WatchmenComicMovie.com Forum

The OOC thread
http://www.watchmencomicmovie.com/forum/viewtopic.php?f=14&t=3823&p=127136#p127136


Plot/setting:

1976, a year prior to the Keane act. Superheroes in in a decline, with the public they are fighting to protect lashing out harshly against them. The rumor of government acts restricting vigilante activity is high, but for the moment the superheros are active and free to work as they see fit to keep the general public safe.

Any additions to the plot are more than welcome ((As you can see I failed at making one)). Otherwise feel free to play characters the way you see fit to. This is fandom, so feel free to pull away from the Watchmen plot a bit to continue with the story as its being played, just stay true to the characters. We all know the second Nite Owl won’t go looking for fights, and Rorschach wont flirt shamelessly with every woman in the room. Besides that just have fun!

RP Rules:
1. No Godmodding or autohits. Please give everyone the chance to respond to a post, no assuming a blow lands, or manipulating another character without the consent of the user.
2. Stay somewhat literate. Posts should be a few sentences long and written as though writing a book and not a text message. No ** to describe action, please.
3. Do not create repeat characters. I know everyone had a favorite character they would like to play, but there can’t be two Dr. Manhattans, ect. Let’s all try to be flexible and fair on this, if you can’t play the role please don’t apply for it. And if someone has not posted as a character in two weeks I will send a nudge asking what the problem is. If there is not a valid reason for not posting then the spot is up for grabs.
4. Avoid Mary/Gary Sues. If you create a character please try to make a balanced one. No one will want to play with a size 00 woman who can beat up four 200 pound men while baking brownies, feeding the poor, and putting an end to the cold war. Please be reasonable.
5. Please put out of character talk in labeled brackets, to avoid confusion. ((OOC: Like this.))



The character skeleton is below, for the sake of keeping the RP neat please PM all profiles to me and I will put them here at the front of the RP for reference. The amount of detail put into each part is completely up to you, the writer.

Original Character Skeleton.
Character list:

Username:

Character name:

Age:

Alias: ((If any))

Gender:

Sexual preference:

Character bio:

Special abilities:

Appearance: ((Either picture, description, or both.))

Character alignment: ((Hero, villain, citizen.))


Cannon Character Skeleton.
Character list:

Username:

Character name:

Age:

Alias: ((If any))

Gender:

Sexual preference:

Brief writing sample: ((A few sentences in the character of the role you wish to play. I will be fair, but nothing ridiculous.))

Special abilities:

Appearance: ((Either picture, description, or both.))

Character alignment: ((Hero, villain, citizen.))





Possible Cannon Characters.

Cannon Heroes
Edward Blake / The Comedian: Open
Dr. Jon Osterman / Doctor Manhattan: Open
Daniel Dreiberg / Nite Owl: Open
Adrian Veidt / Ozymandias: Open
Walter Joseph Kovacs / Rorschach: Open
Laurie Juspeczyk/ Silk Spectre: Open

Canon Minutemen ((Surviving))
Hollis Mason/ The first Nite Owl : Open
Sally Jupiter (real name Sally Juspeczyk)/ The first Silk Spectre: Open
Byron Lewis/ Mothman: Open


If I have missed any cannon characters you wish to play, or think should be mentioned please either send me a PM or mention it in the OOC thread. ^^ Thank you.

Blacklist: ((Those who break continuously break roleplay rules.))
No one


Keep it like that. ^^

((OOC: I just like coding and longer posts... Feel free to write as much or as little as you like.))


✖ ✖ ✖ Teyha Hiba Lockra ✖ ✖ ✖





It turned frigid up north far faster than Teyha was used to in the south. Still early November, but already the biting cold made the small girl shiver helplessly in her rough jacket, pulling the collar up to hide her cheeks from the stinging effect of snow flurries. She didn’t wear gloves, when she didn’t need to tug a piece of clothing back in place she shoved her hands deep into her pockets for warmth. As expected the city held no mercy even for the young. The good times of the world were gone, when people cared for the lives of those around them.

The new liberal thoughts brought with them an unbelievable cynicism and lack of concern for the wellbeing of common life. At the same time it claimed to care for the comfort of even the most undesirable of existences. The criminals. The insane. The incapable. Alone the ideals were glorious and even Teyha found herself imagining a just future, but they simply were not thought out, not supported. A world founded on raw idealism will destroy itself, Teyha had learned. Who would lead the new future? The liberals never stood alone; their aid of those who spun their own dark fate damned the victims through negligence. The heroes now stood in near exile, attacked by the public they swore to protect. Voices who cried for the end of corruption wrought another crashing wave of incompetence, of denial. Those that knew their jobs as well as they knew their own lives were forced out by wide eyed rookies. The world was in chaos, and no one knew quite how to save them.

“There’s still hope.” Teyha said suddenly, breaking her line of thought. She froze there in the street, a few heads turned in her direction, stepping around her as though she carried some odd disease they didn’t want to catch. Frustrated the young woman slung her bag off her shoulder. She pushed through the bit of food that she managed to buy the last time she had money. She couldn’t afford to eat it yet. Instead she grabbed out the thick medical text and propped it up on her arm, reading as she walked. The concern for the now outweighed the philosophy of the future. For the moment she would have to be prepared in case anyone needed an ounce of medical skill, so she could earn whatever money came from a rough setting of bone or amateur diagnosis of a disease. She was far from professional, but at least she was cheap.

▀▀▀▀▀ ▀▀▀▀▀ ▀▀▀▀▀ Anonymity is impossible ▀▀▀▀▀ ▀▀▀▀▀ ▀▀▀▀▀

((OOC: Please forgive my sloppy intros, I have never been good at starting posts.))

✖ ✖ ✖ Dhiren Jaeger ✖ ✖ ✖


Back in the time of prohibition Dhiren’s father began what was then a small bootlegging organization among those greedy enough to ignore the risks of such a trade. It did not take long for their small business to boom, and with success came a famous cruelty that spread out from their gang like fire. The only real threat at that time were the masked heroes that paroled the streets, too self righteous and driven by cause to be bought off the same way simple cops could be.

“Oh how the times have changed.” The young businessman laughed, tapping his finger lazily against the thick oaken arm of his fine chair. Prohibition ended years before he gained control of the illegal ring, but business was as healthy as ever. Human nature alone ensured that no matter how the times change there will always be a public demanding something harder. Alcohol was now legal, but narcotics was now the blood by which The Devil’s thrived. Customers were always readily found, and through creative bargaining their needs always filled, for a price. The ever present thorn were the so-named heroes that continued to patrol the streets. They were as untouchable as they were when his father began the underground trade, and were becoming more than a nuisance. More than ten men a month were lost to these vigilantes, and the higher the number climbed the harder it became to find those desperate enough to become grunts in his force.

Of course manipulation was a trait this businessman was not short on. What those heroes did not realize was just how many politicians enjoyed the fruits of his generosity, and how many in the public consumed his product. This generation of young adults were particularly stupid. Easy to hook on his drug, and once their reality began to warp it was only too easy to play them to his favor. “To the death of heroes.” He announced loudly, his low baritone resonating loudly through the large room. His lip quirked upwards at the thundering response, and he settled back, dark eyes glittering in the low light. Senators, congressmen, the wealthy and influential. All here at his beck and call, driven by greed until they were just more pieces for him to move on the board, and before the decade was out he planned to call checkmate on the most frustrating of his opponents.


▀▀▀▀▀ ▀▀▀▀▀ ▀▀▀▀▀ There is no mercy for the weak ▀▀▀▀▀ ▀▀▀▀▀ ▀▀▀▀▀

_________________
Carpe Noctem

Ernestine Friedmann
“Evil is just a point of view” - Anne Rice.



New York, the jungle of steel and stocks. And as any jungle, the dangers hid in the middle of the dark. The nightlife of New York was not to be enjoyed. Crimes raging from simple smuggling to mass murdering, the city seemed to change drasticly once the moon and the sun exchanged positions in the sky above. The rumors of vigilantes being banned didn't seemed right, netherless, crime existed like a clock work mechanic: it kept on going, and going.

It was dusk, and cold started to wrap the city - just as crime. The wishfull thinking of the good citizens could be felt, that crime was like winter, just another season. But with them demanding on their heroes true faces, and the tensions with the russians increasing, it would seem that it was going to be a very long season - a good one for those inside the criminal circles.

The shadow of a female could be seen running from above, jumping desesperatly from rooftop to rooftop. Acompanying the jumps, the sounds of a chain could be heard, just as the bell on a cat's neck. Ernestine had stolen a piece of bread from the bakery and, even if there was no one chaising her anymore, she could only think on running away to save herself. Just on her las jump, she missed her landing, slipping and falling not a long distance. A small shriek could be heard, followed by a sound only falling bodies do. She would open her eyes and see what was left of the recently baked bread: a now dirty mass, barely edible. She would pick it open and headed towards an alley across the street.

She sat, leaning on a wall and cleaned all the dirt she could of the bread, before devouring it like a starving beast of the wild. Her only companion - the imaginary blade - manifested upon herself, whispering mindless giberish that even she could vagugely understand. "Shut up! Let me eat alone." she would say to herself, as she made a hand motion to make the blade go away. It never worked, but it was better than doing nothing.

Ben Urich


Ben Urich sat at his type-writer, tapping his fingers across his desk in an empty gesture. When he opened his drawer to look for some smokes he found only an empty pack, and hit his knee as he got up from his desk. After buying a pack from the nearest drug-store he decided to take a shortcut back to work through a nearby alley. Through the darkness he heard muffled gasps. A loud groan filled the air as he lit his cigarette, causing him to drop it onto the pavement. The cigarette fell onto what seemed to be a symbol written in gasoline, igniting it. Flames reached up from the floor, revealing an r next to an inverted r, Rorschach's emblem. With the aide of the fiery logo's light, he could see in the corner a group of thugs tied to a fire escape, and beaten to a bloody pulp.

_________________
Say, Doc, did I ever tell you I'm the only metal that's liquid at room temperature?

✖ ✖ ✖ Teyha Hiba Lockra ✖ ✖ ✖





Slowly Teyha was becoming more and more accustomed to life in the city. Her reputation as a cheap and fairly reliable alley doctor grey in the slums, allowing her at least the money to afford a hot meal to enjoy. She was just moving from one of her more gruesome jobs, stitching an ugly gash on a man’s arm that had to be three or four inches long. A cooking accident, he tried to claim, but the young girl knew better than to believe that story. All the same, pay was pay. She could hardly complain about the way she made her living. It was certainly a more reputable occupation then many homeless women on the streets. With fifty dollars pay hot in her pocket Teyha moved to the nearest convenience store, snatching anything that looked edible, to be dumped in two large bags that she draped over each arm.

Now she almost bounded back through the streets, enjoying a snack cake fresh from the package. She was so ecstatic that she hardly noticed a faint red glow from the alleyway ahead, the flickering effects of a fire that no one else seemed concerned with. She moved forward cautiously, her desert finished, and peered into the lane to see what waited within.

Immediately she spotted a man standing before an emblem burning on the ground, staring at several men who were tied to a fire escape, looking very worst for the wear. The girl gasped once more, and surged forward, always ready to help. Wordlessly she set her food on the nearest flat surface and moved towards the men, rolling up the sleeves to her long jacket to check their vitals.

Engrossed in her task Teyha never took into consideration how it might appear to the onlooker. She was a small girl for her age, reasonably tall at five foot six, but weighing little more than a hundred pounds. Her short cropped black hair hung more like a teenage boys, in wild curls ending about her shoulders. Any curve of her body masked under the loose folds of far out of style clothes, and a thick jacket sized several times larger than needed. In short, she never considered how she looked more like just another street urchin going to release the trapped men, rather than a young girl who only wanted to ensure they did not die there in the alley.


▀▀▀▀▀ ▀▀▀▀▀ ▀▀▀▀▀ Anonymity is impossible ▀▀▀▀▀ ▀▀▀▀▀ ▀▀▀▀▀

Sophie was making her nightly rounds, traversing the familiar halls of the hospital with ease. It was graveyard shift. Sophie was one of the few nurses on call and things were quiet at the moment. Most of the patients asleep and the conjoining clinic was mostly empty. However Sophie had worked at the hospital long enough to know that it could all change in a heartbeat. All it would take was one gang fight, one marital fight gone wrong, one lit match in a shoddy apartment, and the ER would be sent into a tizzy.

Pausing for a moment Sophie looked out one of the large windows, the brightly lit halls turning the glass to mirrors, forcing her to squint to see through to the other side. Below, the court yard was empty, bare trees rattling in the sharp November breeze, which caused dead leaves to skitter across the ground. The lights of Manhattan burned brightly, casting eerie shadows across the city. Sophie felt a chill, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end, gazing at the city. She suddenly had the sensation that something...malicious was lurking just outside, out of her sight. Quickly she looked away before frowning. Still afraid of shadows? she asked herself. Shaking her head she smiled a bit. Better go check on Mrs. Roberts.

_________________
When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro.

--Hunter S. Thompson

Ernestine Friedmann
“Evil is just a point of view” - Anne Rice.



Finishing her meal, Ernestine decided to go on a walk to lower the food. Back in the night, it was best to keep on moving rather than staying in one single spot, for either vigilantes or other criminals could sieze the moment to strike. Her life was of a semi-nomad, wandering from alley to alley, hunting for food, searching for a place to rest. She wrapped the chain to her arm so that it didn't made any sound that would give her location, and headed out of the alley.

The streets were quite calmed compared to other nights, to what she sighed. Normaly, she would be angry on all the lousiness of some criminals, but then again it was all she could possibly hear as a lullaby. Nothing interesting, but the sweet silence of the night. Then, as she passed in front of an alley, she could faintly hear fire nearby. She headed back and peeked into the alley, hiding in the corner.

There, she saw two individuals, one standing still, possibly about to react to the gasoline fueled fire, and what seemed to be a girl runing towards the fire. Upon inspection, she could see some men tied to the fire escape, ready to be burnt. It was then when she managed to the de two r's symbol - the one used by the vigilante with the changing face. "Serves them right for being caught..." she sighed.

The girl was curious though, she had not seen neither of the two people: where they villians or heroes? She decided to look for a while, for whatever the answer to that question was, she needed to be familiarized with those around her that either caused trouble, or ended trouble.

((OOC: Things will start heating up soon. ))

✖ ✖ ✖ Dhiren Jaeger ✖ ✖ ✖



The Masks were becoming increasingly frustrating. Only minutes ago did he learn that thee of his more promising grunts were beaten and tied to a fire escape, their fate beyond that a mystery. The inverted R burned on the ground the symbol of who continued to hinder even the smallest of his operations.

Rorschach.

He would see that hero bathed in his own blood when the vigilantes lose their masks!

Ever calculating Dhiren showed none of his rage show on his face, standing resolute before several of his men. “Get them.” He ordered, dark eyes flashing. The confusion on their faces almost made the businessman growl, and he leaned forward pleasantly, only a hint of his anger creeping into his baritone voice. “Do you know what he told the mask?” He questioned. “They are more important people then you. I need to know what to protect.” Coldly he turned away, stalking back to his chair to watch the city from his chair. His city, soon enough. First the death of the masks then no one will stand before him.

▀▀▀▀▀ ▀▀▀▀▀ ▀▀▀▀▀ There is no mercy for the weak ▀▀▀▀▀ ▀▀▀▀▀ ▀▀▀▀▀

BEN URICH


Ben lit another cigarette and took a long drag. A small dark figure, perhaps male, maybe female, had quickly ran past him and started to help the brutalised thugs. A strange sight indeed. He contemplated what his next course of action. He wasn't sure if this person had even seen him. He slipped out of the alleyway and headed towards the pay-phone to call the police, and the rest of the press.

_________________
Say, Doc, did I ever tell you I'm the only metal that's liquid at room temperature?

✖ ✖ ✖ Teyha Hiba Lockra ✖ ✖ ✖






The matter of tending to the injured was top priority to Teyha. While the man slipping out of the alley drew a curious eye it still didn’t pull her from her immediate task, the men tied to the fire escape. None of them moved, their heads slumped forward, the rivets of blood glistening darkly in the moonlight. “Nasty…” Teyha whispered, reaching out tentatively to press her thumb lightly against their neck, until she found the stubbornly rhythmic beat of their hearts. Still alive then, if just for now. She pushed her pack from her back, and rummaged through it until she found the narrow switchblade she used from time to time, and as carefully as she could manage cut the men down.

“Oh ouch!” She cried in sympathy when they crumbled lifelessly onto the concrete, leaving her to loop her hands under the crook of their arms to drag them forward, grunting loudly at their weight until she finally had them lined up in the little light she had, to begin her work. Nothing was particularly life threatening, she noted. She noted the growing knots on their heads, numerous broken bones and lesions. Without a doubt they were beaten up badly. “You’d better feel lucky I’m doing this.” She whispered as she grabbed the first one’s wrist securely, and worked on setting the bone.
~

Dhiren’s informants littered the city, organized and obedient. It took little time for word to reach him about the capture of the promising young thugs who knew more than their share of his secrets. Information that could cost him millions, had they spilled it all to the masks who captured them. Now because of their interference he was having to run damage control, and needed to know which operations were compromised.

The grunts he sent after his men arrived as the screech of sirens sounded in the distance, announcing the approach of the police. “Quickly.” One hissed, and several men moved from the vehicle, surging forward into the alley. To their surprise they didn’t find their targets tied to the fire escape, but laying prone on the ground, the hovering figure of a young boy moving from one man to the next. “Hey!” The leader, Thomas, grunted at the dark figure, causing the stranger to jump slightly, eyes wild and locked on the invading force. In his hands were rolls of gauze and other medical supplies, which he was clearly using to help treat the injured grunts.

Thomas stood considering the situation for a moment before he gestured, motioning for the other men to move forward. “Him too, we need someone to bandage our guys up.” He determined, casting a cold eye on the small form. The thugs moved forward, and the young boy spun to run, sliding awkwardly in the splatters of blood that slicked the alley ground. He hardly made it a few steps before the quickest of Dhiren’s men grabbed a thick handful of his dark hair, and yanked him backwards.

The dark figure let out a pitched scream, the identity of her gender no longer a mystery, and the thug who caught her laughed, wrapping a thick arm around her narrow waist to pull her back. Her flailing and clawing was ultimately useless, and she found herself dragged back as easily as the unconscious men that littered the alley ground. “And get another medic, a real doctor.” Thomas continued, motioning to one of his men to move. “In case one doesn’t want to cooperate…. And someone shut that bitch up!” He snapped, narrowing his dark eyes on the screeching teenager until the man holding her shoved a thickly folded makeshift gag between her teeth, muffling her cries to soft grunts and whimpers.

“Let’s go.” Thomas ordered at last, gesturing back to the van. They couldn’t go back to Dhiren’s headquarters, of course. The risk of exposure was too high. They would have to find somewhere quiet to interrogate their injured men. Everything they needed would have to be taken from here, including the medics. On that order two of his men darted on foot to the hospital, to find someone skilled enough to bring back to aid in their men’s recovery, but small enough to easily be taken.

▀▀▀▀▀ ▀▀▀▀▀ ▀▀▀▀▀ Anonymity is impossible ▀▀▀▀▀ ▀▀▀▀▀ ▀▀▀▀▀

Ernestine Friedmann
“Evil is just a point of view” - Anne Rice.



Seeing the smoker heading out of the alley at the other direction, probably to either just not being into trouble, or to call them police force. With just the shadow aiding those thugs at the ground, she could peek a bit more into it without being detected, at least that easly. Sighing upon the image of thugs being aided by a self-proclaming hero in her eyes, her sword would manifest behind her, as if trying to bring Ernestine some reasoning, without much results. "A self proclaming hero saving those that do harm; funny." she said softly.

She would then catch a glimpse of some men heading towards the thugs, and now she was more entretained. After a little while, one of the men had captured the one who was giving medical aid to the thugs - a female, and an unfortunate one once Ernestine managed to catch a glimpse of the man giving orders.'Dhiren!' she thought, almost about to speak that name, hesitating and covering her mouth just in case she did spoke.

Those that were not heroes would eventually know Dhiren one way or another, indirectly or directly. A powerfull man, with many men ready to follow command; one had to be either stupid or strong - maybe a bit of both - in order to confront him. She would stay peeking in the corner; the plan of taking their money was now scratched, and soon she would either had to leave, or face the same fate as the poor medi-girl. Curiosity beat her however, and soon she would start looking for a way to following them - this night was going to be an interesting one.

They had taken the girl, some people would say it was my fault she got snatched. Some people don't understand the way life on the street works though. No one made her untie the scumbags I had strung up or try to tend to the beating I had given them. Some people just do not know when to walk away and then they wonder why the city needs people like me to clean up the mess. So I will follow them... probably better that way since taking out that many on the move would be messy. I will let them settle in then remind them why it is not safe to be a thug in this city. Someone has to do what needs to be done and even most of the hero's don't seem willing to take that last step and cross the line when it is clear this filth will not change. Luckily I don't have that problem.

Two of them peel off and head towards the hospital. Stupid move... dividing their numbers will just make this easier for me. I still have the old loading hook, steel pipe, and half a book of matches I found to finish dealing with the scum from earlier so I might as well hold on to them for now. I keep to the shadows and slip the hook and matches int one pocket while I let my other hand slip to the grapple gun in my pocket. Might as well make this quick if I have the chance. I spot a fire escape and use the grapple to get most of the way up before climbing to the roof via more conventional means. Grapple gun back in my pocket I make sure to keep on eye on the scumbags as I dash across the roofs leaping from one to another. I barely even pause when I drop to a crouch and snatch up a rusty chain from the roof top. I follow them for a few blocks and then spot another fire escape up ahead, perfect timing. I slide down the stairs looping around like an old hand on a fishing boat but stopping on the bottom set. A quick loop and a twist and I have a make shift pulley, a few seconds more and the hook is attached to one end, only takes a moment to attach the rest to the steel ladder.

I drop down before they know I am there and the hook goes between one scumbags shoulder blade and collar bone with a wet tearing sound as I kick the other into the gutter... it smells of kerosene, no doubt from some bums fire or space heater. The first piece of filth screams something about his back but I don't care. I jump up and grab the ladder pulling it down with my weight and its own... he screams some more while I use the last bit of loose chain to loop the wheel of a dumpster leaving him there hanging by his own bones. The other one is charging now, it is a really stupid move on his part. I light the matches and toss them on his sleeve where the smell is the strongest and he of course catches flame. He panics and I take his legs out from under him before dumping a barrel on him that has that same smell, probably where the stuff leaked from to start with. Flames dance higher and he screams for a second before he realizes he just scorched his throat and lungs. I turn my attention to the one still screaming and figure this is a good time for a talk, "Tell me where they are going."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alex was thoroughly bored by this latest charity event. Something about orphans of some thing or another. He smiled though and nodded shaking all the right hands and keeping up all the necessary appearances. He was far more interested however in hearing about the art heist he had orchestrated and how the efforts to slip some rare Mayan artifacts out of South America were going. Sometimes he thought that this double life was far more trouble than it was worth but at the same time proposed legislation would do little to nothing to ease his own problems. No it would simply make it 'more' illegal to have his fun as Omega and that simply did not appeal to him. As a criminal figure the act would have little impact on weather he continued to masquerade should he feel like it and with his families fortune, not to mention his misbegotten wealth, it would be a simple task to move back to the old world and continue his operations there.

In short the current political affairs had nothing to do with him and simply did not matter in his eyes. The politicians could be as short sighted as they wanted as far as he was concerned because it would simply make his plans run that much more smoothly. For now though it was business as usual and so he smiled and shook the right hands, flirted with the lovely women who he knew were more interested in his name and money than his good looks. Then when all was said and done he wheeled himself away from the two faced socialites and relaxed in his office sipping a nice vintage scotch. After a while he triggered a secret switch that combined with a small transmitter in is wheelchair to act as a proximity switch opened a hidden door and let him wheel into what he felt was his true study. Once there he began making calls to inquire as to the smuggling and high class crimes that were so much the game that amused him. The irony of course that so few even knew of the mysterious 'Omega' as anything more than a nightmare... but there were a rare few who knew the truth, that the enigmatic armored terror was also the mind behind some of the most lucrative crime sprees on record and that if any high class or high profile crime seemed too perfect, it was likely because he planned it.

✖ ✖ ✖ Teyha Hiba Lockra ✖ ✖ ✖







It took Teyha a minute to fully understand what was happening. In just a moment chaos broke out in the alley, those she was trying to heal now apparently being dragged off to some unknown location. Friend or foe mattered little to the young girl, she only wanted to get away from the thugs as quickly as possible, pushing herself to her feet to dart across the slick concrete. She barely made it a half dozen steps before a meaty arm dragged her back, pulling ruthlessly on her hair and pulling her all to close with a thick hand against the flat of her stomach.

“Let go!” Teyha roared, her voice cracking from strain, and she lashed out frantically at her captor. Unimpressed he simply shoved a greasy piece of cloth between her lips to muffle her frantic cries, a second strip of cloth tied tightly around her head to secure the gag. Another few jerks and Teyha found her arms bound tightly at the elbows behind her back, and the man lifted her without so much as a grunt from the effort, slinging her limply over his shoulder to bring back to his van.

~

With the exception of her thrashing and the occasional heavy handed blows of the men who caught her, the trip was uneventful. The driver veered the truck across town, and the sharp smell of salt in the hair gave Teyha a strong clue where she was, even if the darkness and general chaos surrounding the events prevented her from seeing or hearing the gentle slap of waves against the dock. The same thick thug who initially caught her slung her across his back again, and carried her to the battered building that they often used for interrogations. “Just set her down.” A man ordered, his baritone voice cutting through the chatter. With surprising gentleness Teyha found herself standing once more, staring directly at a man who couldn’t be more than twenty five. “Unbind her arms.” He ordered next, “She can’t work without her hands.” Apparently he noticed the way she quirked a brow, her mouth twisting down despite the thick wad of cloth wedged between her teeth. “Don’t glare. You’re just going to do the same thing you were doing in the alley. Fix these men up nice and pretty, so they can talk.” Her glower only made him laugh, and he reached to his belt, pulling free a long gun, that he pointed directly between the girl’s eyes. “You’re hardly in a position to say no.” He told her softly. “If you’re too slow to understand this, then let me explain. You will make these men pain free and lucid enough to talk, or I will shoot you. I won’t kill you with the first shot; I won’t kill you with the second… But you give me three strikes and your body will be found in the harbor tomorrow. You’re expendable; another doctor is on their way to replace you if needed. You play nice and you get to live. Is that understood?”

Teyha didn’t make a move, but the slight green that now tinged her pale cheeks seemed enough for him. With a jerk of his head his men threw the pack she used for medical supplies at her feet, ordering her to get started.

She untied her gag and began her work, frowning to herself as she busied herself on the first of the men. It occurred to her that her blind compliance would spell danger for many people. It didn’t take a genius to know these men were part of a larger organization. The dark haired man who threatened her didn’t seem particularly intelligent or charismatic, as any leader would have to be. The question now was exactly what was their relationship to the unconscious men before her, and why did they need them lucid? Allies maybe, trying to see what happened to have them tied to the fire escape… Or a rival gang trying to take advantage of the weak spot?

Either way Teyha couldn’t just let them have whatever information they wanted. Besides which, she doubted highly she’d live through the capture either way. Whatever they wanted from the unconscious men was important to the organization, and they seemed to fully intend on letting her hear every word, if it meant the men stayed awake long enough to finish. They either meant to kill her there, or drag her off to use on other jobs, a private doctor for whatever injuries they gathered in their crimes. Unacceptable, either way. She had to stall now. For however long it took for the police to track the group back to the harbor.

The bottled that filled Teyha’s backpack were mostly unmarked or unlabelled. She gathered her medicine from various patients who wanted to offer whatever help they could. She memorized long ago what the different colored pills did, and the side effects that went with it. She popped open the first bottle and emptied a dozen small white pills into her hand. A rather slow acting sleeping pill, but it should keep the men unconscious for a few long hours.

“What’s that?” Thomas demanded, eyeing the pills suspiciously.

“Pain relievers, I don’t have it injectable.” Teyha lied, yipping in pain when the man grabbed her wrist sharply to stare closely at the pills.

He picked out two of the pills, and passed them to the skinniest of the men. “Take them.” He ordered before turning back to Teyha to wave the gun under her nose. “Now you may give them to your patients, and if my man does anything but stop bitching about his headache that’s strike one.”

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He didn't want to talk to me at first. But a few tugs on that chain and you would be amazed what he would have told me. I left the filth strung up like a fish waiting to be gutted and as far as I am concerned the fish would have been more valuable. He will probably bleed out before anyone bothers to get him down... then again I left him fairly close to the hospital so some poor fool might save the worthless sack of garbage. But at least he told me he was heading to the docks. Figures... this sort is nothing if not predictable. Probably some old cannery or fishing boat and either way it plays to my strong suits. This will probably be quick... quick and messy. I made my way to the docks and to the berth I was told by that worthless scumbag and sure enough it was an old fishing boat.

One guard outside, arrogant and foolish. I keep to the shadows and slip silently closer but he never sees me coming. A quick jab to the throat and he is choking on blood before he can eve scream, a few shots to his ribs and he is practically out of it... the kick to his gut doubled him over though. I dumped him off the pier so he could sink to the bottom with the rest of the filth. The lock was child's play and I was inside in a flash. I could hear them down the stairs bit I headed for the catwalks instead. I could see the chains still hanging and I slipped the steel pipe I had found earlier into the chains n such a way as to fashion a loop. I wait for a guard to walk below and then I drop the loop over his neck and vault the edge. He makes a great counterweight for my decent, as long as you don't mind the sound of his neck snapping. It takes only a few seconds to secure the chain and thus the body overhead.

As always the shadows are my home as I creep closer to the filthy scum that is up for grabs tonight. I see the three I beat down earlier and three more besides them. Leader is up front with a gun and to cronies behind the girl. He has a clear line of sight to the door if he was paying attention but he is to busy threatening her. Again... stupid mistake. I fish out my grapple gun and take aim. I line it up just right and then let it fly like a trident out of the old gladiator stories. The claw snags his gun with so much force that it breaks several of his fingers before slamming it into his chest. From the sound of it probably cracked a couple ribs there. The line starts to reel in and the gun collides with the skull of stupid goon number one. Number two is spinning around already... to bad for him I am faster. Hard kick to his knee and I hear a snap, at the same time I follow through with my weight and lay a solid cross along his jaw... again I hear a snap. I drop into a crouch and roll over to Mr Boss man... and slam his head into the deck, "Lights out scumbag." I spin and lash out with a single kick taking the remaining dazed goon off his feat and then I am on tip of him. A few seconds later his face is a bloody mess and he is out cold. Two dead on the boat one in the streets, two cripples or maimed here and one on the streets, and the boss out like a light. Only real question is weather I stop or finish them off.

This is where Daniel used to reign me in, he didn't like me turning crime scenes into triage wards... then again that was before the little girl, that was before the fire, that was a long time ago. I know the scum deserves it but I don't need an audience... not for what I do. I pick the gun up off the floor and I untie the girl before I plant the barrel between Mr Boss Man's eyes and draw back the hammer... it is cold and impersonal. But then again scum like him does not deserve a personal touch. I manage to bark out a few words though, "Scram... this isn't anything you want to see."

✖ ✖ ✖ Teyha Hiba Lockra ✖ ✖ ✖





Teyha sat motionless, the gun aimed right at her head, ready to fire when the scrawny man he drugged fell unconscious. Time crept by unusually slow, and Teyha could feel the pulse of her heart loud in her ears, unusually fast, as if to make up for the fact that soon she wouldn’t have one at all. Her fingers shook in her lap, trembling helplessly, and she noticed with a clinical abstractness that the man’s eyes began to droop, his breathing growing slowly more even with each second.

Her rescue happened with such a startling swiftness she almost missed it. The man’s finger jerked at the trigger, but before he could fire his first strike against her he stumbled backward, crying out in pain. The hook that shattered the bones in his hand surged mightily back, striking the second thug before the Mask appeared, black as a devil and twice as deadly. His impossible speed and strength left Teyha in shock, the entire scene over before she even fully understood what was happening.

Once free she pushed herself slowly onto wobbling knees, and moved forward numbly, her eyes sweeping across the room as if to understand what happened. How could one man cause so much damage in such a short amount of time? She had heard of the masks, even as far south as she grew up, but thought the stories of their incredible strength had to be an exaggeration. But there was no mistaking this, no pretending it wasn’t an almost inhuman act of aggression. She was so wrapped in her own thoughts that she literally jumped when the hero spoke, his gun aimed squarely at the quivering form of the gun wielding thug. “No!” She gasped, rushing forward before she knew exactly what she was doing. She leaned forward to grab his gun in one hand, and placed herself directly between the hero and his target. “There’s no point in that!” She insisted, glancing behind herself just once to see the battered and bleeding form of her captor, his dark eyes locked on her, desperately seeking her aid, her forgiveness. “You broke half the bones in his hand.” She guessed, her lips curling down at the sight of the mangled mess of what was a functioning hand. “The scars of his face will mark him forever, and once the police arrive he’ll be taken to jail. Everyone will. There’s no point in killing them now!”


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Ernestine Friedmann
“Evil is just a point of view” - Anne Rice.



Poor Ernestine realized she had to get going from the alley as soon as possible, for the arrival of the ever-changing mask had appeard - Rorschach was fighting those criminals that she had found as entretainment. Her eyes grew wide as the man himself managed to handle them quite easly; his stories had reached her ears, but she would just think of them as propaganda - ready to boost those that he protected, and to bring fear to those that he fought against. Taking the situation to her advantage, and due to the fear of what might happen to herself if caught by the self-proclaimed hero, she ran away, heading towards a dead end.

Using a pipe nearby, she managed to climb swiftly to the celling of a three-story building. There, she sat at the very corner, looking back at the alley with the masked man. Things seemed to have lessen up, but still her heart pumped blood in a hastly manner. The blade manifested leaning on her shouler, trying to comfort her, pleaing for her to just ignore such things. "Both of them there... Trouble is bubblein' in the brew." she said with an innocent yet macabre tone. For her, survival was a must, but working hard to do so was not enough - there was always time to have fun. "Better go and check there the van headed; bet they have something interesting!" she said, dareing the blade to say otherwise, but as soon as she turned towards it, it had already vanished. 'Meannie.' she thought as she frowned.

She proceeded to jump from celling to celling in the middle of the night, hopeing to find something that would guide her to the vehicle's destination, with the sound of her chain echoing in the darkness.