Simple Unicycle

Absolute Comics - Season Two: The Monster Within

I had some ideas to bring other former Charlton characters into the game as supporting NPCs, but Captain Atom wouldn't mesh well with the Question so I was planning on leaving him out.

Absolute Comics - Season Two: The Monster Within

Hat Roy is best Roy don't @ me

Absolute Comics - Season Two: The Monster Within

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_{Location: Hub City, Illinois - United States}

Issue #1: Who Are You?

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_{Interaction(s): None}

Previously: N/A

I woke up unable to recall my own name.

The room was cold and damp, with no decorations to speak of. A small window behind me, a ray of pale moonlight seeping through the glass and onto the brick walls. The only exit was a door dead ahead. I tried to push myself up but found my hands tied behind my back with rope, my legs also tied up, and I was unable to move too much without chafing my wrists and ankles. How long had I been here, passed out and tied up?

I needed to think... What can I remember?

-----

It was raining, the sky above me the color of a television tuned to a dead channel. An informant of mine, an old drunkard named Roscoe, had provided me with a tip. He said that there were shady things going on at this address, something a man of my talents would be able to bust no problem. The address led to an old shack, tucked cozily into a back alley in The Wedge. I waited outside, pressed up against the wall of the shack and peeking in through the window at a group of men playing poker.

"Yo Johnny, you got any sixes?" one man asked, looking intently at another man, Johnny.

"Go fish," Johnny replied, and the other man grumbled and pulled another card from the deck.

Well never mind, then. They were playing Go Fish. I suppose poker would have been too stereotypical.

I watched on as they played, getting bored and cold and wet. The seconds ticked by into minutes, then an hour. Part of me thought that Roscoe was pulling my leg sending me here. So far it seemed I was just spying on a group of thugs having game night. Hell, maybe the old wineo was going senile, misheard something. I wouldn't put it beneath him.

It was two hours into my stakeout that it finally started to show promise. The men started making small talk while playing, having stayed silent most of the time, and one of them asked the question I was waiting to hear.

"Ain't boss gonna be coming tonight?"

"Yeah, he's on his way. Got in a bit of a jam, had to clean up a mess. Should be here soon."

Interesting... Maybe this is what Roscoe was talking about.

-----

A stakeout. One that somehow ended with me bound up in some empty room. But who would want to keep me alive? If they had such a problem with me, it would have been much easier to shoot me in the head when they had me beat. There had to be something I was missing... What was I missing?

... Try as I might, no sudden spark of memory ran through my mind. Shit. Must've gotten a pretty sharp crack on the head for my mind to be so scattered like this. It felt like my brain was a hamster on a running wheel, constantly working but ultimately ending up nowhere at all. This was pointless. I'd have time enough for piecing my circumstances together once I got out of here. Needed to be able to at least stand up.

My hands were tied behind my back. Grunting, I used my hands to lift myself up a bit, enough to get them under my thighs. After a moment, I managed it, and from there it was as easy as... Pulling my legs through my bound up hands... Damn, too tired to even come up with a witty metaphor. Need to keep going.

With my hands now in front of me, I flopped over onto my front and pushed myself up. I stood for a moment, struggling to keep my balance with my feet bound so closely together, but after laying my hands against the wall I was steady again. The window I had noticed earlier was just within reach; I couldn't slip through it, it was too small and cold steel bars prevented anyone from slipping in, but I could use it to my advantage in another way.

Clasping my hands together, I raised them up high and slammed them across the window pane. There was a small crack, and a smear of blood from a cut I had just gotten. Another smack, more cracks, bigger smear. Third smack, the window shattered, and my hands were freely bleeding. Slowly, I retrieved a sizeable shard, and slipped it between my hands to saw at the ropes. I pondered on just how stupid this was, sticking a jagged and sharp piece of glass in between my wrists, but my desire to get my Goddamn hands free overpowered any fear I had...

Bingo. I let the ropes fall from my wrists, then flopped onto my behind to undo the ropes on my feet. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth... I sawed through the rope without much of a problem. I stood up and dropped the shard onto the ground, the blood stained glass shattering upon impact with the cold concrete floor. I rubbed at my wrists a bit to relieve the chafing, then reached up to rub the exhaustion out of my eyes...

My hands met flesh where my eyes should be. I glided my hands down to my mouth. Nothing there either. Did they... Take my face? No no, that was too crazy. That sort of stuff couldn't happen. I had to have been wearing a mask of some sort. Something to hide my identity. But from who? That, I suppose, was the question I should be asking.

I walked over to the door leading out of the room, finding it locked. Of course, it couldn't be simple. I placed a finger against the door itself; wooden, rotting from years of water damage, nearly caving to the pressure if you pushed hard enough. I backed up a few paces, then slammed my shoulder into the door and heard a loud crack. I backed up and did it again once, twice, three times, and knocked the door clean off the hinges.

I landed on the cold hard ground with a grunt of pain, rolling off the door and looking up. I was in a long hallway, barely lit by a dim yellow, almost green lightbulb above me. The walls looked like they would have been white once upon a time, but were now yellow and marred with water stains, a sign of how decrepit this place was. I needed to get out of here...

... And I couldn't have thought that at a worse time, as I heard shouting from behind another doorway not far from me. I looked around the hall, trying to find an exit; there were three other doors aside from the one I heard the shouting from and the one I had come out of. One of the doors, probably leading out of here, was at the very end of the hallway past the room full of thugs. If I was in better condition, I might've been able to make it, but no. Right now I needed to hide. Acting quickly, I pushed myself off the ground and scrambled into one of the other rooms, closing the door behind me.

As I caught my breath, I looked around the room, half expecting it to be full of other criminals. But as luck would have it, it seemed to be devoid of other people; from the looks of it I had wound up in a bathroom, stalls and urinals lining the walls. After making sure I was alone, checking all the stalls, I rushed back to the door and pressed an ear against it, listening for any sign that they were approaching.

A door opening...

Footsteps, from the sounds of it about seven men...

Then, shouting.

"Shit, Question got out! Look around, he can't have gone far!"

Question, huh? Must have been an alias of mine. Wonder how I got it? Wait, no. I shook my head, now wasn't the time for this. It didn't matter. All that mattered right now was figuring a way out of here...

To Be Continued...

Absolute Comics - Season Two: The Monster Within

<Snipped quote by Simple Unicycle>

Me waiting for Uni's two weeks to be up like:

@Byrd Man

So I took a night to think about this entire issue and I can't fathom how you could have posted that message in the first place. You knew it was offensive, and yes I'm at fault for not responding earlier but there's no way that post should ever have made it into the OOC thread. So I'm sorry to say, but I'm officially removing you from the game. Thank you for your contributions but, I just can't have a repeat of this incident and I've received several concerns about the content of your posts.

Apologies and best of luck moving forward. If you have any questions, please direct them to me in a PM.

Absolute Comics - Season Two: The Monster Within

Oh God oh fuck it's Season Two, now I actually have to post in the game I signed up for.

World of Light

Level 2 - (16/20) + 2 = (18/20)
Difficulty Level 1
Location: Dead Zone (Redgraccoon City)
Word Count: 923

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Gene stayed silent in the back of the van on the trip through the Dead Zone, munching quietly on an orange. He gave a few small chuckles at Daxter's antics, but for the most part he just didn't feel in a talking mood. Too busy getting psyched up for all the demons and zombies they were about to beat down in the city... And boy howdy, were there demons and zombies to beat down.

Dead ahead were dozens, if not hundreds of zombies flooding the streets of Redgraccoon City. Some were weird... Bug demons, others were just standard undead. A sizeable chunk looked like the other generic zombies, but with different deformities. A few were big and fat, some had strange boils around their face and neck with long, slimy tongues. Gene decided that he did not want to deal with either of those two types of zombies.

Soon enough, the van came to a stop, Nero stepping out to personally deal with the bug demons. Not long after, the three duos went to work, Ratchet & Clank, Jak & Daxter, and Banjo & Kazooie, alongside the monk Donnie, going to town on zombies. There were a few rough patches and close calls, but mostly, everyone was doing okay. The robot, Blazermate if Gene recalled, was staying back to heal anyone while her sentry took down any monsters that got too close.

With a grin, Gene cracked his knuckles and stepped out of the van. "Haha! This is what I'm talking about! Time to go to town on these freaks!" Without another word, he sprinted right into the fray, throwing himself forward a roll and ramming through a group of zombies in the process. Two went down without much else, while the others went flying. Gene whipped out his Roulette Wheel, praying for a Shockwave...

The words "Divine Smash" greeted his eyes, and he charged forward, plowing through a zombie on the way to the others. Eh, close enough. Gene ran right at one of the zombies that was on the ground, and began to stomp on it repeatedly until, eventually, it died. In the meantime, however, the rest of the zombies had recovered and began to shamble towards him. So, Gene did what he always did...

He ran in and threw a right hook. He began to unleash a flurry of blows on the zombies, who were too mindless to think about blocking or dodging, making this a piece of cake. Every once in a while a zombie would lunge for him; the first time, his instincts saved him from getting pounced on, but eventually he got the hang of occasionally dodging in between combos. This was starting to seem too easy...

As if on cue, Gene heard what sounded like someone vomiting, and turned his head in the direction of the sound... Only to meet a spew of bile to the face. The smell was rancid, and the fat bastard that vomited on him looked almost pleased with his undead self. "You... YOU! THIS COAT WASN'T CHEAP, YOU JERKOFF!" He rushed towards the Boomer, delivering a flying kick to its belly...

Which promptly exploded, showering him with even more bile. On the bright side, he gained its Spirit, which looked vastly different from the other zombie spirits he'd been picking up. But that was about where the bright side ended, as now the rest of the zombies turned their attention from approaching the others... To focusing on him. Slowly, but surely, they began to shamble towards him, while a few sprinters came right at him. He defended himself rather easily against them, defeating them quickly, but considering he was stuck in the middle of a sea of undead who, mostly, were all focused dead on him, he wasn't too confident in his chances.

He only had one option... Well, two, but one would look way cooler so he decided to go with that one first.

He whipped out the Roulette again, praying for La Bomba...

The word "Grovel" appeared before him.

'No... No. No! Oh I'm so screwed...'

Against his will, Gene felt himself falling to his knees and bowing down before the undead approaching him. Needless to say, they didn't exactly give a crap about it in their mindless state. As Gene pulled himself back up, he knew there was just one thing he could do to escape...

So, he clamped a hand onto the Deistic Brace, and ripped it off, feeling the power of God flow through him. Arm glowing, Gene let loose, flying into the swarm of undead in a blur of punches and kicks. There were a few swipes and bites that got through to his body, but his skin was unbreakable; nothing could stop him when he unleashed the God Hand... Well, except another God Hand user that is. But Azel didn't seem to be around, so it was all cool!

Gene powered through the sea of zombies, eventually breaking through and winding up back in front of the van again. And just in time too! He could feel the God Hand's power draining, and he forced the Brace back onto his arm despite wanting to just cut loose and whoop ass. Luckily, Blazermate's sentry was doing a fine job on the zombies. "Jeez! Almost got my ass kicked there! Lucky I had this bad boy or I would've been done for!" He patted his bicep, staring out at the dwindling array of zombies. "God I need a shower... That fat boy vomited all over me!"

Note

Approx. 35 zombie Spirits collected by Gene, along with 1 Boomer Spirit.

Heroes Reborn: Prime Earth (Superhero/Urban Fantasy: OPEN)

I need to get a post up with my second character considering she's been accepted for about a month and I still have yet to post with her. Gonna try and get a post up in the coming days.

Absolute Comics - Season Two: The Monster Within

Faceless Freak

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L

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^{_{V I C T O R C H A R L E S S A G E ♦ B L O G G E R / V I G I L A N T E ♦ H U B C I T Y ♦ I N D E P E N D E N T}}

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:

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^{"Superhero? I'm no superhero. I'm just a man in a ratty trenchcoat with a habit of sticking my nose where it doesn't belong."}

Most would say that Vic Sage was a nut. He would say that they were still in their shells.

The man's life from birth to age five are a mystery to him. He was an orphan, his mother dead and father long gone, and as far back as he could remember he lived at Charlton Boys Home. The staff there called him a problem child, frequently locking him away in a closet for the night without dinner. Nothing but a pile of newspapers for a bed and the faint voices from beyond the door to keep him company. And Victor, stubborn little brat he was, decided he'd show them a problem child. He began to pick fights with the boys in the home and around the neighborhood, vandalize local attractions, shoplift, even leave restaurants without paying for his food first. He did all he could to make their lives a living hell. Ashamed as he is to admit it now, he enjoyed it.

It wasn't until he was removed from the boys home at 18 and rendered homeless that he realized that maybe, just maybe, he shouldn't have been so spiteful. It was only through a stroke of luck that he managed to meet Aristotle "Tot" Rodor, a local inventor and man of the sciences, who took pity on the boy and brought him under his wing. Tot was an old man, well past his prime, and all he asked was Victor get a job and he'd be allowed to keep living with him.

A few months into Vic's stay with Tot, him having found a job flipping burgers at the local Big Belly Burger, something happened that would change Vic's life forever. He came home from work to find Tot panicking, and after calming the old man down listened to his story. In his younger days, Tot worked in a lab alongside a man named Arby Twain. Together, they led a project and made a substance known as pseudoderm, which was a skinlike bandage. The only problem was that the only means of applying it was through a bonding gas, which was toxic when exposed to open wounds, thus defeating the point of the bandage. Tot and Twain agreed to shut the project down and parted ways... Until Tot discovered that recently Twain had been selling the substance despite knowing of its toxicity.

The police wouldn't listen to Rodor and no one would have stopped Twain otherwise, so Vic had an idea: he could use a mask made of pseudoderm to hide his face and take down Twain's operation. With nowhere else to turn, Tot agreed, whipping up a mask for Victor and sending him on his way to foil Twain's plans. Needless to say, Vic succeeded, leaving Twain wrapped up in pseudoderm outside the local police station alongside an audio recording of his confession.

For a few months, Vic didn't pick up the mask again, but eventually he used it once more to take down a few street toughs pushing drugs onto the neighborhood teens. Then he did again a month later, to beat up some creep that was stalking a girl he knew from work. Then a week later he did it again to foil a mugging, and soon he was doing it nightly. It was entirely an accident that Vic became a vigilante, and the news dubbed him "the Question", because the biggest question was just who the hell he was supposed to be.

He's been going out like this for years now, having officially adopted the name of the Question. He's since moved on from Tot's house into an apartment of his own, still visiting his old friend when he has the time. In his downtime, he began to run a blog under his vigilante alias, and uses his ad revenue from it to keep himself housed and fed. On it, he does everything from review the latest games to leaking corporate emails to sharing his wacky conspiracies with the world.

Against all odds, despite his rocky upbringing and the constant threat of death hanging over him every time he leaves for the night, Vic is content with his place in the world.

C H A R A C T E R M O T I V A T I O N S & G O A L S:

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Y'all know me. I love me some faceless boi. That should be enough.

In all seriousness, I love the Question and find him to be a very intriguing character. I've done enough versions of the character in various roleplays that I've kind of gotten sick of using the exact same rendition each and every time, and while writing this sheet I decided to switch some things up. Nothing too radical, but different enough from what I'm used to writing that it will provide me with an interesting challenge.

Overall, in terms of the character's story, I'm looking to tell some standard detective stories with the occasional conventional baddie Vic just has to punch. Something like a case/baddie of the week type format. There won't be any straight up long-term story arcs, as I'm just trying to have fun without worrying about telling an epic tale. Besides, I like to think that I have a solid enough characterization for Vic that I'm confident I can carry my posts through that alone.

C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:

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None that I can think of right now. Might expand later with a supporting character list.

S A M P L E P O S T:

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Unknown Location
Hub City, Illinois

I woke up unable to recall my own name.

The room was cold and damp, with no decorations to speak of. A small window behind me, a ray of pale moonlight seeping through the glass and onto the brick walls. I tried to push myself up but found my hands and feet bound by rope, unable to move too much without chafing my wrists and ankles. How long had I been here, passed out and tied up?

I needed to think... What can I remember?

---

It was raining, the sky above me the color of a television tuned to a dead channel. An informant of mine, an old drunkard named Roscoe, had provided me with a tip. He said that there were shady things going on at this address, something a man of my talents would be able to bust no problem. The address led to an old shack, tucked cozily into a back alley in The Wedge. I waited outside, pressed up against the wall of the shack and peeking in through the window at a group of men playing poker.

"Yo Johnny, you got any sixes?" one man asked, looking intently at another man, Johnny.

"Go fish," Johnny replied, and the other man grumbled and pulled another card from the deck.

Well never mind, then. They were playing Go Fish. I suppose poker would have been too stereotypical.

I watched on as they played, getting bored and cold and wet. The seconds ticked by into minutes, then an hour. Part of me thought that Roscoe was pulling my leg sending me here. So far it seemed I was just spying on a group of thugs having game night. Hell, maybe the old wineo was going senile, misheard something. I wouldn't put it beneath him.

It was two hours into my stakeout that it finally started to show promise. The men started making small talk while playing, having stayed silent most of the time, and one of them asked the question I was waiting to hear.

"Ain't boss gonna be coming tonight?"

"Yeah, he's on his way. Got in a bit of a jam, had to clean up a mess. Should be here soon."

Interesting... Maybe this is what Roscoe was talking about.

TO BE CONTINUED

P O S T C A T L O G:

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Act 1: A Proper Introduction

Issue #1: Who Are You?
Issue #2: Saturday Night's Alright For Fighting

World of Light

Level 2 - (15/20) + 1 = (16/20)
Difficulty Level 1
Location: Paved Wilderness
Word Count: 241
Interactions: @Lugubrious

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Gene listened on as the fellow white haired guy prattled on about how dangerous and spooky the Qliphoth place was. Demons and zombies, huh? He'd beaten the hell out of a metric fuck ton of demons on his journey, not to mention he capped it off by killing their king. This guy didn't know who he was talking to about demons and danger.

With a cocky grin, Gene cracked his knuckles and rolled his head around to pop his neck. "Leave it to the professionals, huh? Well, I'll have you know that in my world, I'm sort of an expert of punching, kicking, and generally beating the hell out of demons. I even beat the Demon King Angra!" A pause, followed by his cocky grin turning to a more sheepish one. "... Though that was with a huge power boost I don't have anymore."

He shook his head. What was he saying? He had the moves to beat up demons! And zombies? Pffft, they weren't any problem! "Besides, our group is chock full of experts at kicking ass! They should call us Team Kickass we're so good at it! You guys could tag along and we can head straight for that Qliphoth and beat up some demons!" Talking wasn't his strong suit, but he hoped what he said could maybe, just maybe, convince at least the white haired punk to come along. Gene felt that they were kindred spirits of some sort.

Absolute Comics - Season Two: The Monster Within

>tfw I wake up to Gowi, Maxx, Dblade, and Star Lord leaving the game