempt to adjust the picture, for there is but one man who controls the horizontal AND the vertical! And his name is..."



After a brief indulgence of jazz hands, Death Man sat back down, A pie chart appeared behind him, shifting its pie sizes as he pointed at it on what was presumably a greenscreen with his cane. The cobra seemed very interested in the motions of the cane.

"I, Lord Death Man, bring joyous news. American citizens have noticed a slight change in the climate of their local criminal underworld. By volume, there are fewer kidnappings, drugs sold, and weird illegal porn operations. However, there are more protection services, cheap goods, gambling dens, and creative crimes."

Three portraits popped up- On the left, what was presumably a middle-aged man in a toga with a laurel wreath wearing a mask of Julius Caesar. In the center, a Mexican bandito in a pink, teal, and purple bandana and poncho depicting palm trees tipped up his sombrero with a pistol straight out of an 80's sci-fi movie. On the right,a Japanese man with a lab coat and a bodysuit with a circuitry diagram drawn over it stood triumphantly on the hood of a car, cackling madly.

"Such incidents include the recent theft of a third edition Aberdeen Beastiary from the Gotham Library by Sam Socrates, the Thinking Man's Crook. Out West, the Vaporwave Vaquero and his House Horsemen have used their Laser Lassos to complete a daring robbery of a freight train! They're on the fast track to becoming full-fledged members! Of course, they'll have to keep up with the boys back home in Tokyo. Why, Dr. Denki stole a set of concept cars from the Tokyo Motor Show!"

With a heavy sigh, Death Man shook his head and organized some papers.

"However, I'm afraid it's not all good news today. It seems that Gotham local Anarkee has no sense of showmanship, allowing for 20 victims in her latest crime... which, pretty much, just amounted to a gas attack. I'm not mad, young lady. Just disappointed. The Death Syndicate's hearts go out to her victims and their families. Compounding the criminal world's frustrations, Grim and Lady Arcana are continuing their crusades against the criminal caste. I issue this warning! Do not interfere in the affairs of the Death Syndicate, or you may find yourself facing against the Master of Mortality- a foe not even the Impossibles could overcome!"

Lord Death Man changed tone, back to his bombastic declarations, as another image came up- several horses.

"In sports news, I'm going to steal the Kentucky Derby next year. I grant you a year to build your defenses- but know this! There is no vault I cannot conquer, no guard I cannot elude. I am called a phantom thief for a reason, and the Derby shall be mine!"

Lord Death Man was looking at his mask in a mirror, making motions mimicking combing his hair despite his mask before stowing the mirror and picking the cobra back up. It seemed to be sleeping.

"Oh, by the way, for our viewers at home- if you are seeing this, then I have escaped with the fossilized dinosaur eggs from the Hub City Museum of Natural History. I'm heading to Houston. Gonna knock over NASA mission control." Death Man gave a cocky smile that could be seen from beneath his mask as he pointed finger guns at the camera. "Try and stop me! Death Man... out!"

BZZZRT!

The pirate broadcast immediately cut back to the news, showing the tail end a saccharine clip from Youtube that everyone's grandmother had been sending them for months. The newswoman did her best to feign interest.

"-st the cutest little kitten?"

The newscaster looked around, confused. Though the viewers couldn't see it, the crew had been frantically trying to figure out what happened with their equipment

"...Is there something wrong?
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