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Isaiah Jones "Slugger"

"Me, you, and The Concrete Jungle. One swing at a time."

0 · 1,000 views · located in Modern Day

a character in “A Pledge for Justice”, as played by Deallo





General Information

Villain "14 years old, and I'm a villain. Woop-de-fucking-doo. Least I got my own gang." Made up of 7 kids. "Same thing."
Male "Ya ain't very bright are ya?"
Slugger "Smack a few people across the face and all of a sudden, you get a shitty calling card for a name. I could be bat-man or the Homerun Striker. But nooooo, it just had to be Slugger. I don't even like baseball."
14 "I just said- You know what, just fuck off in that corner over there."
Face Claim
L'il Slugger - Paranoia Agent.


5'6 "Taller then most kids my age, ya."
130 "Meh, I do well for myself."
Lean "I play sports, run around, besides I ain't got time to grow fat."
Hair Color
Black "Shockin' right?"
Eye Color
A stab wound on the side of his stomach, a slash that runs up through his left forearm and third degree burn scarring that run up the whole of his back. "Did you know: getting stab hurts likes a bitch?"
Isaiah has a rather lop-sided smile, the sort of thing that can easily be taken as creepy or malicious but his face is more neutral then most, like a permanent poker face that helps mask most if not all emotions from showing up. "Great for Texas Hold'em and lying. You also forgot to tell 'em that I'm black."
Normal Clothing
A pair of good fitting jeans, and a long sleeved shirt of any kind. It depends on the weather. Sometimes, He'll wear a jacket, sometimes shorts, but he makes sure it's always different then his armor. He either goes out with a good pair of running shoes or his pair of black rollerblades (with the rollerblades, he wears a white helmet) and is always seen with a red and blue backpack and a black beanie.[b]
[b]Whenever Isaiah decides to go out as "Slugger", he'll normally wear a pair of cargo shorts (or cargo pants depending on the weather), a dark blue hoodie, the ever popular bent yellow baseball bat, likewise a pair of rollarblades painted yellow, a blue bandana he ties to his head to cover his mouth and nose, leaving just his eyes visible, and a black helmet.

As for protection, he now wears a helmet, knee pads and elbow pads under his clothes, and had stitched a series of thin metal sheets into his hoodie around vulnerable areas like his stomach, chest, back, and triceps, which makes for some great make-shift armor.
As for weapons, Slugger's most well-known weapon to the populace is a yellow bent baseball bat, rumored to be bent from the many heads he had smacked.
Actually, my brother was really pissed one day, so he took it and just whacked it against the wall, bending it in half." "Isiah also carries with himself, a black handled butterfly knife which he can open and close quickly with either of his hands, a couple of makeshift flash-bangs (A matchbox filled with match-heads and magnesium, taped together tightly with clear tape) that needs to hit the ground hard to make the "flash", a few homemade toxic-smelling smokebombs made up of ping-ping balls, and an explosive tennis ball. Also, he carries around a zippo lighter, just in case. At times, he may even improvise for weapons, given the materials around him or make something for special or important occasions. He may or may not carry a black rope bag although it depends on the task.


"He's consistently inconsistent with his diction. At times he can speak properly, enunciating every word correctly and the next moment he won't. "What ya tallkin' about?"

"His consistent swearing can wear a little thin at best, boring at worst, he likes to get a bit creative with it. "Why art thou such a gutless castrated fucking pansy, Timmy?"

"Lastly, Isaiah tends to repeat whatever he hears, a habit picked up when he was 7, sometimes mimicking the voice of the person and adding onto their words to ridicule them."

Dirty Fighting - "I'm sorry, you wan' a fair fight? Well, close your eyes and count twenty paces and I promise nothin' gonna crack your skull open." Biting, groan hits, eye gouges feigning surrender, headbutts, cheap shots are all fair game in fighting. Isaiah has had enough close calls and thee one thing that saved him every time was dirty fighting.

Rollarblader - "Can't catch me, now can ya, muddafucker?"
Arguably, his greatest asset as a villain. Rollarblades gives him much speed and maneuverability as an individual and at full speeds, he's most popularly known for his hit and run's with a bat, easily knocking people out when he get's the speed. It also helps that he's a damn good rollerblader, doing so for at least four years, he's able to stop on a dime, jump and land with ease and go down stairs. He knows most if not all the slopes uphill and downhill in the cement jungle that is Cormick City.

Amateur Voice Actor - "Excuse me good sir but you have expired blood on my shoes."
After 7 years of repeating what everyone says, he can mimic the voices of others, both male and female not to an amazing degree to fool a best friend but that of a co-worker. He doesn't even use his own voice when he is "Slugger" instead using the voice of generic thug #3.

Mechanic - "Now you see, the problem with this car is that brakes have been cut, tires been slashed, and the transmisssion plus engine are missing."
When Isaiah's older brother starting teaching him about cars when he was eight, Isaiah listened to him and now he knows all the tools and parts of a car. He needed to because Isaiah's brother ran a chop-shop and he was an assistant. He's just as qualified to fix a car as he is to sabotage one.

Street Smarts - "Hey, did you hear about that woman that went in a dark alley, alone, at midnight?" "Which one? The idiot or the idiot?"
There comes a few things you learn growing up in a shithole like Cormick City, especially in the inner city. For starters, not to do stupid things such as the aforementioned above. You learn how to make money in often illegal but very profitable ways. You learn to know who to trust (no-one but don't let anyone know), who to avoid like the plague and how to make contacts. You learn the best places for an ambush, learn how to hide both your emotions and your body, and how to improvise in the worst of situations.

Sewing – “We’ll see how’s laughing when you’re screaming for help after being stabbed and when ya can’t afford to go to da hospital.”
Helps for repairing clothes, and in extreme cases, pulling together skin.

Sign Language – Hey, me and Grandma, we gotta talk somehow.
He's fluent in American Sign Language (ASL)

Self-Reliance – Once again, Grandma. We been through a lot.”
Isaiah knows how to cook his own food, do his own laundry, and how to live by himself if need be.

| Money | Sports | Video Games | Cars | Cooking | Sewing | Skating | Coffee | Library | Rap | Country Music | Fruits | Vegetables |

| Candy | Guns | Idiots | Reporters | The Police | "Heroes" | "Villains" | Sweets | Fighting | Baseball | Christmas | Winter | Racists | Hip-Hop | The Asylum | Hospitals |

Hoplophobia - The fear of guns. Ironic? Yes. Crippling? Yes?

Oh man, does Slugger have a lot of weaknesses. "Hey!

Considering he doesn't have any formal training in hand-to-hand combat, a more trained combatant could easily take him down. Now that I think about it, slugger really isn't the stand up and fight kind of guy, considering it's incredibly easy to knock someone over when they're on rollarblades.
His fear of guns, really don't help in his capabilities in ranged combat, which are severely limited.
"Ya done explainin' mah weaknesses to my enemies?"


Under the Mask


Real Name
Isaiah Jones
Snarky, sarcastic, and downright rude. He’s often quite bluntly honest with his beliefs and opinions without a care for what other people think of him. Isaiah tries not to concern himself with the plight of others despite feeling otherwise disgust for both “Heroes” and “Villains” or as he likes to call them, freaks and monsters. "Freaks" would be those that don some sort of mask and typically look they're all part of "the gimp" from pulp fiction since they're just a new breed of crazy, it's typical for him to make fun of them when they aren't there or simply do all to avoid crossing their paths. "Monsters" are the crazy ones without the masks, your killers, rapists, pimps, and what have you. As by their name, it's easy to tell that Slugger doesn't think too highly of them. While he considers himself above both of them, he’s pleasant enough to be around when you get past the swearing. Isaiah jokes around and is the type to stand up for those he trusts in times of need and antagonistically argue with other people on seemingly pointless things.

Under his “Slugger” identity, he still considers himself better than “Heroes” and “Villains” (Freaks and Monsters) and while gladly trash-talking the heroes, he’s smart enough not to trash talk any so called villains, considering they’d probably live in the same area as he does. He is more controlled under Slugger, considering he has other people in his gang, kids like himself, following his orders.

Regardless of being “Slugger” or Isaiah, he carries himself he carries himself with an air of intelligence not regularly found in street thugs and an air of respect for what he does.

Jonah Desatra - Father – Unknown “Hopefully, he’s dead.”
Robbie Jones - Brother, older - Dead
Claire Jones - Mother – Residing in Cormick Asylum for the Mentally Insane
Devona Jones – Grandmother – Alive, Deaf

Isaiah was born into the life he lives now. His mother and brother were running a chop-shop in the back of a garage and living in an average-sized apartment within the innercity with his grandmother. He was taught sign language when he was old enough to speak so that he could talk with his deaf grandmother. His father was never in the scene, abandoning the family while Isaiah was still a baby.

When Isaiah was eight, his brother Robbie started to teach him about cars and the year earlier, he had started rollerblading. All was relatively well until he turned 11, when his mother’s pills for her schizophrenia, slowly dwindling in potency to the point of ineffectiveness. Isaiah and Robbie would have done something had they known she was taking medicine at all and while Devona tried to do something she was too late. Claire’s paranoia and auditory hallucinations grew to immense levels as one day she set the chop-shop on fire, Isaiah suffering third-degree burns when the fire caught on to the gas splattered on the back of his shirt, hospitalized for about three months before being released.

There was a big stint in the media over it, a trial that ruled in favour to the defence’s plea of insanity and sentenced Claire Jones to ten years in Cormick Mental Asylum, caused some protests and conflict with reporters.

After being released from the hospital, Isaiah, his brother and her grandmother had to move to an even seedier part of the city, unable to pay the mortgage for their original apartment along with Isaiah’s medical expenses instead paying rent and medical expenses. Somehow, Robbie’s new line of work, something he never opened up about, managed to pay for it all. Isaiah couldn’t figure out what line of illegal work he did and although he suspected it was something along the line of drugs. Everyone did their share, Isaiah worked with a gang as a messenger and courier, and Grandma Devona cashed in all of the disability checks she’ve saved over the years. Eventually, most of the bills got paid, and things became normal for a while.

Then a year ago, Robbie put a gun to his mouth, and pulled the trigger.

At this point, Isaiah had to take up a more pro-active role in the gang. Hits. Not murders specifically but more like a series of violent messages given to various people. Isaiah wore the aforementioned “Slugger” attire during this time and he was immortalized as such during a blurry video and a headline in the newspaper.

All the media attention of “Slugger” really just made it easier to be feared and get the following he now has, a gang of children round his own age, who know nothing of Isaiah but everything of Slugger. They did nothing much besides maybe rob a few stores, mug a few people, steal a few cars, even stripping cars completely overnight.

Of course, Slugger never truly left his original gang, whom he barely converses with. He still might get orders and jobs from those he barely knows, for hit and runs, stealing something specific, dropping off a package, or sending a violent message to someone.
He gets paid, all the same except now all these goddamn "heroes" are making it difficult to even keep up with the rent.

Corn Maze.


So begins...

Isaiah Jones "Slugger"'s Story


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Isaiah Jones "Slugger" Character Portrait: John Clarke "The Captain"
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#, as written by Deallo
And now The Captain stood ever so valiantly alongside his fellow soldiers behind the red, white, blue background of America, sporting Hitler 'staches and crudely drawn dicks on their cheeks.

"There we go, Captain Asshole." Isaiah thought to himself as he put the cap back on the permanent marker, appreciating the work of art that is ruined propaganda, for a moment before turning round, skating alongside the sidewalk. After having played a good game of soccer, he was heading home to do two things: catch up on homework from his first year of high school and to plan something, anything, to pay the rent.

The streets were too fucking dangerous at night to work with. Especially the lunatics with gimp suits and a moral high-horse suddenly come on by everyone's business and end up slicing, smashing, or god-forbid, shooting people just trying to get by, alongside with all the unsavory monsters.

Isaiah had heard of most all the freaks except the ones that may spring up that very night and there was an emotion, not something that he could place, a mixture of anger, ridicule or fear that sprang up whenever he thought of them. Slugger always made sure to stay clear of them, to hide from their presence when they were there, and run from them when they came to screw up his plans with only a fleeting glance. The newest addition, "Silver Assassin" otherwise known as Monster was the one he wanted to avoid like the plague for the plain simple fact she carries an assault rifle and keeps a very high kill count. It almost matched up to the other masked freak, Nightingale, who might as well be called Killy Mckilliton for all the "good" he did.

By far, however, the one that both Slugger and Isaiah hated the most was no doubt Captain Asshole.

It's hard to put into words, a hate that could skin demons, from such a figure. Where it came from, Isaiah doesn't know for sure if it's his image, the way he represents himself, those stupid posters he somehow hangs every block or so despite the fact that Slugger keeps defacing them and pulling them down, or maybe his arrogance.
The Captain's insistence that everything can be neatly sorted into good and evil, that he is good and everyone against him, including Isaiah were bad. There was something truly wrong when some random stranger has to come along, make himself something to be looked up to, and say, nay, live something so idiotic.

The one that Slugger would have to say he hates the least would be Razor, or Blade, or whatever the hell he/(she)? calls himself. Of course saying he was the least hated was much like saying he was the shiniest of all the turds, sure, the shiniest, but a turd none the less.

The kid shook his head to clear the thoughts, the cool air of the weather hitting his face, glad he took the time to wear a long-sleeved shirt with his hands down the pocket of his jeans. They were going to need him and the boys tonight if that deal on the docks were true and it'll pay well if everything goes according to plan.

Isaiah could hear the ever too familiar sound of a certain Harley-Davidson pull up on the road and as he looked, there was, the motherfucking Captain himself.
"Just don't look at him. Keep going till you reach home." He mentally told himself as he was to do exactly that.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Isaiah Jones "Slugger" Character Portrait: John Clarke "The Captain"
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The sun was beginning to drop over the horizon, the canopy of concrete and steel began to obscure that golden orb in the sky and bring the first of nights shadows across the city. As the cities inhabitants seeked the refuge and relative safety of their homes the beasts came out to play. The thugs and killers, rapists and psychos impatiently watched their hunting ground darken for they knew the time for their wicked game was about to begin. The husband and wife, brother and sister, friend and lover knew to fear the night. It was with night that came all the evils of man. With night came all the dangers that the darkness brought. The knife in the shadow, the gun in the strangers pocket, the men following you on your walk home.

Times were changing however, despite how much those fiends wished thing would stay the same because the people of this great city were beginning to gain a weapon more powerful than anything those beasts could ever imagine. That weapon was hope, pure and simple. Hope born from the deeds of remarkable individuals. Born from brave men and women who sacrificed of themselves for others. People, heroes who put their own lives on the line without a second thought to protect the weak. Among them was none more self sacrificing, none more courageous or bold than the man who shined the light of liberty in the darkness. As he moved throughout the city the familiar sound of his motorcycle reached the ears of the citizens of Cormick. Those who looked on him, young and old, man and woman all smiled as the hope he brought touched their heart for they knew they were just a little bit safer because he was there. The Captain was there and he would always be there as long as they needed him.

The Captain pulled up to a traffic light, his Harley rumbling in the failing light of the sun and as he looked up at the sun as it retired for the evening he knew that his work was just beginning. He tensed his jaw and revved the engine as he prepared to take off down the street and head for the docks but something caught his eye. A young man, a child no more than twelve or thirteen walking alone down the sidewalk. The boy was wearing a long sleeve shirt and a baseball cap with his hands sullenly in his jean pockets. John arched an eyebrow as he looked at the boy.

"Hey.... Better run along home, son. It's getting late."

With that The Captain sped off down the street heading for the docks. He needed to get into position before the drug dealers showed. He'd need to recon the area and assess the battlefield effectiveness of a showdown at the docks before he engaged the enemy. He'd need to get eyes on target and see just how many people he'd have to take down tonight. First he'd need to park the bike far enough from the docks where the roar of the engine wouldn't be heard and then go on from foot.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ryan Lee Watson "Hidden Ace" Character Portrait: Isaiah Jones "Slugger" Character Portrait: Death Sigil
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#, as written by Deallo
Isaiah stopped in place as Captain exchanged his completely meaningless greeting, looking at the floor while he clamped his teeth together to shut himself up as the so-called "Hero" rode away.

"I ain't your son, bitch." He growled to the spot where he stopped at the light before continuing on his way home, stuck in all too sour mood, suddenly thinking about ways to exact revenge on the A-class hero.
"Maybe, if I do something about that motorcycle of his. Take the engine apart, strip it apart, sell the valuable bits, and leave the shitty body for him to discover. Better yet, why not sabotage it?" The boy felt excited just thinking about it.
"Get rid of the brakes...I'd need some allen keys, a torque wrench, maybe a flat-head...wait a second, fuck it. Just cut the line to the breaks and voila! Crash n' crush da neck."

Isaiah felt proud of himself for thinking about it, his fingers caressing the butterfly knife held securely in his pocket, his thoughts now turning up at the man's presence as yeah it was late but far too early for any of the masked freaks to be showing up any-time too soon. That's the direction towards the dock. It seemed likely that if he knew about the big thing happening at the docks then so did other so called "heroes" themselves.

Wait. What if they were calling in other self-proclaimed or naturally inclined villainous freaks into the picture? As much as Slugger hated the "heroes" the town's villains, a name that you'd really have to work especially in a shithole like Cormick City, were just downright unpredictable and as dangerous as the villains. The sick macabre killings of The Painter for whom it sickens the kid to think of that one time he stumbled across his "art", the ever-so-crazed silent yet deadly woman, Silver Cut, bringing gender diversity to serial killers, and worst of all Reaper. The man who distilled his crazy, put it in a bottle and made it to that colourful mess of a costume. Oh boy, did that man wear his crazy inside and out. Whoever the fuck he was, he had connections because no-one, absolutely no-one, can be that insane and have the gang, the protection and immunity, that he does.

While on the way home, the boy saw one of the popular senior kids from his school, walking home with either a junior or hopefully his sister. Isaiah looked at him as if to acknowledge his presence before keeping his eyes forward, his peripheral vision still focused on him until he passed.

As soon as he got into his apartment, up a couple stairs, and into his home, he checked up on her grandmother, busy typing away at a keyboard before looking at the door to find her grandson.

How was school? She signed at him. He smiled before signing back.

Alright. I have some math to finish up and I'm going out afterwards. To be frank, he really didn't need to sign, but he liked it. Having this secret language most people don't know and speaking in it made him excited. Better.

Go on. Do what you have to do.

Grandma always said that when she didn't want to talk anymore and continued typing away. She always kept typing and typing and she had stacks of pages of typed material. Scattered stories of fiction and non-fiction that she hated Isaiah to see.

The rest was fairly routine. Cook up some vegetables and fruits with a bit of ground beef before it spoils, eat it, do some homework, and check the second cell-phone for any missed calls from gang leaders and drug leaders. Nothing but a text.
"scout, distract, and report back."

That meant the deal was was still going on. Good. Isaiah thought what "distract" meant until he figured it out for himself. Keep them busy. It had to be some sort of terrible joke. He was a hit and runner guy, not a stand-up fighter or enforcer, but that didn't really matter.

It was almost time. Not for the midnight drug deal on the docks but for the get together with the gang again. They needed this to work out because last time, robbing the convenience store when the owner had a shotgun under the counter, nearly blowing off the head of one of the kids, does a lot to pull morale down. Isaiah walked out of his apartment in the night, his armoured hoodie on, cargo pants worn, black helmet on, and most of the weapons concealed, a needle and string on hand just in case, and a small bottle of vodka alongside an oily rag if it shall come to that...still relatively unknown to be Slugger until he walked in an alley nearby and took the dufflebag that was hidden behind the dumpster.

Inside were his yellow rollarblades and his iconic, almost signature bat and within two minutes, a blue bandana around his mouth, he became just that.

"Help! Help me!" One of many unanswered calls for help pierced the air as a young woman was being pinned by a strong monster of a man up against the wall. This scene was common.
"You'll like it. They all do." The sound of a zipper made it's way to her ears and she screamed even louder before having her voice silenced by the flat of his palm. It ended mostly the same way, every time.
He was obviously distracted, not to notice the rolling sound that came down the alley which was just a slant downhill, and a flash of yellow struck the man right in the head in a speed so quick, it took the girl moments before she can realize what just happened, looking over to the figure that stopped suddenly before slowly riding back to look at the body. The yellow rollerblades and the likewise yellow bat bent over the heads it has smacked.

"You're a fucking idiot, ya know that?" Slugger spoke, in the voice that was Slugger's, the 25 year old short black male.
"This is an alley in the middle of the goddamned night. Don't you see the news you son of a bitch or were you born stupid? Nothing good ever come from an alley. Ain't no parties or surprises. Just rape and murder. Now get your ass out of here before I live up to the expectations of the alley."

The girl was of course scared as Slugger swung around his bat while she talked and when she got the cue she bolted. He was always proud to take down a monster as it made for good swinging experience and it game him a chance to warm up his voice with empty but convincing threats. Poor girl. To be rescued from a monster only to be saved from a freak. Slugger glanced at the downed man, out cold, and his genitals exposed to the night air.
"Well, no wonder you're hiding in an alley expecting action." He said poignantly to the unconscious man before moving on to an area, not at the docks per se, but close enough to see the likewise 50 or so men gathered there along with no-one's favorite mad-man. He had no need to visit the docks, he knew the area when he inspected it the couple of days before.

While he waited, his child gang started to assemble on the spot that was chosen, on rollarblades as well and in dark clothing. They had their throw away weapons and blades to keep them safe.
When all seven of the people gathered, Slugger found it fit to start speaking, and did they listen for they looked up to the man.
"Here's what's gonna happen. We split up into four groups of two and I want everyone to scout ahead. You see the police or one of 'em freaks coming over, you contact me and tell me where they are and what intersection. Don't fucking attack them, touch them, breath on them, just follow them. If they notice you, skate your shit away."
Everyone nodded.
"Carlo, you're staying with me. Stay back and in the shadows. If I get into any trouble, I'll be counting on you to help me out as I'll do for you. Remember, you're all my brothers and sisters. If we do this right, we get paid, big-time."


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Luna Hunter 'Silver Assassin' Character Portrait: Elliot Freling "The Nightengale" Character Portrait: Isaiah Jones "Slugger" Character Portrait: John Clarke "The Captain" Character Portrait: Death Sigil
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Just over fifty men in total. This was the armed force for the evening. Snipers posted on the roof provided cover for the ground team. The bulk of the guards were sporting shotguns, automatic small arms and pistols, your standard load out for well supplied criminal enterprises. Recon of the area noted several speed boats nearby, no doubt intended for a hasty getaway should that be required. It didn't take long for The Captain to sneak down to the pier and disable the two guards near the boats silently before he jerry rigged the boats with a few grenades. With the detonator in his pocket he could detonate them at any time.

So he moved back to surveillance, he caught sight of a few kids skating around on roller blades. For a brief second he mistook them for playful children out too late but he'd heard of this gang before. Hardly able to call them that, more like kids with a bad streak in them. John felt bad for the kids, for whatever reason drove them to crime to ruin their lives so early when they have their whole lives ahead of them was a shame. Regardless he had a job to do and if they tried to intervene tonight would be the night they would learn what crime got them.

The Captain was almost ready to move in, he was going to sneak in through the roof and start with the snipers when he caught something he did not expect. Two individuals arrive don the scene, stopping on one of the nearby rooftops overlooking the docks. One he recognized as the masked vigilante The Nightengale, the other was a complete mystery to him. A woman with long silver hair with a large sniper rifle, the make and model of which Cap couldn't identify at this range. He watched as the two spoke for a brief moment before The Nightengale leapt off the rood effortlessly and the woman got into position, taking careful aim at the snipers on the roof. John added this new development into his tactical appraisal before altering his plan of attack.

He no longer need to start on the roof and deal with the snipers nest since there was already a counter sniper in place. From what little he knew of how Nightngale worked he was a shadow fighter, not a stand up soldier. Fortunately that served The Captain perfectly. He could operate as The Nightengale's equal and opposite. One fighting from the shadows with lightning fast attacks, the other shooting right down the line and bringing the fight to the enemy. Between the two of them drug dealers muscle stood little chance. Especially with the safety net of a sniper posted just outside.

Satisfied with his current plan The Captain moved in. Carefully sneaking around the back via the rooftops of the surrounding structures he scouted for the best entry point. An unused fire escape and accompanying window would work well. Cap judged the gap he would have to jump with a readying breath. These aerial leaps were not necessarily his forte but the supreme condition of his body did allow him to be surprisingly agile for a man his size. He sprinted forward, shield strapped to his back and leapt out into the night air. His gloved hand reached out and found cold metal. He gripped the last rung of the fire escape landing and pulled himself up.

Once on top of the metal set of stairs he looked down at the drop he almost took with a shake of the head. At least four stories, that would've ended his night early. Cap turned back to the mission and began to ascend the fire escape, carefully not to go stomping up the metal ladder and alert any guards. He reached the window in under a minute and slipped in, dropping to the floor quietly. He could hear voices in the distance, the thugs causally talking amongst themselves from all over the warehouse.

Cap did a quick scan of his immediate surroundings as he took cover behind some crates and readied his shield. He had no idea where Nightegale was but he didn't want to spoil the vigilante's element of surprise so he held position and waited. He'd let the shadow fighter strike first before he moved in. The heroes would pin the enemy between the dagger and shield, leaving them nowhere to run.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Luna Hunter 'Silver Assassin' Character Portrait: Lilith Hale "Shade" Character Portrait: Isaiah Jones "Slugger" Character Portrait: Annabeth Collins Character Portrait: John Clarke "The Captain" Character Portrait: Death Sigil
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Tim sat on a crate while the deal was commencing very slowly. He opened his eyes, "and let the games begin." A gun shot rang out. The mobsters looked clearly surprised, but the imfamous Death just cracked a smile. Most of the guards outside would be dead by now. The lights short circuited making the room fall into blackness. Tim was surprised how prepared these 'heroes' were. He excepted the situation as it was. "Men prepare to go nocturnal!" He popped open the crate that he was sitting on inside there was a barrier made especially for this kind of situation. Inside there was ten pairs of night vision goggles he put on his own pair and lead the men to the goggles. He searched the area well aware that only about half of them had goggles. He pulled out his katana and his pistol, it had nine bullets. "Those who can't see are useless now!" He lunged his sword into the eye of the nearest 'blind man'. He cocked the 1911 and unloaded the nine bullets into the faces of those who couldn't see, only of his own men the rest would have to fend for them selves. He shouted out to the invisible 'heroes hiding in the dark'. "Eleven versus the several of you, can you rise to the challenge? Or will you be another to fall by my hand?" He spoke to all heroes and villains alike, for the games had begun.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Luna Hunter 'Silver Assassin' Character Portrait: Isaiah Jones "Slugger" Character Portrait: Annabeth Collins Character Portrait: John Clarke "The Captain" Character Portrait: Death Sigil
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#, as written by Deallo
Slugger did his routes around the dock, phone vibrating several times, snippets of information slipping in his eyes and ears from his scouts.

Cap was out in the dockyard, from a couple of boats suspiciously enough, before he ran into a warehouse. A scout saw some freak with a top-hat, either The Painter or some fancy fucker, sneaking in as well.

Then, it was the goddamn Nightingale.

"I don't know, he just put something on the box at the side of the building."

"The box?" Slugger said with the cell by his face, heading turning left and right for any soul in sight. The kid, Jack, must've meant the breaker for the building. Looks like Killy Mckillington was going to blow the lights, though how, it was unsure.
"As soon as he's far enough, try to get the 'something' off, right, Jack?"
"Got it boss. And there's some silver-haired chick with a gas mask..."
"Monster." The newest so-called "Hero" to date. "Stay the fuck away from her as well. You and George follow my orders, alright?"

With a click of the phone, he had continued his route, suddenly hearing the roar of a motorcycle before ducking into the opposite alley to hide in the darkness. The gunshots have been causing him to jump and twitch throughout the night as if he'd been the one getting shot but he managed to stand completely still in the dark for the moment to be stealthy. The engine stalled before the ignition was turned off and a "Hero" emerged from the alley. You could always tell because unless there was a dungeon in Cormick City that advertised half price admission for guests with black jumpsuits and masks it was always a hero.

Now, instead of just catching up to him and smacking him across the face right there, Slugger had a better idea. Ducking into the alley the motorcycle was parked in, finding it behind a dumpster, Isaiah smirked as he pulled the butterfly knife from his pocket and flipped the blade up with a practiced skill.
"What are you doing?" Carlos called from behind in a whisper, watching with intrigue and curiosity. "Are you gonna make it explode? Take it apart and sell it? Key it?"
"Keying? I thought I taught you better then that." He said, almost disappointingly as his knife got to work.
"Besides, I ain't got the tools with me for the other stuff, no siree. I'm just gonna cut the brakes, to see how far our little hero could go before crashin' his dumb-ass all over the pavement." If you really wanted to know how stupidly easy it was to cut the brakes on both wheels for such a fancy new ride, look at the brake pads then follow the brake lines. These things are made of hard rubber and stupidly easy to cut.

Half way between cutting the back brakes, the lights around the whole dock, and a couple of blocks, blacked out.
"Those fucking bastards cut out the lights. Smart. Carlo, call up the others if they're ok." Slugger commanded as he cut the last brake, skating out of the alley and back into the front of the docks, his eyes focused on his gang that for some reason assembled together without his command.
"The fuck are those idiots doing?" Slugger said to no-one in particular as he slowly approached them, only then just realizing the copius amounts of dead bodies and blood lying around the area, carefully avoiding them as his skates were stained with blood of the spaces in between as he got closer.
"Guys, what're you doing?" He said to them once he got closer, realizing that they were frozen in place, and their eyes were fixed on something on the ground, one of the kids raising an arm and pointing to it.
"Jack and George aren't picking up."
"Well then, fucking call again." He said it again before turning to his gang.
"Look, I know this looks bad but as long as we keep our distance from these assholes, we should be-"


"For fuck's sake who's-"
But then he stopped. The ringing wasn't coming off any of them. Slowly, he turned his head, his shoulders feeling as heavy as the fucking world could make it when he saw their bodies. Slugger used his phone as a light, from their rollarblades up. George had blood all over him, covering his every piece of clothing, neck freshly stabbed.
Jack was the exact same thing except by the time they reached his neck, there was no head attached, they only knew it was him by the skates he wore by his feet. Slugger hardly noticed most if not everyone running away behind him as he stood, absolutely dumbstruck, his every thought silenced and his soul blank.
"If you want to go Carlos. Just go." He said ever-so solemnly, still keeping the Slugger voice for the sake of reputation, to that one kid still there.
"What're you going to do?"

Slugger looked at him, his eyes full of sorrow yet void of tears, his brother taught him early on in life to never cry and to never let anyone see you cry. Instead, rage started to fill his veins like lava as he remembered Jack's last phone call. Nightingale and The Monster.

"I'm going to kill those fuckers." For when he turned around, blading towards the docks, this was true. Slugger didn't care about the money now, didn't care about self-preservation or safety, all he wanted to do now was to splatter their brains across the pavement for the murder of his dear friends.

He slipped in the back of the warehouse, staying in the shadows and watching for bodies not to fall over. Slugger got close enough to see the shape and sound everyone's favorite Mad Jester open the case they've been standing on and wearing what Slugger could only believe are night-vision goggles like the movies since he said to "go nocturnal." Just as the kid took cover behind a closer wall, he could hear those nine shots of the gun, and shook every time he heard it go off, hyperventilating near the end as Death Sigil challenged everyone in the room.
Slugger opened a flap in his pocket and took out his home-made flash-bang while keeping the cold metal bat on his face to calm him down for a couple of seconds before he got out of cover and whipped the flashbang at their group, closing his eyes and turning away to protect himself form the flash.

Apparently, while wearing night-vision goggles, flashbangs could really hurt the eyes even more so. It's the only conclusion Slugger could make as Death Sigil's gang were clutching their faces, shouting "Arghh My Eyes!" to the flash their goggles ever so amplified painfully. The kid rollarbladed to the crate, clutching a pair and quickly snapping it to his head, left hand frantically running over the sides until he found the on button. The green vision gave the kid more depth and he skated away, turning the corner and out of their field of vision, speeding through the warehouse at high speeds dodging a spinning fire disk from the window by ducking his head and blocking all bounds of logic from questioning it as he searched for the people responsible for killing his friends. His heart was beating like mad over the maneuver he had just done, partly in disbelief and relief, but he had to forget such things as he spotted both Captain Asshole and some other chick/hero. She didn't much the description of The Monster but if he had simply let them go, they were going to follow him.

In a flash, Slugger passed the two, and a rather sharp click of the pin leaving one of the grenades around the Captain's waist and around the middle finger of Slugger's left hand. If the warhouse wasn't dark and slowly going up in flames, he would have turned around, and flipped the middle finger for good measure but he had a mission.

Then he saw her. The Monster, in her gas mask and all. Slugger sped up as much as he could and just when the distance was right, he dipped the bent metal bat back, gripped it tightly with two hands and swung with both the strength his arms could muster and the speed he traveled, ready to strike a homerun with The Monster's head as the ball.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Luna Hunter 'Silver Assassin' Character Portrait: Isaiah Jones "Slugger" Character Portrait: Annabeth Collins Character Portrait: John Clarke "The Captain" Character Portrait: Death Sigil
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Silver through on she night goggles and stayed on the side, if anyone needed help she would be there in a flash. But out of the side of her eye she saw a person speeding towards her, metal bat in hand and looking as if he wanted to knock her head off. But Silver was faster. She was always faster. She quickly ducked, dodging the blow and the person voomed right past her, but not before getting a swift kick in the stomach. Using her wire she flung in at the man, if wrapped tightly around his ankles, tying them together. Silver pulled hard making the person trip and smack their head on the ground and she took out her knife. The electrical waves were so strong you could see it bouncing on the blade as she pounced on the body, kicked the bat away and pinned down his legs and arms. She hovered the blade close to his neck but stopped.

"Your only a kid" she whispered more to herself then to the boy. Then Silver glanced at his hands and her eyes widened.
"Fuck!" she growled, seeing the grenade pin.
"Are you stupid or something? get out of here before you get hurt!" Silver snarled leaving the boy. Silver then rushed into action, swiftly running towards the only person she knew would have grenades. The Captain.

She could now she him and some girl but Silver just focused in on Cap's belt.
'There!' she thought once she saw the pulled grenade.
"Excuss me Cap but I'm going to need this" Silver said as she grabbed the grenade from him and ran out of the warehouse. She rushed over to the docks. Throwing the grenade into one of the speed boats Silver was thankful the keys were in it as she started it up and put it into gear. The boat raced off towards the open water and only a few moments later the grenade set off.

"Well if that wasnt movie worthy i dont know what is" Silver giggled to herself. She then rushed back into the warehouse.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Luna Hunter 'Silver Assassin' Character Portrait: Lilith Hale "Shade" Character Portrait: Elliot Freling "The Nightengale" Character Portrait: Isaiah Jones "Slugger" Character Portrait: Annabeth Collins Character Portrait: John Clarke "The Captain"
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Before the young woman could answer the two heroes were bathed in darkness as the power to the warehouse was cut. Cap instinctively turned around, scanning the darkness with eyes not yet adjusted to the absence of light. This wasn't good, whoever had killed the lights obviously was attempting to use the darkness to mask their movements. Night fighting was dangerous in the best of times but with so many highly trained individuals running around it was a recipe for disaster. He stepped closer to the young woman protectively, one hand on her shoulder.

"Stay close to me."

He warned as he tensed his jaw, waiting impatiently for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Then the familiar bangs of grenades. The sound and resulting boom's didn't not have the crack that fragmentation grenades did nor the screams of wounded men that always accompanied it. The hissing he heard in the distance tipped the expierenced military man of their nature. "Smoke grenades... interesting" John thought to himself, wondering of the tactical significance of using smoke grenades in an already visually obscured battleground. Smoke grenades typically were used to mask movement through enemy territory or as signal flares when coupled with brightly colored dyes. In an urban setting like this they would serve well to mask someone's movements through enemy ranks but when they were already stumbling around in the darkness the only benefit they would be would be is the irratation they caused to the throat and eyes.

Before The Captain could consider this any further his patience was rewarded and then immediately betrayed. He had wanted light and he got it in the form of wild flame. Someone had tossed lit gasoline into the warehouse followed by a molotov cocktail.

"We have to move, now!"

Cap shouted as the warehouse became even more chaotic. He ushered the woman along with him, all the while using his own body and shield as a protective barrier from any of the dangers in the darkness and flame. The two raced out of the warehouse but were quickly halted as Cap skidded to a stop. He felt a sudden gust of wind and could've sworn someone had touched him. With a clenched fist ready to defend the girl with his life he scanned the maddeneing darkness for the unseen presence. What he found was the silver haired sniper that was supposed to be posted outside. She snatched one of the grenades off his belt and hurled it without pulling the pin. Cap was about to inform her that the grenade pin would need to be pulled before it could be detonated. As if to answer for her the grenade promptly exploded in the speed boat that it landed in. John stared in shock for a moment before reaching down to his belt. That's what he had felt! The bastard had pulled the pin off his grenade. They couldve both died right there.

"Well if that wasnt movie worthy I dont know what is"

The sniper giggled before racing off back into the warehouse. Cap stared after her in awe before voicing his thoughts.

"That woman just saved both of our lives, I'm going to have to shake her hand when this is done."

He spoke proudly with respect and gratitude in his voice. With that Cap turned to the young woman and gave her a firm nod.

"Let's get out of this building before it comes down."

That said Cap lead the young woman safely out of the burning warehouse and out into the night air. Clear of the hazordous smoke and fire Cap happened to catch the makings of a fight on the opposing rooftop. From this distance he was having trouble making out both combatants but one he was deffinately able to identify.


Never taken his eyes off his fellow hero Cap spoke to the young woman beside him.

"You going to be ok here miss? I'm not too keen on letting good men fight alone."

Cap said daringly, ready to take off and ascend the building to help the shadowy vigilante.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Luna Hunter 'Silver Assassin' Character Portrait: Lilith Hale "Shade" Character Portrait: Everett Rudolph "Razor Blade" Character Portrait: Elliot Freling "The Nightengale" Character Portrait: Isaiah Jones "Slugger" Character Portrait: Annabeth Collins
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Shortly after he had his goggles on, he saw a flash of light and searing pain. He ripped the device off of his face replacing it with his mask once again. It took about a minute for his eyes to fully recover, thankfully he had been wearing his contact lenses. The the green of the lense had absorbed a lot of the light since the light produced by the goggles is mostly green. A mere lucky coincidence he simply wore them because he liked the color green and neon eyes made him look other worldly. He still had a migraine headache so he struggled to regain his bearing all of his men had fainted from the severe pain. Setback after setback, the men who came here on business were huddled in the office of the warehouse. He opened the door and suggested that they should fight should they not wish to die. He didn't have to tell them twice, he tapped into his years of training in the dark. Closing his eyes and focusing on his hearing and sixth sence. He heard some commotion from a building near his current, he reached into a crate and pulled out two moltovs. This outta be fun, guess this will be more challenging than expected. He silently made his way to the un expecting heroes. He saw the man who proclaimed himself a captain and some masked girl who he did only recongnize. Then he heard an explosion and saw a silver haired girl with some mask on, three heroes huh? This would be impossible for anyone else, more of a challenge for Tim. The two moltovs will deal with them nicely, then I can wait for the girl to come to inspect their copses I can decapitate her then. But once again he heard more noises from the roof top this time. So how many have crashed this little party of mine? His matto was that it wasn't a party until at least twenty died, well it wasn't until now. He climbed up on the roof, he observed as the shadow and the birdie, as he called them,locked in fierce combat. "Wow I am honored to be in the company of the Nightengale but the shade as well, so glad yo two could make it to my little get together. I am slightly disappointed that cat girl or ace didn't show but I'll get over it. So who should I play with first?" He cackled sadisticly drawing his katana glancing at the gleaming steel. He pointed the blade between them, he closed his eyes. "Einnie minne miny mow..."


Characters Present

Character Portrait: [NPC] Bartender Character Portrait: Luna Hunter 'Silver Assassin' Character Portrait: Lilith Hale "Shade" Character Portrait: Everett Rudolph "Razor Blade" Character Portrait: Elliot Freling "The Nightengale" Character Portrait: Isaiah Jones "Slugger"
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"Shade darling to be a good little girl and go make the captain feel at home, he is so alone you see." He waved of the girl without a second glance, he had a bone to pick with the Nightingale. "I have to say you do like shaking up the pot don't you...and killing. It seems we have a problem my thing is that I'm crazy as fuck and everyone fears me, but it's as if you are trying to outdo me. A man has to ask himself when does justice turn into crime." He randomly swiped at the air with one hand on his sword sloppily and jokingly. He knew to respect his weapon, or at least Tim did. "How about this no guns this rounds, you seem to be knightly enough. Death sigil tossed the English hand-and-a-half sword his way turning his back to his opponent briefly. He collected himself he called upon his knowledge and skill. While Krav Maga is a death art JSA is equally so especially for one who started at age ten. It would be a snap to kill an unarmed opponent but his sensei had ingrained respect into his pupil. He bowed at his opponent, and began an advanced kato from a unique style. Word on the street was that he nightingale knew how to use a sword to so a common kato could be read easily. "Mind if I clip your wings little birdie?" He let loose an insane laugh as the heat rippled the air around them and the warehouse below them began to slowly give way. This would be a great little exercise.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Luna Hunter 'Silver Assassin' Character Portrait: Lilith Hale "Shade" Character Portrait: Everett Rudolph "Razor Blade" Character Portrait: Elliot Freling "The Nightengale" Character Portrait: Isaiah Jones "Slugger" Character Portrait: Annabeth Collins
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Cap's attacks were savage and somewhat predicable, Tim held him self together mentally and physically. He took the brunt of his knee, though the armor helped lessen the sting as well as let Tim recover fast enough to dodge the right hook. He slipped in between the Captain and his shield. He grabbed his wrist and twisted kicking the shield out of the mans grasp. Before he could react Death Sigil put two hands on his adversaries hulking shoulders. He boosted himself up and wrapped his legs around his opponents torso. He then twisted himself so that he was latched to the captain's back from their he had a front row seat to the weakest part of the body. He rapidly stroke him with furious punches to the base of the neck, right about where the brain stem starts. He then grabbed the captain's shoulders boosting himself until he was standing on the man's shoulders. "And now the kill shot!" Though it didn't sound as cool with a broken jaw. He jumped a feet off of his shoulders and sucked his legs together, seconds from landing on his head...
(Do remember that he has taken many strikes to the neck ouch, making him dizzy! And not on top of things! But with a broken jaw can he really pull this off? Plus there is those pesky heroes wanting to help, plus where the heck is ace and Electra?)