Tuxedo Fox

Rotten Masks

@Amelian Draco@The Kraken@Mr Rage

Love the characters everybody, go on ahead and throw them up in the char section.

Rotten Masks

Bushwhacker huffed and puffed as he ran his way across the trash strewn parking lot just outside the giant casino he had been calling home for the last three weeks-Kevlar might have been the best for stopping bullets and zombie bites but it sure as hell made you work up a sweat. At least that's what a normal person would have thought, Bushwhacker though honestly just felt naked when not clad head to toe in his custom made black kevlar outfit-hell, he even still wore the full faced leather mask that was practically a heatstroke waiting to happen.

In his mind though he felt great-the cool air coming in just off the river offering his tightly armored body a slight moment of relief. For the moment being his mind was focused souley on the task at hand.

HWACK

The sickening sound of steel cutting and crushing through bone rang out as he effortlessly dispatched a shambling corpse with what appeared to be a jet black medium sized (and abnormally thick) machete, the undead creature having gotten a little to close for comfort. He just had to finish setting his last charge and then he'd be set to run back inside and enjoy the show. Finally reaching the far end of the building he double checked to make sure the coast was clear before bending over and fiddling with a large coffee can sized tube. After a few minutes of playing with the odd object he took a step back to admire his handiwork-seemingly satisfied he ran off in the direction he had come, actually laughing along the way. The last months worth of work was about to pay off.

Mainstream media (what was left of it) would tell you that this absurd strain of Zombie Virus had originated a mere three weeks ago-but that was an utter fucking lie in the Bushwhackers mind. You see not only did this world renowned self made hero monitor the happenings in his own city like a hawk but likewise he made sure to keep tabs of the goings on around the world-after all as his father always said, shit rolls down hill. It was because of this maddening commitment to justice and safety that he had not only picked up the first reports of deranged group atackings occurring in both Southern Iraq and Israel but he had actually been able to follow the string of ensuing outbreak-the myriad of interconnected news stories about “enraged or insane mobs of people” having been somewhat easy to follow once he knew what he was looking for. On day two he knew this growing spread of violence was highly unlikely to be contained (even so he sent word to all the higher ups he knew government and military wise; both in the states and worldwide.)

Of all the contingency plans Bushwhacker had created (and he had created QUITE a few) none of them had ever factored in the possibility of undead zombie virus. The fact of which made him kick himself in the head most nights-after all if Blue Tessla could shoot lightning from his fucking hand why would it be so far fetched that a strain of virus might mutate enough to control corpses? It was just poor planning on his part.

Upon the realization and firm belief that he was witnessing the start of an outbreak the likes of which humanity had never seen Bushwhacker quickly went about using his vast resources to create a place that he believed would better whether the coming storm-he was quick to accept the fact that he would not be able to save everyone but like Noah in the old testament maybe he could save just enough. Maybe.

He definitely couldn't do it without the help of other supers though-of that he had become painfully aware as he poured his heart and soul into the various mathematical algorithms and theorems he had come up with in the ensuing day-of which all the results pointed to the fact that without help from certain “X factors” the community of survivors he envisioned was unsustainable. It was because of that reason he had found himself out front of his Casino and hotel resort at 10:30PM during an all to real zombie apocalypse-but if he didn't finish what he had come out here to do there absolutely 0 chance of hope for the city-maybe even humanity.

Luckily Bushwhacker, who for all intents and purposes was in actuality a completely and utterly normal human, was able to reach his desired destination without anymore trouble. Reaching the opposite end of the building from where he had left his coffee can like explosive charge the Bushwhacker quickly clambered over a guard rail onto what resembled an old dirty window cleaning unit; the ancient invention resembling a railed in catwalk with four large safety cables connected to the roof that allowed him to enter and exit his safe haven without opening any ground doors-a very useful tool when some of those undead bastards could run at you faster then an Olympic runner.

Quickly getting back to his feet The Bushwhacker wasted no time in operating the little panel that stood up to about his chest-the simple buttons and levers allowing the window cleaning unit to move not only up and down but side to side as well. Recently he had been coming and going from what he had designated as the “exit room” which was in actuality an old hotel room on the third floor-Reversing the way the door opened and locked followed by quickly smashing the window out was all it took to turn it into a rather effective entry and exit way. From what he had seen so far even the fastest of zombies, the type that contained a minuscule amount of power when compared to the real Blur, could at best only take a running jump that would more often then not wind up with them simply bashing their brains in against the second story riot glass windows.

“vaaaa-riiiiiiiiiiii” The sturdy catwalk unit squealed to life as Bushwhacker wheeled himself upwards on the lowest control setting-the faster he went the louder the lift sounded which meant more zombies coming to investigate the noise; because of that reasoning he never went above “2” on the speed dial. Instead of getting off at the broken window that lead to the third floor of his hotel Bushwhacker continued to work the controls upwards-he was hell bent on getting a good seat for the show.

After a few minutes of patiently climbing skyward in his mechanical lift Bushwhacker reached the roof of the building as the lift he rode in snugly found its way into the company approved safety harness, locking into place with a loud metallic “Ca-LUNK”

Of all the places in the massive Casino he called home this one by far had the best view of the City: from the top of the sprawling twenty story building he could make out the entirety of the vast manufacturing district to the North and the oddly creepy empty theme park to the East-just down the river he could make out what had been a rival casino, the massive building resembling an old world steamboat. All things considered it was a fairly good spot to take shelter, not only were they a good stones throw away from any major suburban area but the surrounding manufacturing district provided ample supplies for both survival and maintenance.

Laying down on the cold metallic surface (which he totally couldn't feel beneath his costume) the Bushwhacker stared up into the sky; momentarily admiring the view of an unobstructed starlight sky. It was the type of beautiful sight that made one pause and recollect; Bushwhacker often coming to the conclusion that Earth was probably better off full of zombies then humans. Tearing himself away from this dangerous train of thought he pulled what looked like a garage door opener out from the confines of the jet black utility belt strapped to his waste.

With the flick of a button the quite night erupted in a somewhat audible 'put put put put' sound as all the charges Bushwhacker had meticulously laid for the past hour set off simultaneously-the result of his homemade detonator.

“ALIVE INSIDE! SAFE COMMUNITY!” The words filled the air in a sparkling display of red and blue explosions, as the words started to fade another volley of makeshift fireworks filled the air exploding into a giant green emerald arrow that pointed downwards towards the casino. Now all he had to do was wait and hopefully a handful of other enhanced individuals would see his message and make their way here; after all there wasn't much left of the city, he figured whoever did see his little message would inevitably make their way here-super or otherwise.

As he watched the green emerald arrow fade away into the night sky he felt no joy or success-instead all he could think about were the events that had unfolded in the past month, the maddening memories flashing through his mind like an old back and white film:

Like most civilians around the globe the people of Kansas City had been extremely slow to react to the vast reports of both infectious outbreaks and mass rioting spreading across Europe and Africa-like many they had believed themselves to be safe within the isolated bubble that was America. Usually this would have been the case; only it turned out this new newfangled strain of virus seemed to be crossing mountains and oceans with little to no effort-a problem only compounded by the interwoven airlines worldwide. It was by sheer paranoia and the way Bushwhacker monitored world news that he had gotten whiff of what was happening in time to do anything about it-and even his normally well crafted plans crumbled within weeks.

But now he had a new plan, and this time things would be different. He'd make sure of it.

Pawns of the Inquisition

I swear my dumbass can go like half a day without realising this threads been posted on.

Rotten Masks

Tod Cradford

Name: Tod Crawdford

Hero/Villain Name: MinuteMan

Age: 28

Gender: Male

Appearance: Tod has what many would call a somewhat bland face-his features almost indistinguishable when among a crowd of any amount. When staring at him eye to eye (no masks involved) many would first notice his rough and seemingly constant five O clock shadow quickly followed by his baggy pair of hazel eyes. Like most people in this new world he has the somewhat gaunt appearance of a man who hasn't had a full stomach in quite some while. Much like his facial hair he keeps his head buzzed short to a fine stubble that somehow compliments his haggard appearance. Standing at just under six feet tall he often carries himself with his shoulders and back hunched slightly forward; as if trying to hide something from his fellow survivors.

Costume Description: Pre Outbreak Tod sported a rather foolish and cheap looking costume that consisted of mostly whatever inexpensive matching black shirt and jeans he could find-after all he was working on a public teachers budget and any costume material was prone to ripping. Adding to the horribly gaudy outfit was a dark red cape that came straight out of a comic book, the large flowing piece of cloth leading directly to his matching leather facemask. The mask, which left his whole mouth and chin exposed, consisted of the same darker red that was his cape-the only difference being that his facemask actually consisted of a fine dyed leather.

It took a literal apocalypse to finally kill off his outdated look; these days Tod is often seen wearing simple blue jeans and a T shirt along with a crusty looking brown leather jacket. He does however continue to wear the leather facemask of his old costume, the well worn face piece doing a good job of hiding his (now well known) identity.

He also proudly wears a homemade pin on the collar of his leather jacket that contains the image of an hourglass.

Powers/Unique Traits: Tod possesses an odd albeit mighty power. All he has to do is close his eyes and focus; the results being an immediate surge of an unknown power shooting through his body that grants him various abilities such as enhanced strength, speed, strengthened skin, and the ability to leap ridiculously long and high lengths. The catch, however, is that once his power is activated he only has a mere 3 minutes until he returns to the state of a normal man-unable to reactivate his 3 minutes of power for yet another three minutes.

Personality: Pre outbreak- Prior to the spread of the virus Tod was a rather laid back and somewhat outgoing individual. Always the type to lend a helping hand and the first to say a genuine compliment he was the kind of person most people would have labeled a “nice guy.” He was also a rather smart guy that new how to handle a joke despite his inability to be truly funny.

Post Outbreak- Within the last month Tods personality has done a complete 360; these days he is extremely withdrawn and quiet-even when if the company of others. He has also become rather short tempered, especially when it comes to people trying to get him to open up or asking for help.

Mental State: Currently Tod has been on a steady mental decline since the start of the viral outbreak. He has been self medicating with alcohol and pills to keep his massive depression hidden from the rest of the community. He has also not been sleeping.

Bio: Pre Outbreak: Born and raised in one of the smaller suburbs of Kansas City Tod was raised like most middle class kids from his generation; that is to say more often then not the TV was his babysitter. From a young age not only did he love the ideas of super powered individuals long before they were a reality but he would also watch and read literally anything on the subject. Like so many of the heroes he read about in comics Tod soon came to genuinely believe many of the things his brightly clad role models so cheesily represented in the short 16 page books: Ideals such as honesty, integrity, loyalty, bravery-and above all else defending the weak.

In his teenage years these traits had slightly begun to get beat out of him-quite literally on some days, bullys often targeting him for his peculiarly good behavior. Because of this he spent most of his highschool years either by himself reading or hanging out with a handful of individuals that stuck more together out of necessity then friendship. College however had been a completely different story; Tod quickly finding his groove in not only the social scene but academically as well. Turns out school was a lot easier when the kids that didn't want to be there were in fact not there. Best of all about college life though was that his genuinely friendly personality seemed to be widely both accepted and popular; before he knew it he had more genuine friends the he ever had in high school.

It was his second year into his four year degree when his powers first manifested during a time when heroes, villains, and super powers in general were still a laughable thought and not a serious concern to the public. With this reality shattering realization Tod was one of the first heroes to hit the streets of Kansas City; garnering a little media attention in his early days he was quickly overshadowed by other men and women with much flashier and awe inspiring powers that began to emerge shortly after his own heroic debut.

This didn't matter to Tod though-the thrill of cleaning up the streets and stopping any sort of crime he encountered while wearing a costume...well, it was a childhood dream come true that he couldn't resist: it didn't matter if anyone knew who the hell he was or not. He just wanted to help people afterall.

For the next two years it took him to acquire his teaching degree he would study and attend class by day and then spend his nights moonlighting as a hero under the name Minuteman. Most often he dealt with petty criminals and robbers-if he was (un)lucky he would sometimes run into a powered individual commiting crimes, often times these encounters resulted in fights and chases that tested all of his skill.

After graduating he quickly got a job as a sixth grade history teacher-both his vast academic record and teacher references allowing him to score a rather decent position at a public school no to far off from where he actually grew up. He took his teaching assignment just as seriously as he did his “Night Job” while at the same time bringing his own unique and friendly touch to both careers. Twice a month he also donned his complete costume and attended Childrens Mercy hospital-although most kids couldn't look at him and name who he was it was still rather apparent he was a hero, the realization of which was enough to cause most of them to break out a smile and some giddy laughter despite how bad they felt. Bringing light to the bleak place was one of his favorite pastimes.

Post Outbreak: At the start of the outbreak Tod honestly thought there were mass riots going on-a collective mass populace seemingly fed up with how things were. When he actually saw his first zombie though he knew this completely wasn't the case-especially when he actually had to crush the damn things skull to kill it. It was literally like something out of a movie.

Horrified at the truth of what was happening countrywide Tod set out on the streets determined to help anyway he could-donned completely in his Minuteman outfit he made a bee line for Childrens Mercy on foot (to many stalled and abandonded cars filled the road.) He figured the hospitals would need help the most, no doubt taking patients among the growing madness. He arrived to a scene that was only escalating in chaos but nonetheless threw himself into the fray-setting up a blockade outside the building he did his best to fend off the seemingly endless sea of dead that was being drawn towards the constant gunfire the cops were producing.

Eventually though the hastily made blockade was overran and the ensuing events still haunt Tod to this day; the sound of children crying prone to sending him into mental breaks.

Avery Jackson

Name:Avery Jackson

Hero/Villain Name: The Bushwhacker

Age: 47

Gender: Male

Appearance: No one knows what Avery looks like under his mask and armor-no one within the community has seen him without his mask and armor on.

Costume Description: The bushwhacker was famous for patrolling the meanest streets of Kansas City with nothing but a loaded ammo belt and a fearless attitude, often stalking the night it wasn't long before criminals actually feared the man with a no mercy policy. His original costume consisted of a full jet black tactical vest along with full body Kevlar armor-level IV plating-all the way up to his neck. Outside the armor is a fastened shut dark black duster that drapes down to his combat boot encased feat. A jet black cape hangs from his shoulders, the exact same midnight black as his armor mask and duster. His most famous feature is the skin tight leather gimp mask that hides every feature of his face-two large holes cut to the exact size of his dark brown eyes. These days he has ditched the cape and duster, giving his expensive armor clad body a somewhat alien appearance.

Not known for mercy The Bushwhacker always carries two coal black .45 semi automatic handguns, a sawn off 12 gauge shotgun, and a grenade belt. Not to mention the dark black utility belt that hugs his waist, the compartments full of various tools.

Powers/Unique Traits: Although not super in any regard Avery is extremely smart, physically fit, and an expert in a wide variety of militaristic and criminal subjects. He is also a crack shot and trained in many forms of hand to hand combat. He is also extremely rich.

Personality: There is honestly not a huge difference between pre and post outbreak Avery personality wise. Always rather private and to the point in regards to other people he has become increasingly paranoid since the start of the Outbreak, most likely the result of his original group of survivors being decimated under his watch.

Mental State: Extremely paranoid and untrusting.

Bio: WIP

Fallout: Orleans

@Ulstermann

SECONDARY QUEST- A Light in the Darkness

Boss tuned out Carsons handiwork as raiders dropped around him like flys-he was too caught up in trying to wrestle himself into a good position to put an end to the leaders right hand man. Fortunately Carsons violent interruption in the form of a rifle butt to the head was all the distraction Boss needed; taking advantage of his dazed and confused attacker he rolled himself fully on top while pinning the raiders arms to the ground with both of his knees.

Without giving the man a moment to recover Boss let what was left of his machete fall to the ground while simultaneously grabbing at his soon to be victims face with both hands. Slightly more aware now the raider struggled to twist away from Boss, however this was a futile attempt as Boss sunk both thumbs into the mans eyes-a squishy sounding snap filling the air as Boss continued to press down onto the now screaming and writhing figure; his thumbs completely disappearing in moments. With a quick jerking twist Boss ended the poor bastards suffering.

Dragging himself back to his feet he quickly bent down and retrieved his fallen pistol and blade before turning his attention to Carson. Covered in a decent layer of blood, grime, and dirt Boss looked like something that might have walked out of the Bog-it was a good thing he was wearing goggles. Giving the butchered body on the ground a few more heavy kicks Boss finally spoke up while holstering both his pistol and machete.

“Lets keep moving.” Was all he barked before spitting a glob of something black out, acting as if gouging a mans eyes out was just a common day occurance. Not waiting for Carson he set off, unslinging his shotgun from his back as he continued the trek towards the lighthouse.

As the pair made their way towards their destination Boss could feel the metallic floor that was the Southern Star shift and groan beneath his feat. Turning to look at Carson he said. “Watch your step, don't think this floor is exactly-” He was cut off as the sound of metal grinding and collapsing filled the air, the floor beneath him literally giving way as he was sent to the floor below in an almost comical perfect circle.

Dazed and laying among a pile of scrap Boss looked up to see Carson peering down from above. “Im fine!” Boss hollered while trying to catch the wind that had been knocked out of him. It was a miracle he hadn't been crushed or skewered in the fall.

Rotten Masks

@Tuxedo Foxhmm now, do I want a villain, or antihero

@Amelian Draco

As of right now I believe we have two confirmed Heroes and a reformed(?) Villain. So its up to you!

Rotten Masks

@Tuxedo Foxlong day I'll try and get my cs up by tonight

@Amelian Draco

Its all good man-still workin on my own character as well.

Fallout: Orleans

@Ulstermann

Man I don't think Ill be able to finish my post tonight but we should be able to wrap the quest up tommorow if you'll be on like normal-I should be.

Rotten Masks

@Amelian Draco@Mr Rage@The Kraken@Kidd

Intro WIP, Plan on addin a paragraph or two right before the end of the last paragraph talking about Kansas City

Bushwhacker huffed and puffed as he ran his way across the trash strewn parking lot just outside the giant casino he had been calling home for the last three weeks-Kevlar might have been the best for stopping bullets and zombie bites but it sure as hell made you work up a sweat. At least that's what a normal person would have thought, Bushwhacker though honestly just felt naked when not clad head to toe in his custom made black kevlar outfit-hell, he even still wore the full faced leather mask that was practically a heatstroke waiting to happen.

In his mind though he felt great-the cool air coming in just off the river offering his leather and kevlar clad body a slight moment of relief. For the moment being his mind was focused souley on the task at hand.

HWACK

The sickening sound of steel cutting and crushing through bone rang out as he effortlessly dispatched a shambling corpse with what appeared to be a jet black medium sized (and abnormally thick) machete, the undead creature having gotten a little to close for comfort. He just had to finish setting his last charge and then he'd be set to run back inside and enjoy the show. Finally reaching the far end of the building he double checked to make sure the coast was clear before bending over and fiddling with a large coffee can sized tube. After a few minutes of playing with the odd object he took a step back to admire his handiwork-seemingly satisfied he ran off in the direction he had come, actually laughing along the way. The last months worth of work was about to pay off.

Mainstream media (what was left of it) would tell you that this absurd strain of Zombie Virus had originated a mere three weeks ago-but that was an utter fucking lie in the Bushwhackers mind. You see not only did this world renowned self made hero monitor the happenings in his own city like a hawk but likewise he made sure to keep tabs of the goings on around the world-after all as his father always said, shit rolls down hill. It was because of this maddening commitment to justice and safety that he had not only picked up the first reports of deranged group atackings occurring in both Southern Iraq and Israel but he had actually been able to follow the string of ensuing outbreak-the myriad of interconnected news stories about “enraged or insane mobs of people” having been somewhat easy to follow once he knew what he was looking for. On day two he knew this growing spread of violence was highly unlikely to be contained (even so he sent word to all the higher ups he knew government and military wise; both in the states and worldwide.)

Now of all the contingency plans Bushwhacker had created (and he had created QUITE a few) none of them had ever factored in the possibility of undead zombie virus.' The fact of which made him kick himself in the head most nights-after all if Blue Tessla could shoot lightning from his fucking hand why would it be so far fetched that a strain of virus might mutate enough to control corpses? It was just poor planning on his part.

Upon the realization and firm belief that he was witnessing the start of an outbreak the likes of which humanity had never seen Bushwhacker quickly went about using his vast resources to create a place that he believed would better whether the coming storm-he was quick to accept the fact that he would not be able to save everyone but like Noah in the old testament maybe he could save just enough. Maybe.

He definitely couldn't do it without the help of other supers though-of that he had become painfully aware as he poured his heart and soul into the various mathematical algorithms and theorems he had come up with in the ensuing day-of which all the results pointed to the fact that without help from certain “X factors” the community of survivors he envisioned was unsustainable. It was because of that reason he had found himself out front of his Casino and hotel resort at 10:30PM during an all to real zombie apocalypse-but if he didn't finish what he had come out here to do there absolutely 0 chance of hope for the city-maybe even humanity.

Luckily Bushwhacker, who for all intents and purposes was in actuality a completely and utterly normal human, was able to reach his desired destination without anymore trouble. Reaching the opposite end of the building from where he had left his coffee can like explosive charge the Bushwhacker quickly clambered over a guard rail onto what resembled an old dirty window cleaning unit; the ancient invention resembling a railed in catwalk with four large safety cables connected to the roof that allowed him to enter and exit his safe haven without opening any ground doors-a very useful tool when some of those undead bastards could run at you faster then an Olympic runner.

Quickly getting back to his feet The Bushwhacker wasted no time in operating the little panel that stood up to about his chest-the simple buttons and levers allowing the window cleaning unit to move not only up and down but side to side as well. Recently he had been coming and going from what he had designated as the “exit room” which was in actuality an old hotel room on the third floor-Reversing the way the door opened and locked followed by quickly smashing the window out was all it took to turn it into a rather effective entry and exit way. From what he had seen so far even the fastest of zombies, the type that contained a minuscule amount of power when compared to the real Blur, could at best only take a running jump that would more often then not wind up with them simply bashing their brains in against the second story riot glass windows.

“vaaaa-riiiiiiiiiiii” The sturdy catwalk unit squealed to life as Bushwhacker wheeled himself upwards on the lowest control setting-the faster he went the louder the lift sounded which meant more zombies coming to investigate the noise; because of that reasoning he never went above “2” on the speed dial. Instead of getting off at the broken window that lead to the third floor of his hotel Bushwhacker continued to work the controls upwards-he was hell bent on getting a good seat for the show.

After a few minutes of patiently climbing skyward in his mechanical lift Bushwhacker reached the roof of the building as the lift he rode in snugly found its way into the company approved safety harness, locking into place with a loud metallic “Ca-LUNK”

Of all the places in the massive Casino he called home this one by far had the best view of the City: from the top of the sprawling twenty story building he could make out the entirety of the vast manufacturing district to the North and the oddly creepy empty theme park to the East-just down the river he could make out what had been a rival casino, the massive building resembling an old world steamboat. All things considered it was a fairly good spot to take shelter, not only were they a good stones throw away from any major suburban area but the surrounding manufacturing district provided ample supplies for both survival and maintenance.

Laying down on the cold metallic surface (which he totally couldn't feel beneath his costume) the Bushwhacker stared up into the sky; momentarily admiring the view of an unobstructed starlight sky. It was the type of beautiful sight that made one pause an recollect; Bushwhacker often coming to the conclusion that Earth was probably better off full of zombies then humans. Tearing himself away from this dangerous train of thought he pulled what looked like a garage door opener out from the confines of the jet black utility belt strapped to his waste.

With the flick of a button the quite night erupted in a somewhat audible 'put put put put' sound as all the charges Bushwhacker had meticulously laid for the past hour set off simultaneously-the result of his homemade detonator.

“ALIVE INSIDE! SAFE COMMUNITY!” The words filled the air in a sparkling display of red and blue explosions, as the words started to fade another volley of makeshift fireworks filled the air exploding into a giant green emerald arrow that pointed downwards towards the casino. Now all he had to do was wait and hopefully a handful of other enhanced individuals would see his message and make their way here; after all there wasn't much left of the city, he figured whoever did see his little message would inevitably make their way here-super or otherwise.

Rotten Masks

@KiddSkype still working for you guys? I got kicked off and cant seem to get back on.