Accessing Subject Registration File....
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[WARNING!] [WARNING!] [SYSTEM REBOOT INITIATED!]
Name: Daniel [Data Expunged]
Callsign: [Data Removed] "Dead Light"
Age: Estimated to be 29
Gender: Male
Threat: Maximum Threat
Known Affiliations: [Data Removed] Psi Terrorist Group "Priory of the Free Mind"
Appearance: Dead Light's facial features are unknown. All previous data on his appearance has been sabotaged and corrupted. Target has mastered blocking out his own image in the minds of others, as all witnesses describe either inaccurate or blurry details. Best descriptions only mention a "fairly tall, thin man", with camera evidence placing him around 6'5" and at an estimated 195 lbs. Beyond this, all we have is that he is caucasian, and is covered in many, many scars.
D 3d LyT3 is known best for his signature attire of a black hooded trenchcoat and a gasmask with glowing eyes. Triple-layered kevlar pokes out of his coat, along with the straps, harnesses and holsters for as many guns as he can carry without burden. Paramilitary combat slacks with ceramic kneepads are strapped high with knives, pistols, and grenades, finishing off with a pair of reliable steel-toed combat boots. D@eD 1YtE rarely ever lets even his skin show to others, even keeping his hands gloved constantly. His body is riddled with surgical scars and long-healed bullets wounds, while his athletic physique is showing heavy signs of wear and overexertion.
Criminal Record: [Data Expunged] Murder, assassination, assault, vandalism, destruction of private property, destruction of public property, divulging of US secrets, terrorist activity, impersonating police official(s), impersonating government official(s), theft, grand theft, arson, treason, desertion, failure to register, kidnapping, illegal level Psi, and aiding & abetting. He is responsible for the deaths of Sigma teams 1 and 8.
Equipment Proficiency: Dead Light is trained in the highest grade of military firearms, and has taken the skills of expert marksmen. Has a preference for close quarter weapons such as shotguns, SMGs, sidearms, and several kinds of melee weaponry. dAEd lYT3 is rarely ever without some kind of explosive or breach weapon, and utilizes several kinds of grenades. Notable weapons include his favored 1911 .45 Colt handguns, with optional silences, two small belts of throwing knives, and a length of high tensile cable tipped with the carbon-titanium hybrid alloy grappling spike. This cord is harnessed and holstered into D@3D lyt3's right sleeve, but has no motors nor mechanical parts of any kind. He fires and retracts it entirely through telekinesis.
Skills: Dead Light is highly trained in ways that would make a Navy SEAL envious, and what he was not taught he stole out of the minds of others. He is fully capable of piloting most forms of sea and aircraft, as well as armored vehicles. He is also extremely skilled in:
Hot wiring
Black ops
Counter surveillance
Low-grade hacking
Computer security
Several different martial arts (Krav Maga, Judo, Jujitsu, Jeet Kune Do, Tae Kwon Do, Muay Thai, MMA, Kung Fu, and Filipino Martial Arts)
Demolitions
Masters in psychology,
Masters in mathematics (though he doesn't really use it)
And especially shock and awe tactics.
It's through these skills that he has come to be one of the highest threats to Psi-CON there is.
Psi Level: Seven
Known Abilities:
- Telepathy- The very first of the Subject's abilities was to see and alter the memories of those around him. At the age of 13 he could already wipe, distort, alter, or add to the memories of multiple individuals around him without their knowledge. Within two years, the subject gained the ability to even steal the knowledge and skill of any person he spent twenty-seven minutes with, allowing him access to years of experience within only a few short moments.
[Post HADES Project]
[Post Achilles Project] Subject suffered severe damage to telepathic abilities, though retain far more strength than in other fields. Likely due to telepathy being the subject's base ability. Field of influence decreased to 60ft for all telepathic abilities. Subject can no longer erase the memories of any more than a single target. Memory alteration retained. Illusionary abilities retained, though victims require greater stimulus before synaptic shock levels became lethal. Thought reading and alteration retained. Suggestion retained. Remote movement retained. Mind control lost [89.8% probability]. Subject is still capable of blocking his entire being out of the mind of multiple targets as well as perception alteration. Ability to replicate and telepathically impersonate another individual retained. - Telekinesis- No abilities prior to HADES Project. [Post Achilles Project] Ability damaged. Subject can now only manipulate particles as fine as sand. Telekinetic strength lossed: 31%. Subject is still powerful enough to shield from single impact ballistic rounds ranging up to .55 caliber, though with far greater strain. High ROF weapons recommended. Subject can no longer completely protect against blasts larger than a M77 HE grenade. Subject is still capable of tearing through 3 inch-thick steel plating. Range of telekinesis severely crippled. Subject can now only influence objects no more than 2 ft away from his body. [Update] Subject has shown possibility of extending range at the cost of extreme, possibly lethal physical strain. new maximum reach projected to be 10ft [90.9% probability].
- Cryokinesis- No abilities prior to HADES Project. [Post Achilles Project] Ability lost [82% probability].
- Pyrokinesis- No abilities prior to HADES Project. [Post Achilles Project]
Ability lost[Update] Ability damaged. Subject is capable of accelerating the molecules in a target surface to support combustion of up to 1350 °C. Gathering intel suggest Subject's ability decreases with range, with within 2 ft being optimal. - EMF Emission- No abilities prior to HADES Project. [Post Achilles Project] Ability retained. Subject may freely interfere with any and all electronics within 45 feet of him, as well as disrupt any camera or targeting device that is currently viewing him. Computerized scopes and automated targeting systems are not to be fielded. [Update] Subject has shown issues with disrupting thermal imaging, although guidance systems still react as though target is chaffed.
- Electrokinesis- No abilities prior to HADES Project. [Post Achilles Project]
Ability lost[Update] Ability damaged. Subject can withstand and absorb no more than 65 milliamps, and can discharge only half of that through direct contact. The rest of the built current is grounded and released. Voltage levels appear to top out under three million. - Molecular Displacement- No abilities prior to HADES Project. [Post Achilles Project] Ability lost [93.1% probability]
- Molecular Transposition- No abilities prior to HADES Project. [Post Achilles Project] Ability Lost [99.7% probability]
- Distant Precognition- No abilities prior to HADES Project. [Post Achilles Project] Ability lost [70.9% probability]
- Imminent Precognition- No abilities prior to HADES Project. [Post Achilles Project] Ability damaged. Subject's connection to incoming events now is clocked in only at 223 seconds. Accuracy and frequency of precognitive information now decreases with range. Current estimation places constant, precise premonition range at around 20-25 feet. Subject still maintains near-omnipotence within his effective range, completely negating all of his disabilities. [Update] As shown through imminent-precognitive testing, the Subject's link to near future events, like that of all Type-B Precogs, appears to become scrambled and far less reliable when facing off against another Type-B Precog.
- Psionic Resonance Assimilation- The result of Project HADES' success. Subject is able not only steal the skill and experience of a target, but now take their Psionic resonance as well. Subject kept assimilated power indefinitely. [Researcher Note] The percentage of probability that this power was lost can not be listed, as we have no evidence support this claim. The subject already was showing signs of reluctancey before the Achilles Project, and audio evidence has quoted him having extended conversations and even heated arguments when the subject was completely alone. It is believed this is a reference to his increasing severity of MPD, which the subject claimed was a side effect of this ability. [Update] This ability appears to cause lethal synaptic backlash to any "Reaver"-type Psi who attempt to feed on the subject. Why this result occurs is being further studied.
- Psionic Physiology- The only successful results of the Achilles Project. Through the use of subconscious psionic manipulation, the subject's electrical impulses are far more powerful than a normal human being. Synaptic responses in reaction time happen near-instantaneous. Muscle fiber bundles are more tightly clustered and densified as a result of semi-constant contraction. The subject has shown decreases in fatigue gain by 130%, proving that his own resonance is actually supplementing the energy his body has to burn. The subject's overall physicality shows to be much more endurant to constant use, though whether this is enough to compensate for any long-term damage it may cause to itself is unknown.
Personality: Due to the overuse of D 3d LyT3's Psionic Assimilation, he has been in an increasingly downward spiral of psychological instability. With each Psi he drained, he received not only their powers, but their memories, skills, and even their entire personality. The struggle for his original personality to remain dominant was constant, finally culminating in his complete removal from what is now D 3d LyT3's psyche following the event the failure of the Achilles Project. As his then-massive levels of power raged out of control until they burnt themselves out, his mind became a battlefield for every identity he had ever absorbed. The results came down to the now remaining
Dorothy- Despite the cruel nickname from his "compatriots", this is what remains of the original host. "Dorothy" is comprised of mostly memories and emotions from the Subject's days before being taken by Psi-CON. As it stands, this personality contains the last fragments of the Subject as a decent, moral, and all-the while naive human being. It's possible this is one of the first newly formed personalities after the "mind war", although it is also one of the least dominant. It seems agreed amongst the others that, for the sake of their collective survival, Dorothy "stays away from Kansas".
Toto- This is all that's left of the host. A fragmented hollow shell made up of only hardened discipline, years of indoctrination, and soul-crushing loyalty. This one is devoid of any hint of emotion or individuality. "A good little soldier, who always does what he's told. If he acts as a dog, then he'll wear one's name." Toto is perhaps the very least dominant, often no more than a sulking figure lurking amongst the background of the subconscious. At the most, he is but a droning voice "which we find very easy to silence...."
Scarecrow- Brash and impulsive, this personality is always the first to act before thinking. He is reckless, ruthless, blunt, and often arrogant. This personality longs for the kind of high one can only get from tempting fate, all the while flaunting a delusional air of invincibility. Generally aggressive with scant care for consequences, the Scarecrow tries whenever he can to usurp control. Though for each of their own sake, he is also one of the most held back.
Tinman- What one could only describe as emptiness incarnate. The Tinman lives up to his name as the thought, reason and logic behind each carefully laid action, though at a fault. Every step must be measured, remeasured, and twisted to suit one's own purposes before taking the first step. He lacks the drive and passion of the others. The burning hatred needed to push beyond boundaries and limits, of which D 3d LyT3 faces many. Tinman is methodical and calculating, but lacks the adaptability needed to survive against forces like Sigma. It is from this lack of drive that he never is able to proclaim dominance.
Lion- The life of oneself comes before the life of others. At least, that is what the Lion sees. He is the lone survivor. The one who endures all through the sacrifice of others. In a way, he is the end game. The Lion is treacherous, deceitful, greedy, selfish, and true to his name rather cowardly. He despises how often Scarecrow gets his way. He reviles this supposed "master scheme". He longs for nothing else but to live. To use D3d LyT3's powers to slink away into the shadows and vanish from everyone's mind. He is convinced that a second war of the mind may occur, and no matter what, the Lion will make sure he is the one who lives.
The Great and Powerful Oz- None of the others is quite sure where he came from. One day he was simply there, where there once stood nothing. It didn't matter though. He may not have been the first, but he quickly secured his dominance over the body. Oz is now the default personality of D3d LyT3, reigning supreme following the events of the Mind War. He sees the ideals of humanity are not ones to squander, but is more than merciless enough to survive in this world. He is manipulating, though knows when to act. He is impassioned, but always makes sure of where he leaps. He has the will to live, but knows his survival is dependant on others. Ah, yes. Others. The Priory. Oz knows the complacency of his fellow "inhabitants" will not go on forever, and already constantly has to fight off their attempts to usurp him. Though he will not deter from his grand design and unerring hatred of Psi-CON, he realizes that even a ghost needs somewhere to haunt. Oz also occasionally finds himself in need of powerful telepaths to help quill potential uprisings in his own head.
What he understands the most is that D 3d lyT3 cannot survive as he is, and is likely to burn up before long. He is essentially a bomb that's still ticking. But Oz is also the most willful of them all. It's through his drive and determination that this tired body pushes ever onwards towards Oz's goal. Total revenge. That's all there is to it, that is why D3d LyT3 hunts, stalks, terrifies, and kills. And all his ways will become worth it in the end. After ll, it won't be long now.....
The Witch- The hunger. It was born the day they began testing for Project HADES, and in a small way it never left. During the Mind War, it consumed so many personalities, yet still gained none of it's own like the others. It was what the host identity became. This was the subject. And then Dorothy dropped a house on it and took it's only pretty things, it's ruby memories. The end.
Role in story: D3d LyT3 has become something akin to Stephen King's Candyman. To most, he's a living urban legend, a boogeyman of sorts. Though for those who know him beyond some hoax paranormal myth, they know he is far more frightening. D 3d LyT3 is nothing short of a Grim Reaper. A weapon to be used when options leave no other choice. It's no secret that Xiaoyan Jin is not pleased to have such a loose cannon around, but times leave little choice. They both realize how dependant they are on each other in this. All of the legal telepaths nearly get consumed by simply entering his mind, they simply can't help him keep control. He needs the more powerful Psi within the Priory. Of course, the Priory itself needed a very big stick for when their peace talks failed. What they found in D 3d LyT3 was a chainsaw.
History: Subject's name was Daniel [Data Expunged], older brother of Alex [Data Expunged] and son of Marcus [Data Expunged]. The mother has not been recorded. Subject spent twelve years of his life in his hometown of Toledo, Ohio before his father's seemingly erratic decision to move into rural Virginia. The father was recorded as being a Pre-Dawn Psi, which was extremely rare. Post Dawning records show that he was a very powerful Type-C precog, with an Imminent range extending ten entire minutes ahead. It is theorized, with aided evidence of a witnessed panic attack in public, that the father may have foreseen the events of the Dawning, moving away just in time to avoid the total destruction of what is now the Toledo Graveyard. Simple estimations place Daniel at thirteen years of age when the Dawning occurred.
Due to the sparse population of the greater Virginia state, it was among the first locations within the US to return to "normal". Young Daniel, now unknowingly a Psi, began schooling once reinstated. It is here that we have determined he discovered his abilities. Eye witness claims detail Daniel getting away with things he had clearly been caught doing, and even convincing his homeroom teacher that it was his birthday twice in one week. By the time Psi-CON was established, Daniel would have been 15 and believed to be in constant use of his powers. Psi-CON did not become aware of the subject until Daniel began completing mathematics tests with the same accuracy as the visiting college professor that day. In the year the PRA passed, Daniel and Alex were both tested positive for Psi Resonance. Alex took after the father as a precog, while Daniel turned out to be a rather gifted telepath in the field of memories.
Both siblings were contained by Psi-CON, while the father managed to escape. We were at the time far too ill-prepared to attempt the capture of a precog. The brothers were subjected to a five-year indoctrination process. The end results became the start of what we now know as the Sigma Protocol. Within the first year, Sigma 1 had already faced off against two Level 7, successfully eliminating both. Further probing and experimentation into the nature of the subject's ability lead the the designing of Project HADES. The artificial recreation of a growingly common Psi classification now commonly known as "Reavers". The goal was to create a Psi which could replicate their ability to siphon the resonance of other Psi, without suffering from the gradual loss of power. The Project goes live the following year, and is heralded as a success. Complications begin to rise as subject continually remarks about voices and troubling dreams.
Psychological stability of the subject begins to become questionable as he is exposed to and assimilates more incarcerated Psi. Undisclosed psychiatric evaluations and counseling begins, and continues for several months, confirming suspicions that the subject is suffering from severe Multiple Personality Disorder. Further testing shows that with each assimilation, a new personality based on the absorbed memories emerges. Psych Evals abruptly end after the subject began psychoanalyzing his counselors. It became very apparent that he still kept his original ability. A recent breakthrough lead to the design of the Achilles Project, a plan to convert the unused amount of Psionic power high level Psi emitted inward to strengthen the overall physiology of the subject well beyond that of normal humans. Because of his rapid growth in power and level, Daniel was selected to be the first test subject.
His mental instability was showing signs of becoming hazardous, raising several questions as to whether or not he was fit to serve as the test bed for the Project. However, it was deemed that the risk was greatly outweighed by the potential rewards, and Achilles went green. Disaster. The subject reacted with an unpredicted surge of power, destroying the entire eastern wing of the facility. Subject became extremely hostile, no longer responding to name or callsign. Subject began attacking Psi-CON personnel indiscriminately, and is quoted to had been screaming: "The lights. The lights are dead. The dead lights are everywhere. They are dancing. Look at them." Within the hour the remaining force of Sigma 1 was dispatched to eliminate their former comrade. All Sigma 1 operatives were lost, except one. Remaining survivor was retransferred. After initial surge of power, the subject began screaming in pain. All of his abilities appeared to be withering, and containment was possible. The psionic surge had burnt out massive amounts of the subject's powers, and had appeared to even irreparably damage the neurological link to both his eyes and ears. Subject was rendered completely deaf and blind.
Subsequent testing revealed that the subject had not lost all abilities. Thorough testing was scheduled to determine the full extent of the damage, but was never completely. Subject revealed that his remaining powers were enough to overcome not only his newly made disabilities, but to escape containment. March 26, 2026, the target completely vanishes from Psi-CONs radar and continues to evade detection for two full years. Trace is picked up again in New Boston, Massachusetts. The subject, now identifying himself as "Dead Light", decided to turn the city into a bloody gauntlet following Psi-CON's clean-up operation of the terrorist cell "The Priory". Strikes teams deployed en masse to the city, with several casualties following. This "Dead Light" evaded capture and elimination for exactly eight months and twelve days, finally ending his spree with the assassination of New Boston Police Commissioner James Harris Esbern. City-wide manhunt is held for the subject, spanning several weeks, with Psi-CON having no choice to to deny full disclosure to protect it's assets. The remaining officers of the city conclude that this was the work of a Psi organisation, and that the subject is "no more than a ghost story". Subject disappears from radar.
One year later, subject re emerges in his home state of Ohio. Sigma teams 7 and 8 are dispatched immediately. What began to appear as a bloody military campaign ensued, until subject once again vanished after several months of fighting. Sigma 7 returned with no casualties. Sigma 8 was KIA. Two years passed since any sign of subject "Dead Light", until recent reports added to the probability that he may have returned to New Boston. Psi-CON began to monitor all rumors and reports of said "supernatural being", finding the witness accounts to match that of the subject. Reports place his return at approximately three months. Police reports mark the return of previously thought exterminated resistor cell "The Priory", and it is theorized that the two events are linked. Sigma teams 7, 3, and 12 dispatched. Termination of "Dead Light" is high priority. The last time the subject made this his hunting grounds, he murdered an Commissioner. It is the mutual understanding of the investigative division that we don't want to see what his next trick is. Subject's psy[Data Corrupt]gical patte[Data Corrupt]laces likely [Data Corrupt]eabouts at [ERROR] [FILE HAS BECOME CORRUPT]
RP Sample: (I did not mean this to drag out like it did X_X)
Brilliant bolts of dark violet electricity arced throughout the thick tangle of neurons in the sky above. Powerful strikes of the purple lightning blasted away at the remains of ruined, decrepit structures. The bombed out remains of once towering buildings slowly sank into the sea of black sand and inky tar below. Voices, thoughts, memories, all danced and shot around, escaping their captors for a moment before being gobbled up once more. The last survivors in this dreamscape, shadowy, twisted and heinous forms, gathered around their enigmatic "leader", as he made ready one more step in his design.
Haha! YES! Some fire for those bastards! We should have done this from the start, may have saved those weaklings!
Quiet, you fucking brat! They fought, too! They just died! They failed. We won't, Hahahahahahaa!!
They won't take this lightly. You know that. What are we gaining from this? What are we forcing this city to endure? Have you thought about any of this, or is your little vision so damn precious?
Enough! All of you. You fear this because you have doubt. You are pathetic. And you, Scarecrow, are far too simple, too stupid to see anything other than violence in this. I seek true revenge in this, on the ones responsible.
You are too naive to understand. That is why I do this. If we kill him,They will follow. To a dead place, where we can hunt them.
You want us to be bait?! Are you insane!?! You'll send us all into the dead lights, just so you can drag them down as well! You'll kill us!
I Won't Have It!!
The yellow-eyed nightmare roared, lunging forth at the towering mass of blackness. It clawed and flailed, lashing out with claws of shadow and madness, trying as best it could to pry away the mask from the wizard's grip. To Hell With You, Coward! Oz boomed, his back becoming alive with massive hands of darkness. Their limbs intertwined into one colossal appendage, gripping the entire head of the Lion with crushing brutality and flinging him away into the abyss of the mind. I have had enough of this! The next one to challenge me will be ripped in two. The other products of this lost mind did not step forward, reluctantly submitting once again to his reign. The malevolent purple eyes of Oz lit up as he saw a face amongst the backdrop, beckoning them forward in as demeaning a manner as possible.
*Whistles* Here doggie! Come here, boy! The shadowed form rose as a humanoid, though devoid of all features. It peered back at it's "master" with deep, hollow black eyes, stepping forward as ordered. Good boy.... Is our gift ready?
The belittled figure was hesitant to respond, before finally droning out in an emotionless voice. ......Yes sir. Effective radius should be within eightteen-point-five meters. As you asked.
A massive hand materialized from Oz, patting the dwarfed humanoid on the head in mock praise. Who's a good doggie? Now, if you spineless, brainless weaklings are finished, I am moving forward. The wizard brought the mask to his face as slime-covered tendrils emerged, eager to greet and envelop the entire thing. In a great spark of awareness, the dreamscape faded away into the skyline of New Boston. The crispness of the winter air seeping in through the gas filters, chilling his lungs and reminding him oh how good it is to live. He peered down from his perch at his quarry below, always one to savor these delicious moments of calmness and unsuspecting before the coming darkness. Before the dead lights could shine through.
New Boston Police Department, East side Precinct. December the 8th, 2028
The station was unusually busy for this time of year. This was odd, not as much from lack of crimes, though everyone wished for that, but more so from a lack of people on the streets to report them. The nights were dark, frigid, and unwelcoming. No one wanted to risk walking them alone, and it was sadly true that one could get away with almost anything. Officer Nathan Pierce, a fresh cop just burgeoning on veterancy after four years on the streets, took in the slight bits of warmth and comfort his coffee had to offer, only to find his cup had run dry. He grumbled at this little metaphor of his life thus far, trying to rub the weariness from his eyes. The clock had run well past midnight some time ago, dragging into the ante meridiem.
"Hey Pierce!" a familiar voice came over the general droning of the office. "Christ, Samantha, how the hell can you be this active at three A.M.?" Pierce swiveled in his chair with a groan, but also a generally warm smile on his face. "Years of practice. So, you finish that paper work yet?" she beamed back at him. "Would I still be here if I had? Seriously, how the hell does one guy take out three whole mall outlets in ten minutes?" Nathan shook his head as he turned to finish typing the other half of a sentence into the report. Sam just let a a light-hearted chuckle. "Easy, when you're a major creepazoid and your brain is a bazooka." It really is amazing how a cop can literally have seen everything in only a few short years these days. Sometimes, making humor of the dark bits helped the days go by. Nathan just rubbed his eyes again. "Yeah, I guess....."
His fingers danced on the tops of each key, clicking away until the lights all throughout the station flickered at once. His was one of several heads to raise up with confusion, until they returned to normal. "Weird....." Pierce uttered in a low tone, still eyeing the light above his head suspiciously. "Yeah, I thought all the wires were shielded.... Eh, who knows. It's' not the first time weird shit has happened. I mean, we are technically on the edge of where an old Graveyard use to be." That made him chortle a bit. "Yeah, Sam, I'm sure those ghoOoOosts did it" he mocked, wiggling his fingers for added embellishment. His battered office chair creaked as he stood, grabbing his emptied coffee cup and looking to Officer Samantha Caid. "I'm going for some more joe, you want any?" "Oooooo" Sam replied, inhaling sharply through her teeth, a pretty clear sign she had some bad news. "Peterson, the boy wonder, kinda broke the coffee maker... You're gonna have to use the machine on the ground floor."
"Yep, that's just my luck..." Nate remarked, shaking his head as he took the short stroll to the elevator. Tapping the button, he patiently waited in front of the big, shiny metal door before it dawned upon him. Nothing happened. Tapping the button repetitively didn't yield any better results, only further aggravation. "God damn it, all I want if a fucking cop of coffee....." With a sturdy and unyielding thunk, Nathan's clenched hand smacked the buttons, and his only reward was another flicker of the lights above. "That's it, we gotta get an electrician t-JESUS!!!" Nearly walking right into.... it, Nathan stared in disbelief at the figure which appeared to have just blinked in right behind him. A figure in a black trench coat and hood. And that mask...
It all played in slow motion for him. This little man who was now stumbling backwards. The last splash of liquid escaping his cup. The clutter of papers another had knocked over slowly drifting to the floor. All taking an age where it should have been an instant. It was almost.... serene. The cop's scream alerted the rest of the herd. He could hear them shuffle around. The sudden clinking and banging of drawers being flung open. The clicking of safety switches as a dozen handguns were aimed at his head. A billion different visions went through his mind. In some, he got away unscathed, but in the majority he was torn to pieces the moment he moved. Ah, here they came. A line of borgs, half-clad in their kevlar with some still fumbling with a few clasps, made up a firing squad at his back. All armed with a twelve-gauge shotgun. "I don't know who you are, jackass, but your in deep shit! Get your fucking hands up! Now!" The dark figure complied with the order....
Perfect.....
"Alright, on the ground!"
Idiot! Why would you reveal yourself now?!
"I said on the fucking ground, asshole!"
Tell me, have you ever wondered why most people are right handed?
"Last chance, we will open fire!" Every hand in the line was gripped tightly around the trigger, waiting for the word or for their target to try something. It didn't matter. "Simon says...." he muttered aloud, taking the moment to be sure of the link. "Wait, what'd he say?" Before another word was said, it happened. A simple jerk of his left hand, and suddenly all the guns were aimed at the person to their left. A clench of his right hand, and all the triggers were pulled. As seven out of eight bodies hit the ground, there was a stunned silence following were none of the sheep knew how to act. But He did. The last one standing didn't even realize that the target was now facing him, until he felt an invisible force wrap around his head. His face was slammed into the floor with skull-cracking force, as the hostile reached out his arm to an office chair. That same chair became a missile, flying ludicrously fast into another borg's face. All Officers opened fire, hitting nothing but air. The target had vanished.
Suddenly all the lights began to hum as they grew brighter and brighter, till finally they all burst. All sources of light began to follow suit, leaving only little things such as computer screens, laptops, and soda machines. And now the fun could begin. In the places were the shadows were strongest, they saw them. Two perfect orbs of dark purple. Two eyes of malevolence, haunting them all. They took shots when they saw them, desperate to put him down. They were making this easy. All it took now was simple mind games. Were once an officer saw his partner, another glance showed a monster with those damned eyes. Of course, he fired. They all did. And the body of an ally fell bloodied to the ground, dead by their hand. There was no time for guilt, as the Dead Lights would offer him mercy. He turned, and saw them. The scream was cut from his throat before it escaped his mouth. In a vain attempt for revenge, one of the badges decided that a personal approach should be taken. The stun stick buzzed as it dove straight for the back of that coat, but the officers arm was caught in the blink of an eye. Now face to face with the mask, the blue had no time to stop the cut across his wrist. A strong kick dislocated his leg, followed by the burning of that knuckle knife gliding over his femoral artery.
The stuck pig was flung away by a blast of telekinesis as two arms shot around the waist of the faux apparition, attempting what some would call a "full nelson hold". No sooner had the jock locked his fingers behind the perpetrator's neck did every single one of his digits snap backwards, instantly freeing his perp again. In a flash of black fabric, a large combat knife found it's way straight through the drone's temples. One final try was made to grapple with this... thing, wedging a nightstick underneath it's chin. The two wrestled and struggled, spun and stumbled, as the rest of the blues took up cover on the far side of the cubicles. Finally the man in the mask threw the cop over his shoulder, drawing a gun for the kill. "Take 'em down!" The repetition of gunfire roared forth, blitzing and battering against kevlar body armor, and of course the body beneath it. As a few stray rounds shattered the mask, it revealed only the face of "the boy wonder". As his legs lost strength and his knees thudded against the ground, the rest of the disguise faded into black dust.
"Oh God, Peterson!"
"Shit! Shit! We fucking shot him!"
"Where the fuck did he go?"
What they thought was there comrade originally had vanished. Flashlights and laser sights darted around, trying to spot the invisible killer. The one place were they failed to watch was their flank and that would cost them. Popping up with guns blazing, their target made a made dash towards cover, rapidly emptying both magazines of forty-fives. Accuracy didn't matter, he just wanted to spook them, to toy with them. But everyone get's bored eventually. Shielded by a support column, the spectr took a moment to reload. Bullets and buckshot blasted away inch after inch of stone and marble. As instinctual as a breath, both empty clips were flicked out of their guns. Fresh mags leapt from his coat and slid into each port, followed by a second pair of colts which hung in the air by his arms, and then two more full-autos with extended clips. He waited. Only three or four seconds to us, but an eternity to him. He waited for just... the right... moment. When they would mistime a reload. He swung around the corner of the column, taking slow, long steps as he unloaded with all six guns. He counted the shots in his right, saving one for... well, his target.
One by one, his guns clicked empty, and he let them fall to the floor. All save the one, with the one bullet, meant to stop old James Esbern as he tried to scramble to another weapon. That bullet went straight into his femur. He wasn't the only one left though. Oh no. Three. Two. One. His hand shot out just as an actual shot occurred. A metallic ring changed and varied in pitch as the still spinning bullet stopped merely inches from his palm. The cop who fired the shot couldn't believe her eyes, dumbstruck that anyone, even a Psi, could actually catch a bullet. She didn't even react when the round was fired back at her. The speed of the round would never have been enough to punch through kevlar, but she hadn't time to grab her vest. She was simply on the late shift, chatting with a friend. D3d LyT3 saw this in her memories. A reminder that he is not immune to the pangs of guilt, however slight, but guilt none the less. Not all humans deserved this. Oh, but many do. A reminder of why he is was only a few feet behind him, standing on shaky legs with a loaded scattergun. The old man fired....
The shot tore through the back of the coat, spewing black tar and bile onto the floor. The entire being melted down into the viscous fluids, slowly reaching out along the floor. Commissioner Esbern could only gawk at the odd sight as the vile liquid stained the bottoms of his shoes. A sudden vise like grip ensnared his throat as an outstretched, inhuman, impossible arm stretched three meters from the "corpse" to him. From the slime came a figure that broke all rules of what should exist. it's body was made of twisting bone and clinging, blackened meat. Inky smoke and whirling shaded cascaded over him. Thick, black tar bubbled and formed what one might call a head. And then, burning through the primeval ooze of it's rancid face, came those two glowing eyes. Two bottomless pits of raging eminence, burning brighter than the headlights of a squad car. This monster of living nightmare flung him back-first against the wide-area windows of the fifth floor with enough force to crack the "hurricane rated" glass. Before the Commissioner could even fall to his knees, the hand was at his throat, lifting him off the ground.
"You son of a bitch.... They'll be coming up those steps. They'll fill you with holes...!"
The old man's threats were cut off by the ringing of the phone in his office across the hall.
"Do you hear that? That's the secretary two floors down, calling about the lights. Gunshots register in a very special area of the mind. An area I'm helping them ignore. And the ones I can't? Well.... you have very good soundproofing hear. Three floors down? Nothing...."
"What.... are you?!"
"Do you remember a day before the lights died?"
"Wh-What?!"
"It may have been before you heard the whispers in your ear. The little voices who bent you, broke you...."
"I... I don't know what the f-fuck you're talking abou-Gagghhh!!!" The Commissioner writhed in pain as he felt two more hands clasped the sides of his head, prying his eyes open. Another clawed hand dug it's tipped fingers into the back of his head, and yet one more grabbed hold of his bottom jaw.
"The Priory helped you, before. They wanted you to show what the Psi could be. They helped you become what you are. A bitter lie, now. They placed you here in confidence. Your payment to them.... When Psi-Con and Sigma came for blood, you repaid them by taking this finger....." The nightmare hissed, summoning a tendril of shadows to wrap around his index finger, snapping it like a twig. "And you pointed it right at them. And you said "sic 'em".... Your hands were filled with your thirty pieces, so what must come next?" No more words came from Esbern, as a cord was pulled taut around his neck. The look on his face was fear, the only thing he could show as he gazed into those lights. The Dead Lights were watching. "It's almost Christmas. You're going to be my card." A blast of telekinesis sent the Commissioner flying out the window, the cord around his neck going over one of the flag poles which protruded from the side of the building, making a makeshift gallows. The other end was quickly fashioned, leaving him hang for all the morning crowds to see.
"And of course, what is Christmas without presents?" D3d LyT3 mused, abandoning the illusion. He walked nonchalantly on a direct path to the supply room, humming hymns from outdated films. Though he paused halfway, glancing over at the staircase leading up. Still humming along, he scooped up one of the discarded shotguns and used it to bar the door. Didn't need anyone interrupting. Back to business in the supply room, as he leapt up and knocked out on of the ceiling tiles. Gripping the edges of the opening with his hand and ankles, he felt around in the ceiling space for his gift. "Up on the rooftops, click-click-click..." he dropped back to the floor, satchel in tow. "Down thru the chimney comes old Saint Nick." Prying open the elevator doors with invisible hands, he stepped in and dropped the pack right in the center. He could hear someone jiggling the door he blocked earlier, but they wouldn't get in in time. Unzipping the bag, all he need do was set the timer. Fifteen seconds, on the third floor. Should be enough to wipe out most of the others, but leave some survivors. That was just as important. Fiddling with the elevator wiring he cut before the shootout, the panel lit up with new life, and he stepped out just as the doors closed.
"The memorial which we erect today, in front of the newly recommissioned Eastside Precinct is a reminder of this horrible tragedy, and the loved ones we've lost. Commissioner Esbern and his fellow officers will be remembered as heroes. The search for this person or persons is ongoing, with the best of both New Boston's finest and Psi-CONs elite operatives working around the clock to bring them to justice."
-Mayor Creed.
-Mayor Creed.
Password (Oh no, no cheating off of me. You can do it, I have faith :p)
