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Joseph Wright

"There was many a time I wished for something different, something more."

0 · 251 views · located in Atlas City

a character in “Hadean”, as played by DarKnight36



Theme 1 – Actaeon
Theme 2 – Stop Swimming
Theme 3 – Ghost Prototype II - Deus Ex Machina


Full Name: Joseph Wright
Alias: Wrath
Age: 18
Gender: Male
Ethnicity: Asian-Hispanic (American)

Hair: Black

Eye color: Grey

Body: Slim

Height: 5'6"

Weight: 140 lbs.

Hometown: Crescent City, California

Affiliation(s): N/A

Personality: Seems cold and calm, but prone to explosive bouts of anger. Has something of a god complex.

- Being right

- Power

- Coffee cake

- Himself

- Milk

- His father

- Being afraid

- Himself

- Being alone

- Pain

- Death

- Cooking

- Writing, especially fiction

- Ping pong

- Sketching / drawing, mostly with pencil

Costume Identities:

Wrath has been seen in different armor and outfits, but most commonly it takes the form of a jacket over multiple layers of lightweight plate armor, similar to pictures you'd see of samurai.

Wrath has a taste for oni masks. They change color based on his mood, and may emit steam or flame. This one depicted is a common example.


Wrath most often uses guns, but can and will summon swords or other bladed weaponry.



[The following transcript is an excerpt from the interview with Joseph Wright (dubbed JW) on the night of his parents' murder, August 4 2042. Agents {redacted} (dubbed A1) and {redacted} (dubbed A2) were sent to question JW about his parents' deaths. This is provided in the hopes it will provide insight into JW's psyche and motivations, as well as his potential powers.]

[A1 & A2 enter the room.]

A1: Good evening Joseph.

JW: Who are you?

A1: I'm Agent {redacted} and this is Agent {redacted}.

A2: Pleasure.

A1: We're here to ask you some questions about your parents.

JW: I already told the police everything I know.

A1: This must be hard for you. But...

A2: We think you may have something else to say.

JW: Is that why I'm still in handcuffs?

A1: Put simply, son, yes. The good policemen here are a little nervous. The handcuffs help them feel a little more secure.

JW: I didn't kill my parents.

A2: We believe you, Joseph. We just need you to go over what happened one more time.

JW: Fine. I woke up to a scream from downstairs. It sounded like my mom. At first I thought my dad was just drunk again, but then I heard him screaming too. When I went downstairs to see what had happened, I found them both... dead.

A1: I know this must be hard, son. Can you describe what they looked like?

JW: They were in pieces, is that you want to hear? They were cut into pieces.

A2: Calm down, Joseph. It's all right to be shaken up about that.

JW: I didn't see who did it. I didn't hear or see anything else besides that.

A1: All right, Joseph, all right. Let's go back a bit. You said you thought your dad was 'just drunk', is that right?

JW: Yes.

A1: Can you elaborate? Was your dad abusive?

JW: That's one way of putting it.

A2: We're just trying to help put the story together, Joseph. My own father used to hit me when I was younger. Is that what happened with you?


A1: It's all right, son. You can talk to us.

JW: My earliest memory is him spanking me. He spanked me so hard I bled. I still remember seeing my blood on his hands. It hurt... hurt like you wouldn't believe.

A2: How old were you, do you recall?

JW: ...Three... or four I think.

A1: He hit you often, then?

JW: He did. Until it started hurting him more than me.

A2: What do you mean, Joseph?

JW: It was about five years ago. He was hitting me, and I was angry, and I wished he would feel hurt just like me. And, well, I guess he did cause he stopped and was like, holding his hand and staring at me.

A2: He didn't hit you after that?

JW: Not that I can remember. But he started hitting my mom after that.

A1: When he got drunk?

JW: Yes.

A1: I see. Let's change the subject a bit, son. It says in your profile here you were bullied in school, is that right?

JW: Yes, but I don't see what that has to do with my parents.

A1: Just bear with us, son. Your bully, a {redacted}... He died in an accident outside your school?

JW: Yes. I saw the whole thing. Some asshole in a car ran him over.

A2: Do you remember the make of the car?

JW: Ford Civic. It was bluish-gray. It's... stayed with me.

A2: Understandable. Would it interest you to know that the car was never found from that accident?

JW: I heard they never found the guy who did it, yeah.

A2: That's right, they never did.

A1: Do you need some water, son? You seem a little shaken.

JW: I'm fine.

A2: Okay, Joseph. Let's talk about {redacted}. She was a friend of yours, wasn't she?

JW: ...Yes.

A1: Can you tell us about her?

JW: I don't want to talk about it.

A2: That's okay, you can just listen Joseph, that's fine. {redacted}, she was submitted to the hospital with a broken back and a fractured skull. Seems like she fell from quite the height... The person who called the hospital was you, Joseph. Do you remember?


A2: I've got the transcript from the call. You told the 911 operator that she fell from a tree you both were climbing.

JW: I told you I don't want to talk about it.

A1: Son, I know this must be hard. But {redacted} said there was no tree. She never remembers climbing, just falling. Can you explain that, son?

JW: I don't understand the question.

A2: Joseph, we have thirty-seven other incidents we could go over with you. With your parents' murder tonight, that's thirty-eight.

JW: What are you talking about, incidents?

A1: Son, you know there are people with superpowers out there, right?

JW: I'm not an idiot.

A2: Have you ever been tested to see if you have powers?

JW: Is that what this is about? You think I have powers?

A1: It would explain a lot, son.

JW: I don't.

A1: We'd like to believe you, son. But I think you and I both know what happened tonight.

JW: I didn't kill my parents.

A2: Joseph, we'd like to take you into custody. Protection. But we can't do that unless you tell us the truth about yourself.

A1: How long have you known you've had powers, son? It's okay, you can talk to us.


A2: Come on, Joseph, we...

JW: Shut up.

A2: Excuse me?

JW: I said, shut up.

[silence, audible gasp from A1]

A1: Joseph, please stop.

JW: I'm not doing anything.

A1: Let him go, Joseph.

JW: You come in here, and sit down with your file, and you think you know anything about me? You don't know me.

A1: Son, we're here to help you.

JW: You want to help?

[sound of Joseph's handcuffs hitting the floor]

A1: How did you...?

JW: If you want to help, you stay out of my way. I'm done living under someone else's thumb. My father was a drunk bastard, and he deserved what he got. My mother... have you ever known what it's like to have your own mother look at you with fear? Disgust?

A1: Joseph, please, calm down.

JW: I am calm. But I'm done here. You can't stop me from leaving. No one can stop me.

A1: We're not your enemy, Joseph. Not if you do this the right way. This is the wrong way. We don't care that you killed your parents, or killed that bully. We want to help you learn to control your...

JW: I don't need your help. Goodbye, Agent {redacted}.

[footsteps, followed by the sound of a door opening and closing. A few moments later, there is a clang of something metal hitting the desk (later identified as a sword that had been pointed at A1's throat).]

A1: Are you all right, Agent {redacted}?

A2: ...Yeah, he just... sewed my mouth shut.

A1: His powers must be proximity based.

A2: Maybe. This sword's still here though.

A1: Well... You recorded all that, right?

A2: Yeah.

A1: All right. Let's report back and put out a warning. Super gone rogue. Damn it, he's just a kid.

[end recording]


Name - Imaginarium
[Trump – Level 9]

Wrath's power is his imagination. If he imagines it, it can become reality. At the moment, the exact rules for these powers have yet to be understood, even by Wrath himself. For the moment, Wrath seems satisfied in emulating only small changes to reality, all manifesting as what has been dubbed "creative" abilities - he will summon weapons or armor, food, doorways or stairways, etc.

There is strong evidence to support that Wrath's creative abilities are supplemented by "destructive", as well - the capability to erase things from existence by imagining them destroyed or "not imagining" them. Wrath also likely has the capacity to "revise" - examples include making himself impervious to damage or healing from wounds. He may even have the potentiality to grant himself, or others, additional superpowers.

As noted, the full extent of Wrath's strength has not been measured, but more than anything, his potential has granted him the high level of Trump that he currently has. Whether Wrath will live up to this potential remains to be seen.

Power Origins:

Wrath seems to have this power since birth, although it did not manifest until he was a few years old.

Wrath's Allies:

Wrath almost never works alone. Along with the normal street thugs he is known to employ, there are two major entities that work alongside him during his heists. These entities may be humans he has recruited to his cause, but it has also been theorized that they are actually figments of Wrath's imagination.


The entity known as Dirge appears in black and gold armor. It has manifested powers of superior strength, speed and durability. It carries a thick broadsword of unknown material that can be charged with energy. This energy can be discharged to create explosions. More data is needed on this entity.


The entity known as Stag appears in grey, shadowed armor. It has manifested powers of superior speed and can at least partially control elemental properties such as fire, lightning, or water. It carries a katana of unknown material. More data is needed on this entity.

Color Code:#1208BA

So begins...

Joseph Wright's Story


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Devon Metzger Character Portrait: Jericho Amile Character Portrait: Alexander Dalton Character Portrait: Sheri Galloway Character Portrait: Maxwell Landon (The Shape) Character Portrait: Richard Mackenzie (The White Death) Character Portrait: Vicki Vortex Character Portrait: Sasha Belov Character Portrait: Henry Stewart Character Portrait: Klaus Zeit Character Portrait: Yue Bayushi Character Portrait: Cannonade Character Portrait: Amy Lin Character Portrait: Leah Lin Character Portrait: Akiko Bong Character Portrait: Kiran Kingsley Character Portrait: Maeve Butler Character Portrait: Joseph Wright Character Portrait: Silentium Character Portrait: Liz Baker Character Portrait: Sairyn Pendrake Character Portrait: Hugo Hemrod Character Portrait: Albrecht von Richthofen Character Portrait: Hudson Li Character Portrait: Ezekiel Walker Character Portrait: Ezekiel "Zeke" Walker Character Portrait: Gideon Gauss Character Portrait: Evangeline Richter
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March 12th, 2045, 9:40am: Atlas City, North Carolina, USA

Day 2

Albert's comms crackled to life as a reply came through. "HQ here Albert. Not certain on that ETA yet, government is supposed to be filling us in on that soon. Sounds like the weapon is some sort of canon, or artillery, not sure. They're going to level the residential area close to the beach, they want civvies moved to the West as much as possible to avoid any collateral."


As Vicki and Maeve arrived on scene to help defeat the Beast of Decay, close to a dozen of its offspring rushed up onto the beach, with 3 targeting Maeve, 2 targeting Vicki, and the remaining others charged towards where Yue, Jericho, and Alex were operating. The sand behind these creatures darkened, as patches of dark mold grew.


And explosion of noise erupted from the entrance of one of the roads leading to the beach, as several of the Beast's offspring were torn to shreds, some bursting into bits of flame. The massive .50 caliber machine gun Richard had was making quick work of the offspring, but this was little more than a temporary measure. The man in tweed too had fired off shots, taking out two more of the dark beasts before needing to reload.

Down another adjacent street, explosions could be heard as offspring got blasted into gory, misty messes. Richard and the man in tweed looked over to see Man-Hawk working to keep his own street cleared of monsters, and allowing more innocents to escape.


Three more offspring landed around Man-Hawk, heavy, wet breathing audible all around him as they all lashed out with their veins, and malformed, claw equipped arms. So far he was managing to dodge the attacks, but another distraction had cropped up, now bursting from... His coms? His phone?

The sound was blaring from phones, radios, TVs, and everything else across the city.


Across the city, supers and humans alike, both heroes, villains, and average folk, got the startling, hopeless tone of a National Emergency Alert coming through on whatever speakers were close by. Even the heroes on the beach, the NAHLA heroes, ACHI, and SINS were getting the same message.

"This message is being transmitted at the request of the United States Government. This is not a test. An existential threat against the United States of America has appeared on the coast of Atlas City, North Carolina. The United States Government has commenced preparations for a counter offensive against the threat. A forward assault base will be established in the residential area of Atlas City closest to beach front. All homes and buildings in this area will be demolished in 20 minutes to create space for this counter offensive. Please evacuate the area immediately and retreat to safe zones set up by emergency and government services, as well as hero organizations. Safe Zones will be located in the following locations."

The message continued by listing various locations across the city to be retreated to. 20 minutes. The city had 20 minutes to ensure all living civilians were out of the front line before the military did whatever it was they had planned.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Joseph Wright
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The rocks smashed into the man and his daughter's carriage, only to roll off bizarrely, leaving them unharmed.

"N-nerf balls?" the father said in complete disbelief as he picked up one of the rocks and squished the fluffy material between his fingers.

"You're welcome," came the soft reply from a dark-eyed young man, still a teenager in the eyes of many, who lowered his hand and returned his gaze to what remained of the beast. "What an amazing creature, don't you think?"

Chuckling softly to himself, the teen continued up the street, heading towards the now destroyed military cannon. Behind him, the concrete reverted to its natural state and the man scurried off, taking his daughter with him.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Devon Metzger Character Portrait: Jericho Amile Character Portrait: Alexander Dalton Character Portrait: Sheri Galloway Character Portrait: Richard Mackenzie (The White Death) Character Portrait: Vicki Vortex Character Portrait: Sasha Belov Character Portrait: Henry Stewart Character Portrait: Klaus Zeit Character Portrait: Yue Bayushi Character Portrait: Cannonade Character Portrait: Akiko Bong Character Portrait: Maeve Butler Character Portrait: Joseph Wright Character Portrait: Liz Baker Character Portrait: Albrecht von Richthofen Character Portrait: Ezekiel Walker Character Portrait: Niall Khadkani Character Portrait: Amelia Brunel
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#, as written by Nulix
In the overcast sky above the beast of decay there was a single opening from which the sun beyond shined through. One perfect gap in the sea of clouds.

And then: sonic boom. The clouds sucked together around a red object as it flew through the opening, rocketing toward the injured creature. Atop the roof of a ruined building Shroombala’s eyes widened beneath her toadstool cap. She knew that super. It was the same super who’d blown Boriban’s guts over the Troja Palace in ‘41. It was the same super who’d saved the passengers of SpiceJet 99 in ‘42. And it was the same super who had gotten drunk at Flambeau’s retirement party, seemingly lost all semblance of volume control, and declared that they were such hot shit they could steal Helga Hammer’s date if they’d so desired.

The Tibetan turd’s mouth hung agape. “It’s-!“


Ten minutes earlier

Cannon placed a palm on the the woman’s shoulder and with one strong arm shoved her to ground. The lady landed rough on the asphalt. Straight brown hair falling out a bun, tanned white-skin, a flowing shirt and lululemon leggings. New balance adorned her miniscule feet. And on her face there was a look of fear, a fear so real. A fear Cannon was sure the woman had never before felt. They averted their eyes. "Car's full."

And then they climbed in, onto the black leather upholstery of the Yamaha. They pulled the door shut behind them. Above the enby’s head a soft light came on and from the surround speakers played a Latin swing beat backed by gentle strings. Les Baxter & his orchestra. Tropicando. Easy listening exotica.

Cannonade pulled their leather jacket off their arms and threw it onto the opposite seats. Out the jacket a box of catnip cigarettes and white lighter fell. Cannonade stopped and reached down. They picked a fag off the car floor, placed it in their mouth, and began furiously lighting.

Outside the tinted windows of Cannonade’s rental the woman had rose and began pounding, her fist colliding with the glass to no avail. Cannon could make out a muted fuck you through the window as she abandoned her assault and sprinted off, putting her new balance’s to work. Cannon held the cigarette between tight lips and inhaled before tugging their shirt up. Their torso was lean, a gentle happy trail gracing blackened bruised abs. Their breasts fell free: puny, pointed, and barbell pierced. They pulled the shirt over their head and the lit cigarette in their mouth. The fabric got caught on the sharp edges of their wide shoulders but with a little effort it yanked off and was thrown to the floor.

A long, uninterrupted honk shook the car. The screams were escalating, the sounds of panic now mixed with something new and, to Cannon's ears, monstrous. With their cigarette securely between a thumb and a pointer finger Cannon crawled forward to peer out the window. Down the street a trio of creatures stood – pulsating bodies of hardened clay lined with tree-root veins. They stood at different heights and each seemed to have an array of appendages: some mammalian, some insect-like, and some like tentacles from the sea. It was as if each had a random assortment of features grafted into their forms- just like the creature at the beach. One let out a horrible roar and smashed a parked car into the earth as if it was a piñata. Then, like thunder in the sky, the voice of Adolf Hitler came from the heavens. Cannonade looked up, out the window, wide eyed as the murderer’s impassioned speech echoed, and they sincerely asked themselves: was this hell?

With stallion speed two of the monstrosities passed the car’s windows, hunting for prey. The third, a grotesque creature of warts, had a man cornered across the street. On the car seat next to Cannon, left with a dangerous level of casualness, was one half of their pair of gravity guns. It was a meaty piece of machinery, with a rectangular barrel almost as thick as the rest of the weapon. Cannonade grabbed the pistol and took aim out the window with their left hand. Their right hand was extended, ready to control the projectiles when launched. With a sharp inhale they fired. Their windows were penetrated thrice. The bullets flew forward, their altitude dropping to pass beneath a running civilian’s legs, then rising up above the head of another, and then levelling evenly to penetrate the creature. They struck: two in it’s large, central sack and one in the limb it threatened to bring down upon the man it had cornered. With an explosion of slime the beast began to collapse in on itself.

The Latin swing continued as Cannon unzipped and kicked off their boots. They wore cat print socks beneath. The middle toe on their left foot had stung suspiciously like a fracture since the fight with Maeve. They stretched out across the duo of seats they occupied and did a rough pigeon pose. Their hands moved down their waist and unzipped the frayed jean skirt. The sounds of the outside world came through the window's bullet holes like smoke through a filter. The world was briefly deafened by another of the far off creature’s roars, but was then replaced by the winds and sounds of panic they’d grown familiar with.

Down to a high-wasted black thong Cannonade knelt on the floor of their rental car and reached into a hefty leather tote bag that had been stored there. And in their grasp pulled out was the familiar red weave of their super suit. The material was thick but stretchy, lined with armour and technology. They dipped their socked feet into the legs of the bodysuit and pulled the leathery material up their bruised body as best they could. It slid on like a glove, only snagging on their prominent tush- but after a few tight pulls Cannon overcame. They reached for a button at the neck and with a tap the suit began to pressurize. The wrinkles in the material flattened and became skin tight to the shape of Cannonade’s body. After a moment of adjustment they slid a gloved hand down their stomach to the crotch and pulled to loosen the vacuum sealed fabric. They tightened the straps of the codpiece and other bits of armour that hung from the bodysuit and then pulled up the uniform’s combat boots. They gave them both a double knot.

Out the tote came the final piece of the outfit. The helmet. The flame on Cannon’s fag had reached the filter. After one last inhale they spit it out onto the floor of the car and flattened it beneath their boot. They ducked into the opening of the helm and on the glass before their eyes the ARUI came to life. Cannonade reached up to touch the ceiling of the vehicle. The metal sparked as the roof ripped off the vehicle and rose into the sky. Cannonade too rose beneath it, ascending out of the car and over the street. As they floated Cannonade grabbed hold and climbed atop the rising roof-plate. On their magic carpet of steel they floated higher and higher, away from the chaos on the street below, until they could see over the rooftops, to the beach on the horizon and the creature that terrorized it. Explosions and lights coloured the world around the creature. The military had come in and were readying artillery. Other supers too tried to save the city from the eldritch horror that had arisen at its coast. From the looks of things there was an assemblage of them, all putting up a good fight. But there was one flaw with their strategy, one key issue that would prevent them from achieving victory: they weren’t Cannonade.

The sphere of gravity surrounding Cannonade and the car roof they rode on dissipated, and the metal began to freefall. Cannonade carefully stood on the falling metal and leapt off at an angle, in the direction of the beach before rising into the clouds. Like a lost kite the roof plummeted toward the streets below.


It was a dark and stormy night. Really, it was. There was a tornado on the horizon and the rain smashed against the glass walls of the house like a hot tub jet on full blast. A bleached blonde Cannonade marched forward, sporting a much different outfit and with a motorcycle helmet beneath their arm.

Behind them another figure stood- undercut blue hair. Crossed arms littered with tattoos. A somber expression on a freckled, English face with blue eyes that could pierce your soul. “You don’t have to go,” they said at last.

Cannonade stopped and twisted their head to eye them. “Right now I’m the only one who can.”

Their scene-partner was wide-eyed. Desperate. “I’m asking you to stay.”

“You’re asking me to not be me,” Cannon replied. “I don’t have a choice- you know I don’t have a choice! I didn’t choose to be Cannonade.”

The blue-haired figure walked forward. Their bare-footed steps on the tile coincided with lighting strikes beyond. “Darling, you’re so much more than Cannonade. No matter what they see in the sky... I know what you are." A callous hand reached up to touch Cannonade’s cheek. Their finger traced a mark- long and jagged like a claw scratch beneath their eye, still red but healing. “...You’re flesh and you’re bone.”

“...You think you know what I am?” Cannon’s voice was cold and their accent came through clear as day. They recoiled from the touch and continued to march toward the glass, toward the tornado on the horizon. They grabbed hold of a handle and pulled the sliding door open. The wind hit them like a semi-truck. The rain felt like pebbles against their skin. And the thunder bellowed again as they stared down the apocalyptic scene. “You have no idea.”

And with that Cannonade ducked into their helmet. Ready to be the superman.


Cannonade rocketed down from the sky. They’d surrounded themselves in a bubble of bearable gravity within another bubble of gravity increased to deadly degrees. Fire consumed all as the earth pulled them down to it’s surface, like a mother pulling back a long lost son. Their bones stretched, their muscles were wrung. They could feel the pressure coming in. Inside the helmet their skull rocked from side to side violently. The world was a blur and tears streamed down their face. They weren’t religious but at times like this even Cannonade prayed, however silently. They released their fists, letting their hands fly free. And as blinding fires consumed their view they closed their eyes.

“-Cannon!” Shroombala finished as the red cannonball made contact with the beast of decay. And, to great shock to the onlookers, it ripped through the creature like a bullet. It was almost too fast to tell what had happened, but something had happened. It was as if a pea-sized black hole had sliced through the core of a planet in the blink of an eye, and the planet had collapsed around it.

There was a line where the being of extreme gravity had passed through. The insides that once occupied the gargantuan creature were cleanly ripped out along the vertical path Cannonade had flown. The creature's compressed guts chased after Cannonade’s body like tracking missiles chasing a jet, straight down into the sea. With it’s centre gutted the remaining two sides of the beast of decay began to crumble. The colossal remnants of it’s carcass fell and collided with beach before toppling over into the waters. The veins that had attached through the earth of the metropolis ripped out, collapsing the buildings they had ensnared. A tsunami like wave rose from the impact with the water. The water swelled and grew, gathering high enough over the heroes to block out their sun. And it lingered, threatening to come down over Atlas City and wash what remained of it away.

Seconds after entering the sea Cannonade smashed into the bed of the bay- not that they felt it. They would have blacked out far before the seabed, most like upon impact with the water thirty feet above. Their body began to float, limp but stationary, with their helmet acting as an anchor and keeping them stuck to the sea floor. Above them sank the remnants of the beast of decay, consuming the water in blackness. But the mould never reached them. The dark instead seemed to swirl and move, like a school of fish- shattered but still living...


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Devon Metzger Character Portrait: Sheri Galloway Character Portrait: Maxwell Landon (The Shape) Character Portrait: Richard Mackenzie (The White Death) Character Portrait: Vicki Vortex Character Portrait: Sasha Belov Character Portrait: Henry Stewart Character Portrait: Klaus Zeit Character Portrait: Cannonade Character Portrait: Akiko Bong Character Portrait: Maeve Butler Character Portrait: Joseph Wright Character Portrait: Silentium Character Portrait: Liz Baker Character Portrait: Hugo Hemrod Character Portrait: Albrecht von Richthofen Character Portrait: Hudson Li Character Portrait: Ezekiel "Zeke" Walker Character Portrait: Gideon Gauss Character Portrait: Niall Khadkani Character Portrait: Amelia Brunel Character Portrait: Jamie Kerrow Character Portrait: Scourge
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Maxwell grinned under his mask at Vic's various remarks, a little amused by her candidness in what she had to say. "You know Miss Vortex, our resident tinker may be away, but I certainly think I could be of some assistance to you. Both in getting back your 'personal investment', and I suspect in many other things." His gaze was fixed on the rocker, considering her, and what she'd been through. She'd told him next to nothing, but she didn't have to. The Shape had seen plenty of performances before, and while her almost flippant behavior was authentic, Vicky Vortex was practically draped in pain.

"As for keeping my secrets Vicky, I'm not really worried about any of that. You don't seem the sort to burn bridges with friends, and I think you might be looking for some right now. Some resourceful, well connected friends."


Richard stared down the glistening air, noticing a red dot now trained on him. "Carlisle? Oh he's my grandfather figure." He remarked sardonically to the sniper. Richard's right hand was tensing up, readying up as he responded again. "As for how many of us he's got around, that's need to know information. And you don't need to know. Though I have to ask; who hired you to kill some random, old billionaire, and why?"

Before an answer could be given, time began to skew around the sniper. Klaus had arrived, and not a moment too soon. "Appreciate the help! Now as for ideas..." Richard paused, finally being able to see glimpses of the enemy. A robot? Seriously? This was beyond anything he expected... But not something he was going to be any more intimated by.

"I've got a few." Richard grinned as the red dot swayed slightly. He flicked something with his right hand, and the red dot quickly separated into thousands of directions as it shone through a piece of glassy ice. Taking a dive to the side, Richard fired off a few shots at the robot, before tucking and rolling into cover. A few shots silently rang out from the sniper, but while Klaus made a few attacks of his own, Richard came back around in a full charge at his steely foe.


George nodded stoically to Henry, though his eyes showed a certain dread, the realization of how precious a commodity time was, and how forces were now at play that sought to rob him of as much of it as possible. "We'll need to contact the others. Richard is going to try to subdue the shooter, but you're right, we need to get out of the city. I think it's finally time we made that trip out to sea..."




Richard's body slammed into a sheet of reinforced, skylight glass, causing the whole piece to buckle and crack. He gasped silently, his whole back searing in pain from where it connected with the skylight, his chest contracted and unable to move, incapable of taking in any air. Gripping onto the side of the angled surface, he steadied himself enough to roll off of the glass and onto the layer of concrete that made up the roof of an entirely different skyscraper. The fight had gone unexpectedly wrong when the assassin grabbed Richard and threw him from the roof of the Galliant building, and onto whichever building he was on now.

His whole body shook violently as the realization came over him of just how close to death he had been. The assassin made a miscalculation, a mistake. Had he thrown him in a different direction, or with less strength, it would have been pavement Richard was landing on. Finally, his chest managed to release from its contraction, and deep, shaky breaths returned to him as he gulped up as much air as his lungs could handle.

Laying prone, resting his forearms on the ground for support, Richard slowly rolled himself over onto his aching back, gazing unsteadily into the bright blue sky above him. There was rapid, unintelligible chatter come through his comms device, something about the other group being attacked by some villains? An explosion at the mansion? Needing to retreat? His brain couldn't make any sense of it, so he pulled the device from his ear and decided to just lay there.

Just 10, maybe 15 minutes. 20 tops. He just needed a second. He just needed some Time.

To Be Continued.