Radio City 3.0: Free-form Superhero RP:
Darktail. The princess of thievery and seduction, was currently focusing on the former. Radio City's museum was pretty well known for attracting some pretty big exhibits. Darktail was interesting in this gem. A big shiny purple jewel that would fetch way more than a pretty penny. The mistress of crime traced her claw around the glass, carefully pulling out the circle, and crawling her way into the dark museum, searching out her target. She would like to do this without the knight's interference. But that was unlikely.
Down in Old Town, an uncomfortably thick fog rolled in. An ill wind followed, punctuated occasionally by the shrieks of the damned as the Ghetto Ghost rushed through.
In a significantly less emotional and serious part of town, Jeff Sanderssen, Professor Holocaust, was walking down the street in full supervillain regalia. That is, an ill-fitting trenchcoat covered in fire and covering a bulletproof vest, a pair of cheap mirrored shades, also orange and white, and a pair of massive, yellow, tubular weapons, mounted loosely on his arms. In left hand, a walkman blasting music. In his right, a chocolate milkshake bought from the DQ down the street. Tonight was an Antipatrol Night, where he simply walked the quiet streets in search of a superhero to kill, or another villain's operation to join. "YOU CAN DANCE IF YOU WANT TO! YOU CAN LEAVE YOUR FRIENDS BEHIND!" he declared, then took a hearty SSHHUUURRRKRKKKKKHHHHHH of his milkshake and set off down the street.
And in a third part of town, Rick Johansen put on some smooth jazz, sat back in his apartment, turned on the TV, and waited for the news to talk about him. Not him specifically, more the six clones placed strategically around the city. Three by the docks, waiting for work of some kind to some douche whose name he forgot; the other three were located outside various locations of interest: a car just asking to be stolen, a backalley where people were known to get lost, and a jewelry store with an invitingly smashable window. All of these clones wore masks and had taken knives to their faces to mutilate themselves to prevent a trace on their identity, knives that they now possessed in sheathes on their belts. They felt no resentment for having to harm themselves in this way, of course; it was like ironing off fingerprints on a disposable hand, really. The real, recognizable Rick was at home. The perfect alibi. Supposedly.
edited 5th Aug '12 6:04:26 PM by Taco
On another part of the city, another young citizen of Radio City was also out of bed and wearing a hoodie... though this girl had her hood put on as a meager way to hide her identity. She was standing on a small abandoned lot that was once a parking lot but now mostly served as a dumpster. The reason for her to do so? Well, that would be the dark tiger like claws which she now used instead of hands. For a few weeks now Rosette Bryar had been practicing her dark powers in this dumpster after getting a bit too carried away and tearing to shreds the mattress in her room once feline instincts kicked in. She needed more practice... more control over this strange power which dwelt within her.
"Now this is a beautiful night, wouldn't you say, Bruno?" says the melodious childish voice of Dorothy Mc Allister as she sat in garden of her mansion drinking tea under the light of the moon. "Indeed, my lady. Quiet and peaceful" replied the deep voice of Bruno Carter, butler, right hand man, bodyguard and enforcer of the young looking vampiric lady which sat at his side as he poured her some more tea. He was a tall imposing man, a little over two meters tall, with broad shoulders and some noticeable musculature that not even his nicely tailored suit could hide. He was completely bald, on his late thirties with a nice dark chocolate tone to his skin. "Now, I don't know if peaceful, dear Bruno. This is Radio City after all... though I do feel the winds of change blowing around us... the same wind carrying the scent of those wonderful roses you planted right to me. Did I mention they are lovely? You truly did a good job with those" says Dorothy as she looks at Bruno with a gentle smile on her lips... though her bright red eyes looked further forward into the distance... Bruno knew that look... the same one that his employer had on her face when they decided to suddenly move to Radio City "Will you go out for some sport, my lady?" "Oh no, Bruno... it's far too early for that. Not tonight... This night I'm far too appeased. The warmth of your chamomile tea... the soft scent of the roses... this beautiful moon... You should know I'm a sleepy beast. It takes more to make me move... but still... It will be soon" said the girl in the light black dress, her naked pale feet kicking softly at the rhythm of a tune only she heard, her dark black hair framing sleepy scarlet eyes full of mischief "Soon..." Bruno nodded his head, knowing full well the implications on her words. He did a checklist in his mind of the things he would need to prepare. And prepare he would need to if he and his client were to survive the later's fanciful moods.
Lycoris was not a name that was entirely unknown to the police department of Radio City. She had played around the city, killing at first and lately contenting herself with merely doing small time robberies... on all she would leave her signature, one Lycoris flower place where her stolen item was or right over the corpse of the victim. She was a gun for hire and a thief by pleasure. However, tonight her job was one not requiring much of her theatrics. She was scaling a tall skyscraper... her client required her to steal some valuable data from a rival's personal computer. Normally she would infiltrate the staff of such a rival as a house keeper... however this one target was apparently paranoid of such tactics and mistrustful of just about everyone so they cleaned after themselves. Thus she climbed, high and higher to slip into their home and take the data directly.
The operation had been going smoothly; the barge was securely stopped at the docks of Radio City, transporting the inventory of some tech company or another. Forklifts and felons worked in tandem to carry the goods into a nearby warehouse, where the Thespian waited for inspection. Normally the crime lord would not lower himself by making a personal appearance in such a simple procedure, but tonight was special. After all, it was his first performance. The man had to make sure everything was going to be in order. And everything seemed to be. But he knew better than that. There was a reason he was infamous as the man who knew everything; reading the script unseen by others, the Thespian had already spotted a potential problem to an otherwise easy job. Turning to the lookout standing next to him, he informed him of the soon-to-be issue. "Three of these men aren't ours. I want you to go down there and ask anyone wearing a mask to remove it. If their faces are disfigured, shoot them. If they refuse, shoot them. If they resist, shoot them. And if someone isn't wearing a mask but is still disfigured... shoot them." The thug stared at the perpetual laugh in utter confusion, before starting to laugh himself. With a sadistic grin, the mobster tightened the grip on his assault rifle. "Whatever you say, boss." Watching the gunman go down the ladder of the catwalks, the Thespian mused. Perhaps I should find a place where I'm not an open target. After all, I don't need my eyes to see everything.
edited 5th Aug '12 8:30:55 PM by Starbound2
The three Dockside Ricks continued carrying boxes, masks on all of them. And then one of them was no longer wearing a head, having been discovered to be disfigured under the mask. Every other Rick simultaneously cursed and winced, and the two remaining dockside Ricks dropped their boxes next to eachother. It may now be useful to name these Ricks. The Rick at home is Rick Alpha. The Ricks left at the docks are Ricks Alpha-2 and Alpha-3, Alpha-1 no longer in possession of a head. Alpha-4 stood in the backalley, Alpha-5 by the jewelry shop, and Alpha-6 by the car. Anyway, Alpha-2 tore off his mask in tandem with Alpha-3, then, once again in tandem, started pulling the box open. They were totally silent as this happened, because a hivemind needn't speak. However, Alpha-2 stood and declared, "Hello! I assume that you guys know we're Multiplayer, and we're here to kick ass!" Alpha-3 pried open the box and, without looking, yanked out a gun. A gun full of, like, Technology. Fancy and stuff. Covered in chrome and blue lights. He aimed it at the goons surrounding them. "Now." Alpha-3 said, "We won't be having any problems, will we? We're gonna take this, you write it off as a loss, and The Thespian says Multiplayer's better than him. I think." The gods of smug assholery smiled that day, as the aura of smug permeated the air in a thick smog. Of smug. Anyway, Multiplayer said and did everything smugly.
Far away from this sordid scene, a woman could be seen digging through a dumpster. Unlike the rest of the vagrants spread through the city and the world, she wasn't looking for food. Well, actually, yes she was. She had smelled something far away, and following a scent she had found it. Holding it up in the nascent moon light, it appeared to be...a fork. There wasn't much magic on it, and its effect could not be discerned immediately. She also wondered who the hell would enchant a fork? It didn't really matter, she guessed. Taking her scarf off and opening her mouth, she ate it. Yeah. Certain people would totally say things like "Silly you, you don't eat a fork, you eat with a fork!" The only person around who could say such things got used to these kind of things long ago, being one of this superheroic metropolis's many proud bums. He merely let her have her snack.
As Gold and Holocaust did their very nice introductions, a pigeon realized that this was one of the things that his boss would be very interested in hearing. Taking a mental note of the names, he flew off to inform a certain person...
edited 5th Aug '12 9:55:27 PM by wikkit
Chen poured over a report: something about pollutants having been found in one of the local ponds. She suspected one of those big shot corporations, or perhaps some villain with nothing better to do. One of the hazards of being in a city full of superpowered persons was the tendency for some of those people to be rotten apples. Of course, she wasn't entirely defenseless herself. A hand reached down to smooth out her dress, which was currently no better than any ordinary sun dress. At a whim though, that would change. The office she worked in, an environmental firm, was about to close down. Chen put down her work and decided to give herself a night's reprieve from trying to save the planet. At the window, a cat stared at her in curiosity. Chen sensed that it was hungry; her heart was responsive and she decided to give the little guy a bite. Chen looked around for something, anything that the cat might want. Her desk was bare, as Chen was a light eater. The trash cans in the office bore nothing. Then, a thought occurred to her. Her dress glowered a light blue for a moment. She almost toppled from the sudden weight that billowed around her shins, but she held firm and snatched down. A fish that was floundering it's way out of her supernatural dress found itself in her grip. Chen spoke towards it as sweetly as she could. "Dear child of the sea, would you mind your life ending today?" All things have their place in the circle of life. A rough approximation of what the fish actually said, as what it actually said could not be repeated in human context. Chen nodded, opened the window, and threw the fish to the cat. The cat was incredibly grateful. Chen, on her part, was pleased with herself. A little deed that had made her night. A minute later, The Zookeeper was out on the streets and walking home, dress still having fish splashing into and out of it.
That was her in. She was listening to the whole conversation. The Crime Boss, who went by The Thespian, was telling one of his men that three of their workers were spies, or something, and he gave them orders to kill. How did he know? She wondered why he was called The Thespian. It was probably because of the mask, and the fact that he supposedly acts dramatic, if you ever talk to him. There were rumors that he could see everything, but she thought that was a load of shit. He couldn't see her. She silently crawled up the underside of the dock, sticky pink residue scaling up. She followed the footsteps of the armed workers, and noticed one who didn't seem to be doing his job. She flipped over the dock, landed on his shoulders and shot a blast of gum in his face, rendering him silent. Before he could even claw at his own face, she shot out another web of gum at his body, wrapped him up and swung him into the water. The splash would alert someone for sure. She quickly opened a crate, and hide inside.
"Oh goddammit!" Alpha-3 said in exasperation as the splash echoed out. He held out a hand, and Alpha-2 tossed him the gun and picked up a second for himself. "Awesome, Thespian, turns out there's two people—" He looked at the Ice-Cream Man. "Perhaps three, based on whatever this guy has up his sleeve, who all want you done in. You can lose this and not feel inferior to me at this point, dude. Just surrender, since your luck is apparently really terrible." Alpha-3 looked at the gun. "I don't even know what this does, to be honest. It's probably pretty cool, though."
"I'm between jobs right now, if that makes sense." Jeff explained. "You aren't a hero, you say? Because normally I'm a hitman. Or a mercenary. Or whatever, basically I receive money and I fight things with these flamethrowers, you know? I'm just looking around for the inevitable Super-Brawl that's happening somewhere in this city; it's the equivalent of walking back and forth in the Tall Grass looking for a pokemon."
Thus the tall, black-armoured woman told the supervillain that lied in his bed, the magical dagger embedded in his throat draining his life-force bit by cruel bit. He sputtered.
"Bu-but... why?" he said.
"Because you have disturbed the balance," she told him, and threw her other dagger. It hit him between the eyes, finishing him off. She retrieved her daggers, closed the supervillain's staring eyes, and went out of the window, triggering the alarm, before vanishing into the night.
More likely than not, this unexplained murder's case would land on the metaphorical desk of one Detective Kane...
Subject 1138-b, known as 'Lutecia' to the customers of her tea shop and as 'Hawkeye' to the general public, was walking through Radio City's streets. A customer asked for a special kind of tea — Gunpowder Tea from China — and since it was well past the tea shop's usual operating hours, the kind girl took it on herself to deliver it straight to the customer's house.
So now she was enjoying the light wind as she walked, a small cloth bag swinging from her shoulder.
That is, until she chanced upon two men standing in the middle of the street; one of them said that he was a mercenary. Lutecia's mouth became a tight line. A supervillain, more likely than not. She stopped, about twenty metres away from them, and snapped her fingers, the sound echoing before being drowned by the roar of a miniature fireball; it exploded between the two men, the blast contained by Lutecia's powers so it didn't hit them, but that certainly did not exempt them from the heat.
"Hitmen are not tolerated here," she told Professor Holocaust. She sounded like a ten-year-old girl... except that no ten-year-old would be this commanding.
edited 6th Aug '12 11:00:37 AM by nman
"So it is three people wrecking Thespian then." Alpha-3 commented. Alpha-2 nodded and fired at the Ice Cream Man, a spray of heavy adhesive coming from the barrel of the gun. "Oh. So that's what it does." Alpha-3 said, then fired his gun at the guy who shot Alpha-1.
edited 6th Aug '12 1:53:49 PM by HouraiRabbit
edited 7th Aug '12 6:08:37 AM by wikkit