Druid
09-28-2005, 02:32 AM
((I am in the middle of a crux here and am slowly leaning towards not doing CoV. So I have some villains that I had designed to be my ultimate evil group and suddenyl I may not be using them. So I will write one of my stories for them here in the hopes that someone may adopt my villains and carry on their villainous actions. There will be five main ones, but as I go on writing I may add in new villains. As a side note I am in a very bad mood right now so I need someone to take it out on. Statesman is up to bat. =D ))
Marcus Cole tossed and turned as he lay in his bed within his bunker at the Freedom Phalanx headquarters. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead as he battled the unseen forces of evil that assailed his mind. Nightmares, it was a malady he suffered from often. One does not normally escape such things in his line of work. The villainous denizens of Paragon were quite creative at times in their slaughter of mankind. This night he was reliving a particularly gruesome scene he had come across just before the onset of the Ritki War.
It had been a stormy night, a terrible Noreaster had blown in and was driving freezing rain in sheets down upon the city. It was a miserable night to be working, but a hero's job is never done. He had been on patrol for nearly two hours without incident when he heard the screams. Someone was being attacked in a back alley. Quick as he could Marcus had sped to the scene. It was the Vazhilok. Up against one wall was a woman crouching in terror, the cadavers dragging their re-animated forms slowly towards here. Behind the walking dead were two Mortificators and another cadaver. This one was on the ground and twitching violently. Marcus smiled inwardly, at least the woman had managed to get one of them. Focusing on the task at hand he picked out a favorite line he used often when battling the minions of the evil Doctor.
"You know, if you wanted to be with the woman, you could have tried asking for a number first," The Mortificators turned towards his voice. "Then if the date went well you could ask for spare limbs in the comfort of your own apartment." He stood before the villains, a towering mass of muscle and patriotism and still he cringed inwardly. The line was in such poor taste, yet he had neglected to think of a better one as of yet.
"Get him!" One Mortificator commanded, gesturing the at Statesman to get the cadaver's attention. Slowly they changed their trajectory and headed for the city's favorite hero. Marcus lined up his body and pictured his path, then shot forward in an incredible burst of speed and strength. Before anyone could blink the first cadaver was already in the process of exploding outward in a shower of limbs and the second and third were flying through the air, dropping bits of rotting flesh. Satisfied at the performance Statesman turned to find two cross bows pointed at him.
"Now honestly you two, what do you expect to accomplish with those? It will be a cold day in hell when I am put down by an ARCHER, of all things." He laughed derisvely at their efforts. Looking at each other the two Mortificator's threw down their weapons and ran as fast as they could. Marcus readied to go after them, but stopped when he heard the woman sob. "Are you alright mam?" He started to walk over to her, but before he could the cadaver that had been lying between the Mortificators began to rise. It was jerky in its motion, the woman had obviously damaged it quite severely. Statesman prepped himself to put the abomination down.
The grotesque and mutilated form shuffled towards him, moaning as it raised its arms out in a terrifying parody of a hug. Marcus pulled a fist back and aimed a fierce blow at the head of the creature. The mouth of the monster quivered, allowing faint sighs and mumbles to escape, but remained sewn shut. It looked like a faint line on the bleeding mass that was the face. Marcus shuddred, this was a fresh one. Nevertheless, it was better to put the thing down then to leave it to wander the streets of the city. He was just about to land his blow when the woman behind him screamed.
"Noooooo!! Don't do it!" Marcus flew off balance and landed unceremoniaously on his ass, thrown off balance by his redirected punch.
"Woman what is your problem?"
"That.. that isn't a cadaver. That is ..my fr-riend Lisa." The woman collapsed in sobs unable to go on. Statesman turned back and looked again at what he had taken to be one of the undead minions of Vazhilok. He could see it now. The mutilated form still maintained a vaguely feminine shape. Her right arm was missing, but her left arm still hung onto her body, albeit short several lengths of skin. What he had mistaken for bloody shreds of clothing were in actual fact pieces of her stomach. Her face was nearly unrecognizable. One eye socket was completely empty, while the other was wide open and full of frightened panic. Marcus, the great Statesman and protector of Paragon City stood frozen in horror at what the Vazhilok had done to the woman. They must have drugged her, then moved her into the alleyway to operate. Looks like she woke up partway through their organ transplant. I wonder if they sewed the mouth shut before or after she woke up. The gruesome thoughts running through his head distracted Marcus, and before he could do anything about it the thi..woman was upon him. She practically fell into his chest and her tattered face looked up into his as she slid downward, a faint airy bubbling of blood escaping through a crack in the closed mouth. As he watched, transfixed in abject horror her one eye, her one eye that had been frantically twitching and turning in panic, slowed its movements, and then went still. Frozen in a permanant look of true terror.
"So this is what the great Statesman dreams about? Fascinating. I dream about things much the same as this. Though I must admit.. I enjoy them far more then you seem to." The voice hissed out of nowhere, shattering the night terror that had been troubling Marcu's sleep. "Now don't stop on account of me. I wouldn't want to impose, I'm sure there are any number of other terrors that you could relive. I will be quiet honest." Marcus cast about wildly in the void of sleep. The voice seemed to come from everywhere. Then as quickly as his last dream had dissolved, a new one formed.
Now he was in the middle of Boomstown, only a few minutes prior to the attack that had absolutely demolished their old headquarters. Dozens of young hero trainees were practicing in the training grounds when the ship appeared. The students were transfixed by the sheer size and splendor of the ship. Marcus wanted to close his eyes, he knew to well what was about to happen, but some force kept them wide open. There was a buzzing noise, some of the younger heroes rubbed their ears in discomfort as it increased in pitch and intensity. No, Gods no. Don't make me watch this! his thoughts went unheard. The buzzing cut off and before his very eyes all of the students were cut down by the blast of energy that cut through the entire neighborhood. Right in front of him he witnessed the flesh being burned off the bones of not only the dozens of young recruits, but also from the bodies of the citizens of Boomstown. Hot tears streamed down Marcus's face and he collapsed onto his knees.
"Exquisite." The voice whispered reverently. Then suddenly it corrected itself. My apologies, it seems in my excitement I forgot my promise to be silent. I assure you I won't make so much as a peep in this next one."
"Where are you!!" Statesman shouted into the darkness of his dream. "Why are you here?" He received no reply, instead another dream began.
He was no longer in Paragon City. Now he was in a mountain fastness. Marcus froze. He recognized this place. He and only one other man alive, would recognize this place anywhere. He turned around to see if his assumption was correct. It was. Before him lay the fountain of Zeus in all of its splendor. Then the mountain faded into Paris. He was walking with a woman, when a gang of thugs stepped out in front of them. He pulled the girl close to himself and watched the gang members circle around, effectively surrounding him. He tensed, anticipating the attack. It came in a sudden whirlwind of kicks and punches. He moved far faster then any of them, punched more efficently, and far stronger. The last of the thugs dove not for him, but for the girl. Mustering all of his strength He drove a fist into the side of the man's head. It exploded liek a rotten pumpkin. Rather then becoming disgusted at the act, Marcus turned on the other crooks that were just beginning to rise to their feet. He struck at them in the same manner, shattering their frail human forms.
"Puny Mortals! You are like flies before me. I weild the power of a God, I am a God!" He laughed maniacally as he continued on, the shattered forms rose up from the ground and came at him again and again, only to be met with another powerful fist. Still they rose and attacked again. Marcus was beginning to tire. Something was wrong here, his energy was failing. As it did he realized in horror what he was doing and still he could not bring himself to stop. The pulpy forms of the crooks piled ontop of him, suffocating him, burying him ina pile of human flesh and shattered bones. The darkness seemed to swallow him.
Someone began to clap. The slender form of a man, seeming not much past his early twenties stepped out of the shadows clapping his hands together. "Excellent. Excellent. Well played hero, well played. Though I must admit even I was surprised by the ferocity of your attacks. Pity those were not real people. This revelation would have been far sweeter had they been." The man licked his lips.
"Who..who are you?" Statesman gasped, forcing himself to rise to his feet to face this new man.
"Who am I? A question I ask myself quite often. It is difficult to decide who you are when one is insane. The thought process does not flow quite as well as it does for others. If it is a name you want then you can call me Sibbilance." He slid his hand across the hilt of a slender katana that was strapped to his side. " But there is little need to talk about such formalities here Marcus Cole, you and I shall have plenty of time to discuss these things once I have taken your soul."
"Ta-Taken my soul? I don't know who you think you are, but the only thing you'll be taking is a fist to the face."
Wonderful you still have energy left even after that showing, my friends will be delighted that you still want to fight. They would have felt so put out if I had told them you were not going to accept the challenge."
"Friends? You mean you are not going to face me? Coward!"
"Sticks and Stones my dear Marcus, sticks and stones." He smiled, a cruel thing not unlike the look a wolf gets just before it sinks its teeth into its prey. "Come on out Teutatis, Dementia! It is your turn to have fun."He looked back at the Statesman. Perhaps if you defeat them we will get to fight. Only if you defeat them however."
Out of the shadows rose a giant of a man. He was decked out in mighty armor of the blackest steel. Spikes rose out of the shoulders and glistened in the strange were-light that permeated the world of Statesman's dream. One massive Gauntleted fist rose up and removed a mighty War Mace the size of Statesman's head.
"Now let us see what God is truly more powerful. This Zeuss you speak of, or myself Teutatis War God of the Celts!" Without further adieu he struck with the mace, a quick and vicous blow that obliterated the ground where Statesman had just been standing moments before. All around him the dream seemed to coalese(sp?) into a massive arena. Complete with a jeering audience. The mace swung down again, whistling as air rushed to fill the space it left behind. Statesman threw a hand to stop the mighty weapon, a move learned from years of fighting the Freakshow and Warriors. For a second it seemed as though he would hold back the weapon, but then the full force of the blow rippled down through his arm and drove him to the ground. He rolled out of the way of the third strike and rose unsteadily to his feet. Marcus was fairly certain that the arm was dislocated, if not broken. This was going to be tougher then he had anticipated.
Marcus Cole tossed and turned as he lay in his bed within his bunker at the Freedom Phalanx headquarters. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead as he battled the unseen forces of evil that assailed his mind. Nightmares, it was a malady he suffered from often. One does not normally escape such things in his line of work. The villainous denizens of Paragon were quite creative at times in their slaughter of mankind. This night he was reliving a particularly gruesome scene he had come across just before the onset of the Ritki War.
It had been a stormy night, a terrible Noreaster had blown in and was driving freezing rain in sheets down upon the city. It was a miserable night to be working, but a hero's job is never done. He had been on patrol for nearly two hours without incident when he heard the screams. Someone was being attacked in a back alley. Quick as he could Marcus had sped to the scene. It was the Vazhilok. Up against one wall was a woman crouching in terror, the cadavers dragging their re-animated forms slowly towards here. Behind the walking dead were two Mortificators and another cadaver. This one was on the ground and twitching violently. Marcus smiled inwardly, at least the woman had managed to get one of them. Focusing on the task at hand he picked out a favorite line he used often when battling the minions of the evil Doctor.
"You know, if you wanted to be with the woman, you could have tried asking for a number first," The Mortificators turned towards his voice. "Then if the date went well you could ask for spare limbs in the comfort of your own apartment." He stood before the villains, a towering mass of muscle and patriotism and still he cringed inwardly. The line was in such poor taste, yet he had neglected to think of a better one as of yet.
"Get him!" One Mortificator commanded, gesturing the at Statesman to get the cadaver's attention. Slowly they changed their trajectory and headed for the city's favorite hero. Marcus lined up his body and pictured his path, then shot forward in an incredible burst of speed and strength. Before anyone could blink the first cadaver was already in the process of exploding outward in a shower of limbs and the second and third were flying through the air, dropping bits of rotting flesh. Satisfied at the performance Statesman turned to find two cross bows pointed at him.
"Now honestly you two, what do you expect to accomplish with those? It will be a cold day in hell when I am put down by an ARCHER, of all things." He laughed derisvely at their efforts. Looking at each other the two Mortificator's threw down their weapons and ran as fast as they could. Marcus readied to go after them, but stopped when he heard the woman sob. "Are you alright mam?" He started to walk over to her, but before he could the cadaver that had been lying between the Mortificators began to rise. It was jerky in its motion, the woman had obviously damaged it quite severely. Statesman prepped himself to put the abomination down.
The grotesque and mutilated form shuffled towards him, moaning as it raised its arms out in a terrifying parody of a hug. Marcus pulled a fist back and aimed a fierce blow at the head of the creature. The mouth of the monster quivered, allowing faint sighs and mumbles to escape, but remained sewn shut. It looked like a faint line on the bleeding mass that was the face. Marcus shuddred, this was a fresh one. Nevertheless, it was better to put the thing down then to leave it to wander the streets of the city. He was just about to land his blow when the woman behind him screamed.
"Noooooo!! Don't do it!" Marcus flew off balance and landed unceremoniaously on his ass, thrown off balance by his redirected punch.
"Woman what is your problem?"
"That.. that isn't a cadaver. That is ..my fr-riend Lisa." The woman collapsed in sobs unable to go on. Statesman turned back and looked again at what he had taken to be one of the undead minions of Vazhilok. He could see it now. The mutilated form still maintained a vaguely feminine shape. Her right arm was missing, but her left arm still hung onto her body, albeit short several lengths of skin. What he had mistaken for bloody shreds of clothing were in actual fact pieces of her stomach. Her face was nearly unrecognizable. One eye socket was completely empty, while the other was wide open and full of frightened panic. Marcus, the great Statesman and protector of Paragon City stood frozen in horror at what the Vazhilok had done to the woman. They must have drugged her, then moved her into the alleyway to operate. Looks like she woke up partway through their organ transplant. I wonder if they sewed the mouth shut before or after she woke up. The gruesome thoughts running through his head distracted Marcus, and before he could do anything about it the thi..woman was upon him. She practically fell into his chest and her tattered face looked up into his as she slid downward, a faint airy bubbling of blood escaping through a crack in the closed mouth. As he watched, transfixed in abject horror her one eye, her one eye that had been frantically twitching and turning in panic, slowed its movements, and then went still. Frozen in a permanant look of true terror.
"So this is what the great Statesman dreams about? Fascinating. I dream about things much the same as this. Though I must admit.. I enjoy them far more then you seem to." The voice hissed out of nowhere, shattering the night terror that had been troubling Marcu's sleep. "Now don't stop on account of me. I wouldn't want to impose, I'm sure there are any number of other terrors that you could relive. I will be quiet honest." Marcus cast about wildly in the void of sleep. The voice seemed to come from everywhere. Then as quickly as his last dream had dissolved, a new one formed.
Now he was in the middle of Boomstown, only a few minutes prior to the attack that had absolutely demolished their old headquarters. Dozens of young hero trainees were practicing in the training grounds when the ship appeared. The students were transfixed by the sheer size and splendor of the ship. Marcus wanted to close his eyes, he knew to well what was about to happen, but some force kept them wide open. There was a buzzing noise, some of the younger heroes rubbed their ears in discomfort as it increased in pitch and intensity. No, Gods no. Don't make me watch this! his thoughts went unheard. The buzzing cut off and before his very eyes all of the students were cut down by the blast of energy that cut through the entire neighborhood. Right in front of him he witnessed the flesh being burned off the bones of not only the dozens of young recruits, but also from the bodies of the citizens of Boomstown. Hot tears streamed down Marcus's face and he collapsed onto his knees.
"Exquisite." The voice whispered reverently. Then suddenly it corrected itself. My apologies, it seems in my excitement I forgot my promise to be silent. I assure you I won't make so much as a peep in this next one."
"Where are you!!" Statesman shouted into the darkness of his dream. "Why are you here?" He received no reply, instead another dream began.
He was no longer in Paragon City. Now he was in a mountain fastness. Marcus froze. He recognized this place. He and only one other man alive, would recognize this place anywhere. He turned around to see if his assumption was correct. It was. Before him lay the fountain of Zeus in all of its splendor. Then the mountain faded into Paris. He was walking with a woman, when a gang of thugs stepped out in front of them. He pulled the girl close to himself and watched the gang members circle around, effectively surrounding him. He tensed, anticipating the attack. It came in a sudden whirlwind of kicks and punches. He moved far faster then any of them, punched more efficently, and far stronger. The last of the thugs dove not for him, but for the girl. Mustering all of his strength He drove a fist into the side of the man's head. It exploded liek a rotten pumpkin. Rather then becoming disgusted at the act, Marcus turned on the other crooks that were just beginning to rise to their feet. He struck at them in the same manner, shattering their frail human forms.
"Puny Mortals! You are like flies before me. I weild the power of a God, I am a God!" He laughed maniacally as he continued on, the shattered forms rose up from the ground and came at him again and again, only to be met with another powerful fist. Still they rose and attacked again. Marcus was beginning to tire. Something was wrong here, his energy was failing. As it did he realized in horror what he was doing and still he could not bring himself to stop. The pulpy forms of the crooks piled ontop of him, suffocating him, burying him ina pile of human flesh and shattered bones. The darkness seemed to swallow him.
Someone began to clap. The slender form of a man, seeming not much past his early twenties stepped out of the shadows clapping his hands together. "Excellent. Excellent. Well played hero, well played. Though I must admit even I was surprised by the ferocity of your attacks. Pity those were not real people. This revelation would have been far sweeter had they been." The man licked his lips.
"Who..who are you?" Statesman gasped, forcing himself to rise to his feet to face this new man.
"Who am I? A question I ask myself quite often. It is difficult to decide who you are when one is insane. The thought process does not flow quite as well as it does for others. If it is a name you want then you can call me Sibbilance." He slid his hand across the hilt of a slender katana that was strapped to his side. " But there is little need to talk about such formalities here Marcus Cole, you and I shall have plenty of time to discuss these things once I have taken your soul."
"Ta-Taken my soul? I don't know who you think you are, but the only thing you'll be taking is a fist to the face."
Wonderful you still have energy left even after that showing, my friends will be delighted that you still want to fight. They would have felt so put out if I had told them you were not going to accept the challenge."
"Friends? You mean you are not going to face me? Coward!"
"Sticks and Stones my dear Marcus, sticks and stones." He smiled, a cruel thing not unlike the look a wolf gets just before it sinks its teeth into its prey. "Come on out Teutatis, Dementia! It is your turn to have fun."He looked back at the Statesman. Perhaps if you defeat them we will get to fight. Only if you defeat them however."
Out of the shadows rose a giant of a man. He was decked out in mighty armor of the blackest steel. Spikes rose out of the shoulders and glistened in the strange were-light that permeated the world of Statesman's dream. One massive Gauntleted fist rose up and removed a mighty War Mace the size of Statesman's head.
"Now let us see what God is truly more powerful. This Zeuss you speak of, or myself Teutatis War God of the Celts!" Without further adieu he struck with the mace, a quick and vicous blow that obliterated the ground where Statesman had just been standing moments before. All around him the dream seemed to coalese(sp?) into a massive arena. Complete with a jeering audience. The mace swung down again, whistling as air rushed to fill the space it left behind. Statesman threw a hand to stop the mighty weapon, a move learned from years of fighting the Freakshow and Warriors. For a second it seemed as though he would hold back the weapon, but then the full force of the blow rippled down through his arm and drove him to the ground. He rolled out of the way of the third strike and rose unsteadily to his feet. Marcus was fairly certain that the arm was dislocated, if not broken. This was going to be tougher then he had anticipated.