(HS) Operation R.E.B.O.R.N.

(HS) Operation R.E.B.O.R.N. (Full Version)

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Clown the Jester -> (HS) Operation R.E.B.O.R.N. (7/21/2011 23:06:08)
Operation R.E.B.O.R.N. Written by Gray Silhouette, submited with permission from the author by Clown the Jester. Feel free to discuss the story here. Warning Story rated PG13 for violence and dark themes. Characters either fictional or based of form characters with permission. Gray Silhouette and Clown the Jester would like to thank the AE Staff for the incredible work they do. Operation R.E.B.O.R.N. is the sequal of Comedy and Tragedy Prologue: Dark Past. Two years before the events known to the city as the Chaos Carnival Riots occurred. “Any visual?” “No. I still don’t understand, how do you know Ajax and his crew will be here?” I asked into my helmet receiver, while switching my Vision Mode back to Thermal Mode, scanning the small bowling alley. “I mean, the guy’s been hiding from you for like what? Six months? Why would he come out of hiding? And in one of your main patrol routes? How do you know he will be here?” “My source was very…persuasive,” the voice whispered back, so feint that I had to increase the volume of his channel to understand him. “Also, Ajax Russle’s son is having a birthday party there. Apparently the Filth has enough of a heart to take a break out of his busy schedule of murders, and Gang wars to attend his son’s special day. Hrmph. Filthy Hypocrite.” “So you attend the Mobster’s son’s birthday,” I muttered into the head set, changing Vision Mode to Night Vision. “But for the past 5 years you never even sent me a Birthday Card.” The other end of the radio was silent. “So how do you know your…uh…source was legit?” I asked hastily, afraid our partnership would be terminated. “I mean, most of your ‘sources’ are Underworld crooks like the guy we’re after. How do you know he’s telling the truth?” “His screaming made it seem very believable,” The voice replied. “Are you serious Dad?” I asked, shocked, and disappointed. Was he serious I ask myself. “How bad was he?” I asked, almost accusingly. “Few fractured fingers, broken nose,” My dad answered coolly. “Maybe a few ribs. I couldn’t have him be able to warn Russle of the information we gathered. Though, even if he is stupid enough to refuse Medical help, I very much doubt he is going to tell his boss that he sold him out to me. He’d end up ten times worse than how I left him. How many visible Innocents are in the Bowling Alley?” From my roof, opposite of the single story, three rooms Bowling Alley Building, my Visual feeds activated, scanning for human life. I pressed a button on the side of my dark blue combat helmet. The Bowling Alley changed from an eerie green to a dark purple. Thermal Mode…well my improved Thermal mode. Small yellow blots, most likely lights leaked out from the window. I zoomed my scanner feed in 500%. The dark red skeletons highlighting the blood and heart pumping shined through the four inch thick stone walls. My zoom in made it almost as if I was standing next to the People inside the Bowling Alley. I could see the heated outline of one Bowler miss his split, throwing his arms up in frustration. “15 Civilians,” I replied, my built in Computer scanning their facial features and appearances to determine their Identities. Once their identities were confirmed, I fed the information into a Criminal Database program. “No connections to Ajax Russle,” I continued, scanning the information displayed on my helmet’s visor screen. “Hrmph, more innocents there than I would hope,” My Dad hissed, thinking carefully. “We could wait until after his son’s party, then as he leaves we jump him,” I suggested. “No, Ajax Russle is as paranoid as they get. After my spooking him badly those 6 months ago, he has more security on him than the President,” He replied. “As soon as he leaves that building, he will be out of the city in less than 5 minutes. We need to take him down as soon as he enters that party or we might lose him.” “His son or any of his party guests have not arrived yet. Are you sure this is…hold on,” I paused, zooming in on an approaching vehicle. “There… pulling up, the black limousine. Is that him?” “I see it,” Dad answered. “Yes that’s him. Alright get to your post, are all your bugs in place?” “Yeah,” I replied, performing a last system’s check on my combat suit. “I’m ready, just need to plant the tracer.” “Alright, wait for my signal,” He continued. “I need to see if he has any information on Him.” Him. A recent obsession my dad recently developed after some encounter he had with a guy he called the Mastermind. Recently, he had been more focused on this Mastermind than the Clown. Which was a scary thought, do to everything that grinning Harlequin did our family. Somehow my father was convinced this Ajax Russle could be a lead to the Mastermind. I zoomed in on the limousine. The both passenger side doors opened, 4 men in suits, obviously body guards, climbed out of the vehicle, checking the perimeter. One of them reached into the back seat, helping Ajax Russle out of the vehicle. Russle’s appearance was all red. Red sports jacket, red tinted shades, red oxford shoes, red tie, even his skin had a light red due to heavy tanning. The only other color visible on him was his pail blonde hair, so bright it seemed almost white. Russle was defiantly feeling exposed being out in the open, with my high powered vision modes, I could see the look of unease on his face, sweat perspiring down his forehead. In his hands, he shifted a small red gift wrapped present back and forth. Sweating dripping down his forehead. The guy looked like a good heart attack candidate. I couldn’t help but wonder how a heartless gangster who slaughter countless innocent people like animal could possibly attend his son’s birthday party. I couldn’t help but feel bad for the guy, knowing what we were going to do. But the guy was one of the biggest Crime Lords in the entire city. Though, after his encounter with my dad, his gang’s movements had greatly diminished. The body guards lead Ajax into the Bowling Alley, seating him at the lane farthest away from the windows. My jet pack roared to life, rocketing me off the roof top, over the city. Flying faster than a Jet. And easier to pilot. I descended to the deserted limousine, attacking one of my tracker bugs under the vehicle. My dad radioed in, “Have you planted the bug? The Kid’s arriving, it’s almost time.” “It’s in place and functioning perfectly,” I replied, rocketing back into the air, positioning myself back on the rooftop of the building across from the bowling alley. I zoomed my Vision in on the kid. 11 perhaps 12...he had his father’s hair. He was escorted in by four more bodyguards. “I’m going in,” He replied. “Over and out.” ………………………………………………………………… Ajax Russle stood up from his seat, seeing his son enter through the Doors, his bodyguards behind him. As Ajax began to walk towards his son, red present in hand, something out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. A shadow closing in on a glass window. “Oh God no,” the mobster whispered under his breath, paralyzed in fear. CRACKASH! A bodyguard yanked Ajax back as the broken glass flew through the air. Everyone screamed, someone dropped their bowling ball to the ground in surprise. Gray Silhouette burst through the window landing between two bodyguards. The two large men pulled out their Desert Eagle hand guns, raising their firearms up to the Vigilante’s face. Gray Silhouette swung out both his fists, the punches lift the two bodyguards off their feet, one was flipped backwards, landing down on the party table they had set up a few minutes ago, crushing the cake, as well as the table that collapsed. The second body guard fell to the ground, face first. The Gray Silhouette stood up, everything about the man was terrifying, powerful. His dark mask that covered his face, making it seem like his head was that of a shadow. The way he moved…silent as a panther…like stalking prey. His dark apparel…almost impossible to see in the darkness. He was tall, and extremely muscular. The peak of physical perfection. Most people would say they would never want to be alone in an alley with the guy. However if you were an innocent…and you and he were not alone in the alley…there would be no one higher in your list of people you would wish was there. “Hello Ajax Russle,” Gray Silhouette whispered, a voice so terrifying that it cased Ajax to fall in his kneed, his arm wrapped around his son, a pathetic attempt of protection…but still admirable in a way. “It’s been a long time, I’d hate to ruin your son’s party, but we need to have a little chat.” The bodyguards, that were still standing, pulled out their hand guns, opening fire. Gray Silhouette dived behind the shelves of Bowling Balls. The gun fire cracking the bowling balls to pieces. Two body guards grabbed Ajax and his son, pulling them outside of the Bowling Alley, followed by other people, desperate to get away from the madness. Ajax and his Son were lead towards Ajax’s Limousine. As the Body Guards shoved their client and his son into the vehicle they squeezed in behind them. The car roared to life, speeding away from the alley. “Follow them,” Gray Silhouette whispered into his earpiece. “Roger,” I responded my jet pack rocketing me into the air. “Computer, Activate Tracer #4,” I commanded. A small map of Super City flashed over my visor, a small bulls eye target flashed on the screen, moving quickly down East Main Street, heading towards Market Street. …………………………………………………………………………………………….. Gray Silhouette sat behind the self, waiting as the Body Guards continued to fire, alternating reloading so someone was always shooting. Gray Silhouette pulled out a bowling ball from the rack, throwing it into the air behind him, over the shelf, and down on one of the Bodyguards. THUNK! The Bodyguard sank to the floor, his head bleeding badly. The other three watched as Gray Silhouette leapt over the Rack, plowing his foot into the face of the Guards, ramming his elbow into the Jaw of another. Both stumbled back as Gray Silhouette lift the third into the air with his powerful hands, throwing the bodyguard down one of the bowling lanes, the guard knocked over all the pins…perfect strike. One of the remaining Bodyguards raised his gun aiming for the back of the Vigilante, Gray Silhouette twirled around, his fingers gripping the gun, twisting back so hard, so fast, that it broke the gunman’s fingers. A quick punch to the face stopped the Body Guard from screaming. The last body guard tried to retreat from the Bowling Alley, firing blind shots behind him. Before he could make it through the door, Gray Silhouette tackled him, throwing him to the ground, followed by a powerful kick to the face. Gray Silhouette quickly exited the Bowling Alley, he could hear the Police Sirens in the distance. “Where are they heading to?” He hissed into his head piece, sprinting down a deserted alley. “They’re driving down Market Street,” I shouted over the body guards’ gunfire. I followed overhead the car, unconcerned as the men in the Limo fired up at me. Even if they could accurately shoot me in a speeding vehicle, their bullets wouldn’t even dent my armor. “Alright then,” Gray Silhouette responded, taking a short cut through the Park towards Market Street. As he evaded the Demo Divas and the DaVinci Kill Bots, he whispered back into his head piece, “Stop them, but leave Ajax alive for questioning.” “I’ll try,” I replied sarcastically, firing my gravitation beam down on the speed vehicle, instantly halting the car in it’s tracks. Yeah, like I’m the one who kills every single criminal he meets as violently as possible, I thought to myself as I levitating the Limousine two feet into the air. Not much to my surprise, the limousine doors swung open, the body guards, Ajax Russle, and his son fell out of the floating car, running towards Frank’s Apartments. I descended to the ground, one of the body guards stopped at the front doors, trying to hold me off as the rest of his group disappeared into the Apartment Building. He aimed his Desert Eagle at me, opening fire, the bullets bouncing harmlessly off my chest and helmet Visor. I held up my hand, firing a concentrated burst of blue energy into the Gunman’s chest, lifting him off his feet and through the apartment doors. I followed behind him, glancing down at his unconscious body. Breathing. He would be out for give or take 48 hours…but he would still be alive. I switched my vision mode to X-Ray Vision mode, my vision traveled through the walls, locating the skeletons of Ajax Russle racing up the Apartment stairs followed by the Bodyguard and his son. Due to the recent attack from the DaVinci Killbots, the entire building was empty until repairs could go underway. Activating my jet pack, I rocketed back outside, zooming up to the top of the building. I entered the roof doorway, stopping at the top of the steps as Ajax and his party came into view. My X-Ray Vision deactivated as I fired another Concussion Blast into the chest of the Bodyguard, dropping his fire arm as he was launched down an apartment hallway, slamming into the opposite wall. Ajax grabbed his son by his hand, leading him down the Hallway. As they ran, he pulled out from his coat pocket a Tech-9 semiautomatic pistol, firing a quick burst of machine gun fire at me. As they ran, Ajax continued his weapon at me, despite the bullets doing little effect against my armor. I had designed the suit out of a material I created back at my Lab. Harder than diamond, durable as well as flexible as well. Fire Proof, insulated, and as far as I knew, indestructible. Ajax and his son slowly came to a stop. Their escape route became a dead end. Nowhere to go. Nowhere to run. “Look,” I said trying to reason with the Gangster. “If you cooperate with us than this will go much easier for you.” “Back off!” he cried out, firing another clip of bullets at me. “Mastermind was right about you freaks!” The Apartment Door next to Ajax suddenly swung open, a powerful hand seized Ajax by the throat, pulling him into the apartment room. The Son let out a cry of surprise; I quickly followed in behind Ajax. “WHAT DO YOU KNOW ABOUT THE MASTERMIND?” Gray Silhouette snarled at the terrified Ajax Russle. Ajax dropped the gun to his feet in fear. His eyes wide open, teeth chattering in absolute horror. “I…I…duh…duhnuh,” Ajax stammered, the guy struggled in Gray Silhouette’ iron grip. Gray Silhouette lift Ajax into the air, slamming him into a wall. “Where is the Mastermind? Who is he really? What is he planning?” Gray Silhouette demanded. “I can’t tell you,” Ajax pleaded. “If I tell you anything he’ll know. He always knows. He’d kill me!” “If you don’t tell me I’ll kill you myself,” My Dad whispered venomously as his grip around Ajax’s throat tightened. “Now tell me, what he is planning.” “I DON’T KNOW!” Ajax screamed. “ALL I KNOW IS HE’S PLANNING SOMETHING BIG! Suh…suh…something that involves the entire City. After his man, Mr. Black was…uh…exposed of by you…he…called a conference with all the major criminals. DaVinci, Insecro, Ancient Darkness, that…uh…that Charries guy...and some of the Skull Deep Gang lords.” “What did The Mastermind say? Plans? What is he after?” Gray Silhouette asked. “I have no idea,” Ajax replied. “He kept going on and on about all these bizarre schemes he had. Uh…something about blowing up some random records building…uh…something about rebuilding a City. None of the jobs seemed so profitable so I wanted out. I swear that’s all I remember.” Gaining his confidence back, Ajax snarled on, “I’ve told you what you want to know, now get your filthy hands off me.” Gray Silhouette let out a hissing sound, almost like a snake. “Let go of me fruh…freak,” Ajax continued. “I haven’t done anything wrong. Nothing that you can prove.” “Haven’t done anything wrong?” Gray Silhouette repeated in an angry hoarse voice. “Filthy Scum.” Gray Silhouette released his grip on Ajax Russle’s throat, dropping the man to the ground. My father dropped a handful of photographs down onto Ajax’s lap. “Mary Arkansan,” Gray Silhouette motioned to the first picture of a young woman with gold hair. “Ran a small Beauty Salon, refused to pay your criminal organization for your Protection Rackets. You beat her to death with a baseball bat.” “Alexander Johnson,” he continued gesturing to the next photograph. “Ran a family restaurant. He saw your men murdering his son, and when he tried to testify against you, you hid a bomb in his car.” “Larry Fredrickson,” My father went on, jabbing a gloved finger at a picture of a man in police uniform. “Served on the force for 14 years, refused your bribes, refused to tolerate your corruption, a man who refused to compromise. You ran him over with your car. These are merely a fraction of the others you slaughtered you Filthy Dog.” “I…I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ajax continued, his cold heartless Mobster face returning. “You have no evidence to prove anything, and even if you did…No Jury would be stupid enough vote Guilty on me. They know that their family, their friends, and anyone they remotely care about would be dead.” Please shut up, I screamed in my head. My eyes locked on Gray Silhouette, his body trembling in rage. “So back off Freak,” Ajax continued, pulling himself to his feet, grinding his heel down on the photographs. Gray Silhouette began to advance on Ajax, like a predator advancing on his prey. DEAR GOD, SHUT UP YOU IDIOT! I tried to will Ajax to stop talking. How could this guy possible try to act tough to my father? He was asking to die. Oh God no…. “I actually heard about your wife being killed by the Clown,” Ajax went on, grasping his son’s hand in his. “I heard your wife begged like a…” “FILTHY MONGREL!” Gray Silhouette roared, smashing his fist into Ajax’s face, shattering four teeth. Before Ajax could even scream, my father slammed his elbow into the Mobster’s stomach followed by a powerful right jab in his cheek. “Dad!” Ajax’s son and I called out at once. The Mobster crumpled to the floor, Gray Silhouette tightening his grip around Ajax’s throat, pummeling him over and over with his powerful fists. Blood spattered across Gray Silhouette’ fist and face as he punched harder and harder. “DAD STOP!” I called out again. “Not in front of his own kid. Not now.” “NO!” Gray Silhouette roared back, breaking another two of Ajax Russle’s teeth. “THE KID SHOULD WATCH! SEE WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU JOIN A LIFE OF FILTH! SEE THE CONSIQUENCES!” Ajax let out a wail…almost animal like. His eye rolling deliriously, his face smeared with blood. “This is wrong,” I replied. “Ajax was a murdered, but if we kill him, then what makes us any better than him?” “I knew you would be too soft for doing some real work,” Gray Silhouette hissed, slamming his fist down, once again on the Mobster’s wailing face. “Real work?” I asked, storming towards my father. “You call murdering a man in front of his own son on the kid’s birthday Real Work?” “I don’t have time to explain myself to you,” Gray Silhouette continued, looking up from Ajax, his masked eyes no doubt boring into mine. “Get out of here. There can be no toleration for filth. We cannot hold back against such Filthy Dogs just because we don’t want to get our hands dirty.” “No,” I replied. “You will not be killing this man. He will be put on trial for his crime. Let justice decide his fate.” “JUSTICE?” Gray Silhouette roared, standing up to face me. “You mean let MONEY decide his fate. He said it himself. No court would convict him. He would buy his way out and go back to his life of killing the innocent.” “I won’t let you kill this man,” I repeated, raising my hand, a Ray Gun in my grip. “No,” Gray Silhouette hissed. “Never Compromise, Never Back Down, Never Surrender, Never take prisoners.” “Step away from him Dad,” I ordered. “This is your only warn…” Before I could finish, Gray Silhouette kicked the ray gun out of my hands, grabbing me around my visor helmet and slammed my head against the Apartment wall, tearing a hole through it. I was back on my feet, more surprised than actually hurt. I fired my Gravitational beam at my father, to my amazement, he evaded the beam, grasping a chair in on hand, and smashing it down over me. The Chair broke to pieces over my skull; Gray Silhouette rammed his shoulder into my chest, knocking me off my feet. I fired out a chilling blast from my freeze ray, creating a thick layer of ice over the vigilante’s legs. I pulled myself to my feet, turning around to see Gray Silhouette swing a hand in a karate position down on the layer of ice. CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! After the third hit, the ice broke away, releasing my Father. My jet packs activated, giving me an extra boost of speed as I rammed into Gray Silhouette, lifting him into the air, slamming him into the wall behind him. I punched my father in the face. What was happening? I was fighting my own father. “Dad,” I began, struggling with the masked vigilante. “I only want to…” Vrrrugggeee! Gray Silhouette shot out his hand, activating the EMP Grenade on my belt. Immediately the Electromagnetic Pulse surged around me, deactivating the overhead lights, Ajax Russle’s gold latex watch, and my combat armor. All my weapons, my gadgets, my defenses neutralized. My armor became motionless, weighing me down instead of aiding me. My father round house kicked me in the helmet. Sending me spinning in the air, landing hard at my side. I fell to the ground. Beaten. My energy source deep within my armor would be at this moment rerouting it’s energy to the areas of my suit deprived of power. Even an EMP couldn’t disable my energy source…though it would take some time for my suit to be fully operational. Way too much time. Gray Silhouette turned from me, advancing on Ajax Russle. The Gangster’s son stood in the Vigilante’s path, arms raised, trying to fend off my father. Trying to protect his own father. Gray Silhouette shoved Ajax Jr out of his way, the boy fell to the ground, watching helplessly as Gray Silhouette lift Ajax Russle over his head. Tears in his eyes. “Dad please,” I begged. “This could go over really bad. I have a really bad feeling about this.” “Never Compromise,” My father whispered, carrying Ajax to the open window Gray Silhouette entered earlier. Sticking Ajax head first out the window. “Dad, don’t!” I called out watching helplessly, as Gray Silhouette shoved the screaming mobster through the window. “Dad….DAD!” Ajax let out one final scream as he descended to the ground 8 stories bellow. His cry cut short. Dead. “I put down the filth,” Gray Silhouette whispered, looking out the window at the motionless Mobster. “Never again Blue Gear. You became a hindrance. Never Again.” “I…Dear God Dad…What is wrong with you?” I asked pulling myself to my feet, my armor about to reactivate. “Get out of my sight,” Gray Silhouette replied, picking up the Tech-9 Ajax had dropped, examining it, then placing it into an evidence bag. Ajax Russle’s son was sobbing on the carpet floor, tears dripping down his eyes. “Look Dad…” I began to reason with my stubborn father. “I SAID GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!” He roared again. “FINE!” I snapped back, my jet pack lifting me into the air, I directed myself out the open window. “God, You psychopath! You have no control! Killing all these people without a second thought will come back to bite you in the end. Maybe hurt the ones you care about as well…if there are such lucky people.” I rocketed off, anger filling my mind. I would meet up with my father at my Lab the next day. I would try to make amends…try…but fail. I wouldn’t see my father again until the Chaos Carnival Riots…where he would ask me to repair a weapon to defeat Clown the Jester. Ajax Russle Jr. watched Gray Silhouette vanish into shadows. His mind replayed the horrific scenes of his father being murdered. It…it wasn’t fair. It was his birthday. His day…and his father…was dead. He was alone. Murdered by a sick twisted freak. No…NO! These masked Smashers…these Heroes…they took everything Ajax Jr. could ever care about. They are monsters. They are monsters…MONSTERS! And He would dedicate his life to killing them all off. All of them. But the first two on his list would be Gray Silhouette…and Blue Gear. He would make them pay. Vigilantes…Masks…Smashers…anyone who dared to take the law into their own hands…they would be dealt with…they would be put down…he would kill every last one of the freaks. The Monsters. The unnatural creatures. Ajax Russle Jr was dead. All that remained was the Black Vengeance.

Clown the Jester -> RE: (HS) Operation R.E.B.O.R.N. (11/23/2011 18:08:25)
Chapter One: Taking up the Mantle. Nearly Five years after the events of the Chaos Riots. “28,29,30...31,” I grunted, raising the 260 pounds of barbell weights over my body. “32…33,34…35” I could already feel the strain on my muscles. Already my arms were weakening. My arms wobbled as I continued to lift. “Crap,” I hissed under my breath, replacing the barbell into it’s placeholder. I sat up, stretching my arms left and right of me. My face was bright red from the intense work out, sweat dripping down the side of my face. Over my head, one of my floating monitors switched to the SuperCity News. “And in other news, the citizens of SuperCity are gathering outside of the city’s limits, celebrating the upcoming reopening of the City.” The female newscaster reported, to the right of her head, a video link of the mob of people and their festivities. “The City is scheduled to officially open later tonight; coinciding with the 5th anniversary of the start of the infamous Chaos Riots where close to 1.3 million people would lose their lives to the notorious Clown the Jester and his Chaos Carnival.” As I listened to the news, I began my daily twenty minutes of beating a punching bag. I switched between punches and kicks, making sure I hit every inch of the punching bag. “Many people have complained that the reopening of the City on the anniversary of the day it was nearly destroyed is insensitive to the effected survivors and the families that lost loved ones to the riots. However due to pressure from the public to open the town as soon as possible, the Government have decided opening tomorrow would continue as schedule,” The News caster continued, old footage of the construction crew rebuilding the devastated city filling the screen. I punched harder and harder. I needed to stretch myself further and further. Push myself as Dad did. The Punching Bag shook as I pummeled it. “It was rumored that after the additional damage to the city during the Modo Incident that the Government would abandon the entire project, however thanks to another generous donation by an anonymous donator who digitally transferred 8.5 billion dollars to the City’s Restoration Budget. This is still unconfirmed if it was the same anonymous donator who transferred 8.5 billion dollars to the City’s Rebuilding Budget at the beginning of the City’s restoration.” I was still not where I needed to be after four years, eleven months, and 28 days of daily training. Though my body had significant increase in muscle growth, stamina, endurance to pain, and speed. But it wasn’t where I needed it to be in order to take the mantle of the Gray Silhouette. My dad could easily lift twice what my maximum was and do ten times as many reps as I could. Something he gained through unbelievable determination, focus, and nonstop training. As Gray Silhouette, I could no longer depend on my weapons, my Jetpack, my armor. I would have to use what was at my disposal…which would usually be nothing besides my body. I couldn’t help but marvel how much Gray Silhouette’s and the Blue Gear’s ways differed despite being father and son. True we both used our intelligence to stay five moves ahead of our enemies…but our knowledge was in different areas. My intelligence was based in mathematics, chemistry, engineering, computer science, and anything else you could learn from research. My father’s intelligence was based on finding patterns, criminal science, finding connections in “random” data, and predicting the world around him. And he wasn’t even a Smasher. “Off,” I commanded aloud, the floating monitor showing the news turned black, floating off. In less than four hours, I would take to the streets as Gray Silhouette, in time for the City’s official reopening. No doubt with such massive celebrations in the fair grounds, crime would be on a ramage. After the Chaos Riots, the saviors of the City were given two options. Either leave their homes and live in the overcrowded Emergency Shelters till the City was restored, or restart their lives in a different city. Though small groups, returned to live in Super City’s ruins. Some returned in search of lost loved ones. Some returned because they had nowhere else to go. And others returned because they smelled opportunity for profits. New gangs rose from the ruins of the City. Made up of the youth, the desperate, the fearful, or the insane. They raided the City for anything of value. Food, weapons, gum, supplies, and whatever they could set their greedy fingers on. Plundering the few signs of civilization like Barbaric Tribes. Hundreds of people were forced to pick sides in the new gangs for protection and food. It was almost as if the people were sent back in time to the age of hunters and gathers. The devolved into savages. Others such as The Dealer, made huge profits from the crumbling City, setting up a trading market for goods and supplies. And when the restoration began, some of the gangs tried to resist the rebuilding. They refused to loose the power and life they found in slaughter and pillaging. Killing construction workers, stealing supplies, damaging equipment. The Government had to send in what remained of the Super City Navy and National Guard to regain control over the area. With help from Yercom, and the Mysterious Donator, the City was finally on the road to recovery. The Mysterious Donator, the people called him or her The Guardian Angel of the City. If it wasn’t for the incredible donations, the town would still be in the ruins it was five years ago. But who could possibly have that kind of charity money and want to keep their identity a secret? So many questions, so many risks of Gang attacks, let alone any other chance of crime. The Gray Silhouette would reappear in Super City the very night it reopens. Naturally after so many years of the Gray Silhouette not being seen, it was rumored he was one of the countless that died during the Chaos Riots. But when he resurfaces the night the City reopens, the gangs, the criminals, the filth…they would know that whenever they hid in the shadows…they were not alone. “Computer,” I called out, giving the punching bag a final kick where the human jaw would be. “Initiate Function: Suit up, Program 2.” Over my head, one of my many drones levitated down in front of me, opening like a brief case, extending a neatly pressed business suit made for my size, a black ski mask, and a sealed bag of tools. I took the mask, holding it in my hands. This was the end of Blue Gear. He served his purpose well. But city needed The Gray Silhouette. I carefully fitted the ski mask over my face. I could feel it’s Legend Consume me. I let it be me. I am The Gray Silhouette. This City has become dirty while I was gone. But now I’ m back, and I will clean it up. …………………………………………………………………………………… Super City Subway Station. Two Hours after the Official Reopening of the City. The Subway Station was empty. Not even the staff was there. Most had already left for the Fair Grounds Celebration. Most….but not everyone. Two figures carefully wheeled their motorcycles down the Subway Stairs, walking their bikes over to the train tracks. Both men were dressed in torn up jeans and sleeveless shirts. One of them was bald, a small bowler hat over his scalp, a small violet flower stapled to the side of the hat. The second had long spiky hair, dyed purple. Both had Clown makeup over their faces, the makeup was carelessly applied. The white makeup of their face was smeared with the red trail following their lips, painted to curl up in a smile. The smear white and red made a light pink covering half their bottom jaw. The two were a part of the Clown Boys Gang, named after Clown the Jester. The Clown Boys had no connections to the Chaos Carnival, however being themed after the Harlequin that killed millions including the Smashers seemed like an attractive offer. The Clown Boys were one of the countless gangs that rose during Super City’s rebuilding. Compared to the others, it was relatively a small gang. Mostly troubled youth or crazed young adults. More out for fun then real profit. Though making easy cash never hurt anyone. As the two Clown Boys wheeled their motorcycles onto the subway tracks, they hopped on their bikes, the engines roaring to life. Grinning with excitement, the two zoomed down the Subway track, entering the Subway tunnels. “Did you hear? The City opened up a couple hours ago,” The bald headed on called out over the roar of the motorcycles. “Yeah, I heard,” His companion replied, accelerating his bike. “Word is everyone’s heading to the Fair Grounds for that stupid party.” “Works for me, Smiley said he had a job for us. And with most of the town deserted, it’s gonna be an easy ride.” “Any idea what Smiley has in mind?” “Nah man, you know Da’ boss, never tells us squat till the last minute. But it’s gotta be a hot one.” “Just as long as we don’t get into too much heat. I heard that someone gutted Mickey last week, and I don’t want that to happen to us. Did you know about Mickey getting gutted? Ozzy and Pops were hit in a drive by. ” “For real? Crap. What happened?” “No clue, but Mark…you know Mark right? Mark said some lunatic came driving down Brick Street on a Motorcycle, firing a sawed off shot gun out at a bunch of our boys who were tagging up the street. Ozzy and Pops had their heads blown off. Mark says Mickey was trying to make a run for it when the weirdo drove by Mickey and jabbed a machete or something into the guy’s back.” “How does Mark know this?” “They guy hears stories, Ok?” “How do we know these stories ain’t bull?” “Well have you seen Mickey or Pops or Ozzy at our hang outs?” “No,” “Well there ya go. Anyway, Mark says the guy then used Mickey’s blood to screw up our tag and put his own.” “What was his tag?” “Black Vengeance. Freaky stuff right?” “Hell Yeah! Is this guy in one of the enemy gangs? Trying to get our numbers down? I mean, Mickey is Smiley’s little bro right?” “I don’t know. I mean, Mark said the guy did this solo style. He doesn’t sound like any gang member I know of.” “Could be another of those killer Vigilante guys. Like that other guy back before the City was busted up. What was his name again? Something Shadow right?” “Nah man, it was Gray Silhouette. Broke my uncle’s arm when he was a part of the Apocalypse Gang. Broke my uncle’s nose too.” “Yeah, but that guys dead right?” “Has to be, I mean Gray Silhouette hasn’t been seen for like what? Five years? Must have been iced by the Clown.” “So you think this guy, what was it? Black Vengeance is going to be another Gray Silhouette?” “Dunno, but it scares the Hell out of me.” The two Clown Boys slowed down, reaching a Maintenance Room within the tunnel, the door broken in. The Clown Boys hopped off their motorcycles leaving them to the side with the other motorcycles, and entered the Maintenance Room. twelve other Clown boys were already waiting in the large room, cheering, yelling, and playing some sort of a game that involved tossing a glass bottle and smashing it with a baseball bat. Sitting in torn up sofa, sat the gang leader. Mr. Smiley. He wore a purple vest with a black t-shirt with a yellow smiley face symbol medallion underneath. He like the others wore blue jeans, torn at the knees. His face was painted white with a black makeup sad face surrounding his mouth. His hair, a purple Mohawk, the sides of the hair shaved clean away. He was tall, and muscular. Solid as a rock. He sat hands together as if in prayer his elbows resting on the sofas arm rest. He watched the game, emotionless like a statue. His dark eyes never blinking ice cold. “Hey Chester and AJ’s here,” one of the Clown Boys called out. “That’s everyone boss.” Smiley glared up at Chester and AJ. “Where have you fools been at?” Smiley snapped. “I told you two idiots to be here half an hour ago.” Smiley’s voice was a low monotone, with a slight edge as if he was always annoyed. “Sorry boss,” Chester replied, shrugging his shoulders. “AJ needed to refuel his bike.” “You keep me waiting ever again and I’ll make you real sorry,” Smiley growled, cracking his knuckles. “I give an order you follow it down to the letter.” “Yes boss,” AJ grumbled, head bent in fear and embarrassment. “Sure thing boss.” “Now that we’re all here,” Smiley continued. “We have a couple of jobs to pull. Since tonight everyone including most of the cops will be at the Fair Grounds Celebration, we have to use this chance to it’s full extent. Multiple operations at once. Huge gain for the Clown Boys. Show this City we ain’t Clowning around.” The gang let out a roar of approval. “We slip into groups and hit multiple targets. Hit fast, get the jobs done and get out,” Smiley continued his hands together again, elbows resting on the sofa arms. “One group hits the Super City Mall, break into as many cash registers as possible, stuff as much money into one of those black trash dumpster bags, and get out before the someone hears the alarms. That group will be made of Calvin, Bobby, and Larry.” The three Clowns nodded. “Next group will be busting into Boom-ingDales Shop over in East Mainstreet. Gather as many weapons as you can, make sure you collect the ammo as well. I want enough fire power to blow away every gang in this city. Including the Smashers. This group will have Danny, Steve, and AJ. Get in get the weapons and get out quick. The Police Station is just a street away from you.” “Last group, I have a special Job in mind. I know these Black Vengeance stories are a bunch of crap. Those Pirates have been gunning for me since we blew up their hangouts and stole their treasure stash. They must have shot up Ozzy and Pops. Those one eye freaks killed my brother Mickey. Since the Navy and those Smasher freaks have been pushing those Pirates further up River since the City’s reopening, they won’t have their booby-trap since their ships are in new waters. I say its about time we sink their ships down and send those pirates down with the fish freaks bellow.” Smiley sat up, pulling out an UZI machine gun from under the Sofa’s cushion, loading it. “When the second group bring back the Boom-ingDales weapons, you all will gather at Super City Bridge and start dropping Cars on them while the other groups give cover fire. When the rest of you finish your jobs, you meet us up at the River,” Smiley continued, rising from the seat. “We kill them all. Every last one of them. We’ll make them pay. NO ONE KILLS A CLOWN BOY!” The others let out a cheer, gathering their weapons. Only three others had guns. Two had crowbars, one baseball bat, another the emergency fire axe, chains, and a lead pipe. The Clown Boys ran out cheering, hooting, and yelling. They mounted their motorcycle, waiting for their boss to lead the charge. “Tonight this City will be the play toy of a new Clown. We’ll burn this City down. We’ll slaughter every enemy gang. We’ll run this Circus, and we’ll send it back to a lawless ruins. And we’ll be the Ring Leaders,” Smiley’s voice echoed in the tunnels. “We’ll send this City spiraling back to the Trader Town Days!” Their motorcycle’s roared to life zooming down the Subway Tunnels bursting out into Brick Street, the group split into three driving off into their separate directions. ……………………………………………………………………………… Black Vengeance watched the Clown Boys drive off from his own motorcycle waiting in an alley. Two loaded sawed off shot guns waited in gun hostlers waiting at both sides of the Vigilante. Black Vengeance was dressed entirely in black. Black leather biker jacket, black leather pants, his boots were the kinds that had small spikes sticking out at the toe of the shoe, sharpened to slice through flesh and bone. Strapped to the Bikers back was a sheathed machete, still red from where Black Vengeance sliced open Mickey Galosei. Black fingerless gloves and a black skulls belt, holstering two Tec DC-9 semi automatic pistols…modified to be a machine pistol. Under his leather jacket, he was strapped with a three inch thick bullet proof vest. He wore no mask. He refused to fall to their level. Refused to dress up like those freaks. All he wore were a pair of black tinted shades. Black Vengeance had dyed his hair from the pail blonde into black spiky hair to be able to blend in with the shadows as the Freak who murdered his father could. If the Gray Silhouette ever showed his face in the Darkness, Black Vengeance wanted to just as difficult to spot in those shadow. Across the right side of his face was a Black Skulls tattoo. The figure had changed greatly from the terrified boy of seven years ago. His tanned skin covered in night time army camouflage. He was tall, muscular to the point where it didn’t get in the way. Blue Gear wasn’t the only one training all this time. Thanks to a bug he planted in Smiley’s lair, Black Vengeance knew everything that was about to go down. Black Vengeance knew Smiley Galosei would go nuts after his brother died. Something that would attract a lot of attention. More importantly…he knew the Smasher Heroes would try and stop the Clown Boys, only to be caught in Black Vengeance’s trap. And Black Vengeance would make those Smasher Freaks pay. Suffer as his poor father had suffered. Black Vengeance’s motorcycle roared to life, the biker squeezed down on the accelerator, speeding into the night.

Clown the Jester -> RE: (HS) Operation R.E.B.O.R.N. (11/23/2011 18:09:38)
Chapter 2: Hunters and Hunted. Calvin, Larry, and Bobby’s motorcycles roared down the deserted street, slowing in front of the restored Super City Mall. No lights, no staff, all entrances and exits locked down till tomorrow after the Fair Ground Celebrations. “Still can’t believe these streets are so empty,” Bobby muttered, hopping of his motorcycle. Bobby was the smallest and youngest of the Clown Boys, wearing a dark green hoody and purple tinted glasses. He was still a teenager, joining the Clown Boys for survival as the gangs of the former Super City Ruins fought tooth and nail for control of the decimated city. Bobby drew out a heavy brick and hurtled it through the glass entrance doors. The glass shattered, clattering on the pavement “No cops, No heroes, Nobody patrolling the streets?” Bobby continued, jumping through the broken door, retrieving his brick and used it to break the locks off the mall entrance, and held the door as Larry and Calvin carefully lead their bikes in, dropping the brick behind him. “The whole city deserted just after it opened?” “Nah man, I heard there are a dozen or so cops roaming the City…the rest are trying to watch over the fair grounds. Heard the place is packed,” Larry replied as the three Clown Boys quickly wheeled their motorcycles into the Mall approaching the first shop. Build-A-Ferret. “How can there be so few cops? I mean, who leaves an entire city unguarded?” Bobby asked, unzipping his worn out duffle bag, pulling out a baseball bat and handing it to Larry, as well as pull out a crowbar for himself. “Especially after this City just reopened. You’d think they would have the army crawling everywhere. I mean, you’d think they’d want to make sure nothing happened to this city after they just rebuilt it.” “Lucky for us,” Larry continued, kicking the display window in, the Clown Boys quickly scrambled in. Larry wore the joke party glasses, one of the fake bushy eyebrows missing, the plastic lens cracked at the side. He wore a yellow trench coat, with a striped zebra tie wrapped around his neck. He joined the Clown Boys after his former gang. The Traders fell apart. Back then, the Traders dominated half of the ruined Super City, crushing gang after gang with strategic drive by hit and runs along with making compacts with the Dealer. Rumors had it they were buying some kind of a radioactive chemical that could turn normal men into monsters. Stories of giant mutants with three arms stalking the streets made the leader, The Blademaster, unstoppable. Larry didn’t believe the mutant stories at first, this changed when The Blademaster personally lead a force of thirty men Larry included in an assault on a dozen enemy gangs allied together. To Larry’s shock and horror, the shrunken gang leader was riding on the shoulders of a gigantic humanoid beast. After they conquered a gang, they would allow them the option to join the Trader ranks, or be mutant food. Soon the gang expanded till it contained two hundred members, turning their territory into the main trading market with heavy assistance from The Dealer nicknamed Trader Town. The massive gang dissolved after a thirty or more Smashers brought the gang, the mutants, and even The Blademaster. As the rival gangs scrambled to claim pieces of the Trader territories, Larry was swept into the Clown Boys. No big issue. A gang was a gang. As long as there was pay and good times, Larry didn’t care whether he wore a leather trader mask, or clown makeup. “This is a large city so the odds of us running into the Cops are lower than winning the Lottery,” Larry muttered, hopping off his bike. “Alright you guys, shut up!” Calvin snapped, parking his motorcycle in the middle of the mall. “We’re on a tight schedule. Let’s get to work.” Calvin approached the cash register, pulling a sledgehammer from his bike while Bobby and Larry moved to The Anit-Slime Store. Calvin smashed the Cash register open, grabbing handfuls of the money within the cash register and stuffing it into a black Trash Bag. He was a large man, a purple sweat shirt and black shorts covered his muscular body. He was one of the first members of the Clown Boys, one of Mr. Smiley’s most trusted members, and the closest thing to friend the gang leader had. Calvin, Smiley, and his younger brother Mickey grew up together, every day, fighting to survive as the fallen city tore itself apart. When the Trader Clan fell, Smiley was able to gather a small gang of followers, through intimidation, fear, and violence. Bobby moved to Archimedes & Mitch, smashing a crow bar against the glass window. As the glass fell, he hopped over the front counter, shoving the crowbar in the Cash Register slot, prying it open. “The Silent Alarm should have gone off by now,” he called out, emptying the cash into his trash bag. “We got at least fifteen minutes before cops storm in.” “What you mean, Cops storm in?!” Calvin yelled as he looted the iShack store. “You guys were just talking about how the Cops won’t run into us and how safe tonight is!” “Dude, we said that most of the Cops are at that Fair Ground thing,” Bobby snapped back, pulling out two long metal chains from a worn out duffle bag. “But when their Police H.Q. starts buzzing from the alarms, they send SWAT teams here, though it’ll take them a while since most of the cops will still be watching over the Party. We still got time man.” Larry hopped on his motorcycle, parking it next to Bobby’s, linking the six foot long chains to his and Bobby’s motorcycles, as Bobby attached the other ends to the ATM machine. “Ready?” Larry asked as Bobby climbed onto his own motorcycle. “Yeah,” Bobby replied. “We’ll do it in 3, 2,1…GO!” The two clowns accelerated their bikes, as the chain became taut, the ATM bent slightly forward, still attached to the wall. “Again!” Bobby yelled. The two motorcycles accelerated, tearing the ATM Machine off the wall, dragging it behind them, money flying out from the torn up machine. “Sweet!” Larry called out, hopping off his bike and hurried over to the ATM, removing handfuls of money and stuffing it into his trash bag. “Let’s finish this row of stores and get out of here.” “Works for me,” Bobby said looting The Heromart Store. “Dude, they have that Critical Hits CD in here, Nice.” “Bobby, Boss said we steal cash, not steal stuff,” Calvin called out. “Anyway, we got to get going. So put that stuff down and get over here.” Calvin waited for a response….but all he could here was dead silence. “Hey Bobby! You hear me dude?” Calvin called out, Larry walking up behind him, his eyes scanning the shops for Bobby. “We got to go! Come on man!” “Yo Bobby,” Larry called out walking past display after display. “Where are you man? We need to go. Smiley wants us to drop the loot at the hideout and go meet up with him and the others at the River!” Nothing. “I don’t like this man,” Calvin called out. “We got to get out of here!” “We got to find Bobby first,” Larry replied, ascending up the escalator, approaching the Heromart shop. “Bobby? Hey, Bobby!” “Don’t like this,” Calvin repeated, fiddling with his Jack hammer. “Just leave the guy. We got to leave before the cops show up. Come on man, let’s leave him.” Larry stepped through the large hole Bobby had made in the display window. No sign of Bobby. His eyes scanned the room. The Cash Register was open, but the money was still in the slot. “Bobby?” Larry called out again. Something was wrong. “I swear to God Bobby, if your messing around I’m going to beat you so hard that…you…uh…” Larry trailed off, his eyes locking on Bobby’s duffle bag and crow bar, dropped in front of the store’s changing room. Larry slowly advanced towards the Changing room, finding only one cubical with the door closed. Larry slowly opened the door, as his head scanned the small room, his eyes instantly locked onto Bobby’s. Bobby was bound with the chain he and Larry used earlier to pull out the ATM. The chains were wrapped around his arms, legs, and his neck almost resembling some escape act a magician would perform. Bobby’s eye blinked intensely at Larry, the end of a black t-shirt was stuffed into his mouth, his purple tinted glasses, hanging by one ear. They boy let out terrified, muffled, cries, thrashing frantically at the chains. Larry quickly pulled the t-shirt out of Bobby’s mouth, next trying to untangle the chains. “OH GOD LARRY!” Bobby cried out, tears trailing down his trembling face. “He…jumped me from buh…behind, wrapping me up with thuh…the chains! SHOVED THE SHIRT IN MY MOUTH! HE WAS A SHADOW LARRY! A FREAKIN SHADOW!” “Calm down Bobby,” Larry snapped, still fumbling with the chains, his eyes darting left and right. “I’ll get you out of here, we’ll get Calvin, and we’ll…” Larry was cut off by Bobby crying out, “IT’S HIM LARRY! BEHIND YOU! OH MY GOD! IT’S THE SHADOW!” Larry spun around, his eyes squinting in the darkness. At first…he thought the room behind him was empty…then he saw the man, blending in with the shadows. The man was medium height, on the thin side, however his physic gave the impression that his body had the small muscular body, tight muscles under his clothes. The figure’s face was hidden behind a black ski mask, no eye holes, no hole for a mouth. He wore a black business suit, black shoes, black gloves, and black tie. The figure stood motionless, arms at his side, head slightly bent forward. Larry knew who this was…back before the Chaos Riots, he heard the stories. He saw the news story on Gray Silhouette killing a dozen cops just before the Chaos Riots began. “Gray Silhouette,” Larry whispered, in awe and astonishment, his eyes wide, his face pail. “You’re Gray Silhouette, aren’t you?” The figure gave a single slow nod, still motionless. “Larry…LARRY!” Bobby cried out, trying to stand up, only to fall on his side. “Untie me, kill the guy…don’t just stand there…DO SOMETHING!” Larry glanced down at the baseball bat in his hands. He had a weapon, the mask didn’t. Gathering his courage, he charged at the masked man, the baseball bat raised over his head. CRACK! THWACK! THUMP! The next thing Larry knew, he was on his back, his wrist stinging in pain, his nose bleeding, with two broken teeth. He was lying on the ground, dazed, not recalling how his charged at Gray Silhouette ended with him on his back. His mind was barely able to register how fast Gray Silhouette moved. Larry was taken down in three swift moves. 1.The masked vigilante rammed his elbow into Larry’s face, breaking the joke glasses along with the Clown Boy’s nose and teeth. Larry stumbled to the left of Gray Silhouette, blood beginning to trickle out his nose. 2. Gray Silhouette karate chopped at Larry’s wrist, causing the Clown Boy to reflexively release his grip on the bat, dropping it at their feet. 3. Gray Silhouette slammed the palm of his hand into Larry’s chest; the force of the hit lifting the man’s feet off the ground and tumble backwards, landing on his back. Bobby began to crawl away from his fallen companion and the masked vigilante, wriggling like a worm. He frantically inched himself as fast as he could, trying to make it out of the store. Gray Silhouette calmly handcuffed Larry to the store counter; the Clown Boy’s eyes stared at the masked vigilante, still unable to register what just happened. “CALVIN!” Bobby called out, wiggling towards out of the store entrance, trying to make it towards the escalator. “CALVIN! WHERE ARE YOU? LARRY’S DOWN! THERES A GUY WITH A SKI MASK! WE GOTTA GET OUT OF HERE! HE’S AFTER ME!” “BOBBY?” Calvin called out, climbing the escalator, his sledgehammer gripped tightly in his hands. “WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?” Gray Silhouette took his time, advancing slowly towards the panicking Bobby. Bobby turned his head to face the masked man, to let out a final shriek as Gray Silhouette grabbed the boy’s leg, and dragged him back into the Heromart Store. ………………………………………………………………………………………. I was actually doing it! I could be Gray Silhouette, and it was working. My scanners detected the Mall Silent Alarms going off, and I was able to enter with the help of my father’s trick key, unlocking the side entrance and quickly taking Bobby down and tie him up as his companions looted the store. And they were afraid of me. The Clown Boys, Larry and Bobby, were petrified in fear when they saw me. I….no…Gray Silhouette frightened them. Larry obviously knew of the former Gray Silhouette. He knew the myths and stories of the masked vigilante. When he encountered me as the Gray Silhouette…he could barely speak. This was going to be easy. But I wasn’t done yet. Two down, one to go. ……………………………………………………………………………………. “Bobby?” Calvin called out reaching the top of the escalator, his companions nowhere in sight. Calvin turned left and right searching for them. “Bobby! BOBBY!?” Then he saw Bobby. He slowly entered the HeroMart Store, staring up at the ceiling. Bobby, bound, hanging upside down, a chain tied to the store fan. The fan was slowly rotating, spinning the unconscious Bobby in circles. The Fan was obviously turned on for the dramatic effect of Bobby being tied to the ceiling. Next, Calvin spotted Larry, handcuffed to the store counter, his face bruised. “Ah crap,” Calvin hissed, backing away from the store. He knew the police would be here any minute, but he couldn’t leave his friends behind, and he couldn’t let whoever did this get away. “SO WHO DID THIS? WHOSE THE BIG SHOT WHO CAN TAKE DOWN A KID IN THE DARK?” He called out, his eyes scanning the mall. “COME OUT IN THE OPEN AND FIGHT A REAL MAN YOU COWARDLY PIECE OF TRASH! I’LL SHATTER YOUR BONES LIKE GLASS!” Agitated and impatient, Calvin began pacing down the row of stores, breaking window after window with his sledgehammer. “YOU WANT TO HIDE? HUH?” Calvin roared, swinging his sledge hammer down on a bench, breaking the wood chair in half, he kicked the broken pieces and advanced towards the escalator. “YOU KNOW WHY I THINK YOUR HIDDING? YOU SCARED!” Calvin let out a cry as something pushed him from behind down the escalator stairs. He tumbled down step after step, rolling to the bottom, the sledge hammer landing behind him. Calvin rocked in pain, blood trickling down his forehead, he was sure his left arm was broken. “You…freakin son of a...a…,” Calvin hissed, trying to pull himself to his feet, using his sledgehammer as a staff to boost him from his knees. Even the smallest movement hurt. “Oh you son of a…oh….Oh God…” Calvin limped towards his motorcycle, trying to swing his leg around it. “Duh…don’t want to fight like a man,” Calvin moaned, trying to push his motorcycle out of the mall doors. “Got to push a man down stairs. You…you afraid of me…that’s whuh…why.” The motorcycle fell to it’s side, dropping Calvin with it. Calvin let out another cry in pain. “Afraid?” I whispered behind him. Calvin twisted his head around, eyes wide, watching me slowly advance. “You think I’m afraid of you?” “No….NO! GET AWAY FREAK!” Calvin shrieked, swinging his sledgehammer wildly at me from the ground. I swung out my leg, kicking the sledgehammer from Calvin’s hand, and grabbed him by his shoulders. Calvin stared at me, his mouth hung open in horror. “You think I’m afraid of you?” I repeated, leaning in on Calvin. Calvin let out a shrill scream. ………………………………………………………………………………….. Agent Frank Boston climbed out from his black Sudan, his superiors called him at two in the morning to oversee an attempted robbery at the Super City Mall. He was in charge of a subdivision of the Super City Investigation Force or S.C.I.F. that dealt with locating and neutralizing criminal smashers. He was defiantly not the man you called at two in the morning for a simple robbery. Something big happened. Something his superiors wanted to contain. Boston didn’t like this. He felt this was a trap, perhaps he was going to be a fall guy for some mistake an important general or S.C.I.F. patron made, a sacrificial lamb to keep the guilt away from the wolves. His agency superiors made threats to him and his family when he went to deep into a black listed case on a rouge S.C.I.F. Agent, Mr. Black. Even though he left the case, he had a feeling a certain vigilante took that case up for him. Agent Boston was tall and close to the peak of physical fitness. He was clean shaven, with his dark brown hair, trimmed neatly to the side. He wore the S.C.I.F. standard gray business suit, along with the new Standard Anti-Smasher Energizer Blaster, hidden under his jacket in his side holster. The weapon was designed by Yercom, and then manufactured by Azimoff Industries. It’s main use was for dealing with Smasher Threats. Agent Boston’s face had a stretched appearance to it as if his skin was too tight for his face. His lips were pursed to be straight, his cheeks almost nonexistent. His eyes were covered with a pair of dark black shades; a small scar ran down the left side of his face. A police officer, waiting at the entrance of the mall approached Agent Boston, nodding nervously at the man. “Officer James Karloff,” the cops stated, saluting the Agent. The man was short, his uniform a size too small, his beard poorly managed, nervous, kiss up, perhaps even cowardly. The officer was an exact opposite of Agent Boston. The S.C.I.F. Agent took an instant dislike to the man. “What is the situation?” Agent Boston asked, walking past Officer Karloff, stepping through the glass hole in the mall entrance door. “We found these three Clown Boy Gang members,” Officer Karloff replied, motioning his hand towards the three injured criminals, drawing a small note pad out of his shirt pocket with his other hand. The Clown boy’s were already handcuffed together each cuff locked into the chain of another preventing escape. Behind the three clowns, a police officer with large wire cutters was trying to separate the binds. “Their names are Calvin Michael, Bobby Slyter, and Larry Brovski. They’re in bad shape. Rambling about random stuff,” Officer Karloff continued glancing up from his note pad, noticing Agent Boston wasn’t listening to him. “ And uh…sir?” Agent Boston studied their wounds, their hysterical behavior, and he began to realize what he was dealing with. “Did they tell you who assaulted them?” Agent Boston asked, approaching the three men. “Uh, Yeah,” Karloff replied, he hesitated, obviously the answer wasn’t one Agent Boston would like. “They described a man wearing a black ski mask, gray business suit, unarmed but a good fighter, kung-fu kind of jazz.” “Did they give a name?” Agent Boston asked, squatting down in front of the drowsy Larry Brovski. The Agent snapped his fingers in Brovski’s face, awakening the bruised man. “Uh….yeah,” Officer Karloff continued flipping hastily through his notes, almost dropping the pad in his clumsy hands. “It was…uh…Black Staccato or something like that. Wait hold on, I think I have it written down somewhere…” Agent Boston drew his face next to Larry Brovski, his shades tilted so the Clown boy could see the Agent’s eyes. Boston’s eyes had no color. They were film white. As if he to white marbles in his head instead of eyes. The sight was enough to make the hysterical Larry Brovski cry out in fear. “Who did you see?” Agent Boston whispered his eyes boring into Larry’s. “Uh sir,” Officer Karloff called out. “I think I found….” “Be quiet you, clumsy toad!” Agent Boston snapped at the officer, glaring at the befuddled cop. Officer Karloff pursed his lips, his face turning red in embarrassment and anger. Agent Boston turned his attention back to Larry Brovski and repeated, “Who did you see?” Larry was silent for a minute, and then he blurted out in a shrill cry, “IT WAS GRAY SILHOUETTE!” Agent Boston swore under his breath, standing up and drew his S.C.I.F. Model H.A.L. Droid out, and dialed in his twelve digit code, followed by the twelve digit S.C.I.F. employee code, and pressed the device against his ear. “This is Boston,” the S.C.I.F. Agent said into the small blue device. “Requesting a ‘Pick Up’ for three men for investigation at Super City Mall, Delta-43.” He put away his H.A.L. Droid, his mind working on trying to grasp just how complicated the situation was. Gray Silhouette, a vigilante…no…worse than a vigilante, a former S.C.I.F. Agent that left the Force after Clown the Jester murdered his wife. A great lose for the Agency. The man was one of the finest Agents they ever had. Solved every case put before him. His skills in espionage, undercover investigations, criminal science were unmatched. He was a master of disguise and exceptional at unarmed combat. The last few years of his career were spent infiltrating Corporal Bank under the guise of a janitor. Originally his assignment was to merely keep an eye on the mind reader Jae Birde. Since she could detect anyone’s thoughts, any S.C.I.F. Agent’s Position could easily be compromised. But not this Agent. Not with his control over his thoughts, his self discipline. Jae Birde was none the wiser. However, the undercover Agent soon became more interested in Corporal’s Account Funds. In his reports, he suspected that more than 75% of the Bank’s money was being used to fund a dozen or more criminal enterprises, which he believed were controlled by a single major Kingpin. Someone in the higher ranks of the S.C.I.F. told him to stop looking into Bank Funds and focus on watching Jae. The S.C.I.F. Agent wanted to continue his research into this Kingpin of Crime however he was shut down by the higher powers and relocated to a desk job. Of course any evidence he found disappeared after Dr. Insecro’s Antroids seized control of the building. By the time the Smashers and Super City Police Force regained control of the building, the leads were destroyed. Then, when his wife Rachel was murdered, the Agent left S.C.I.F. and when off the radar for a few years. When the stories of a masked man hunting down criminals and beating them to pulp began to spread, the S.C.I.F. classified him as either a myth or a low rank threat Smasher Threat. When Gray Silhouette brought down the Apocalypse Gang, exposed more than twenty dirty Cops that had been making illegal deals with crime lord Ajax Russle, and prevented an assassination attempt on the Governor, the S.C.I.F. assigned Agent Frank Boston to investigate the vigilante. Boston quickly realized Gray Silhouette’s identity due to studying the limited footage of the masked vigilante caught on camera. His successful results, ability to track down hiding criminals, and superb combat skills matched the missing Agent whose wife was murdered so many years ago. Immediately the Agent’s former apartment was bugged, with Agents on a stake out for Gray Silhouette’s return. However they never found him. His only family was his son that ran off earlier that year and because the High Tech Smasher Crime Fighter, Blue Gear. Agent Boston tried everything to hunt down the Masked Vigilante, but Gray Silhouette was always one step ahead. But soon the case was dropped due to more pressing matters, and for a while, the Agency forgot Gray Silhouette. Until the attack on the Super City Police Headquarters. It was believed that Gray Silhouette attacked the base, killing more than twenty law enforcements and S.C.I.F. Agents who were interrogating Jae Birdie. Agent Boston was one of the few lucky survivors. He survived the attack, with four broken ribs, a mild concussion, and an ugly scar running down the side of his face. The Gray Silhouette case was reopened, the vigilante was a level 1 threat. Although later evidence later showed that it was not Gray Silhouette who attacked the Police Headquarters but a vampire called Lady Zafara. After the Chaos Riots, it was believed Gray Silhouette was one of the millions that perished by the hands of Clown the Jester and Agent Boston was reassigned…until now. …………………………………………………………………………………. “Keep them here until my team collects them from you,” Agent Boston ordered, walking away from the police officer. “Hold on suit,” Officer Karloff called back, obviously resentful of Agent Boston’s insult. “These guys are coming with us. You have no jurisdiction here.” “Wrong,” Agent Boston replied turning around to face Karloff. “These three men have information that is vital for the security of the City. Now just do as you’re told and hand them to my men.” “I think you’re all bull,” Officer Karloff snapped back, advancing towards Boston. “They’re coming with me. I’m going to interview them at the Super City Police Headquarters, then when I’m done with them, I may let you have some time with them.” “Is this ridiculous display for the purpose of trying to give the impression that you are competent?” Agent Boston asked, turning to face the cop. “Or is it an attempt for you to show a stiff upper lip at real investigators? Either way, you are compromising an investigation. Which is something I cannot allow.” “Its called doing my job,” Officer James Karloff barked back, poking Agent Boston’s chest with a finger. Agent Boston glared as the pathetic excuse for law enforcement. He was wasting Boston’s time, S.C.I.F.’s time, and more importantly he was slowing the investigation that could lead to the arrest of Gray Silhouette. That was something he could not allow. “You say, you are doing your job,” Agent Boston said, his voice icy cold. “And this is me doing my job.” In an instant, Agent Boston drew his Anti-Smasher Energizer Blaster from it’s hoster, aimed at Karloff, and pulled the trigger. BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAACCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKKK! The small blue firearm emitted a thing blue burst of concentrated energy, bathing the room in a bright blue light. Officer Karloff let out half a scream as the beam connected with his chest. His body began to turn blueberry blue, his eyes widening, his hair standing up on his arm and neck. Suddenly his body’s temperature increased 500°, his clothes disintegrating. His cry was cut short as his body burst into pieces, blood, and blue colored fleshy material stained the tile floor. The other police officer busy with trying to cut the cuffs dropped the wire cutters, trying to draw his gun from his holster, panicing as Agent Boston brushed a blue speck of Officer James Karloff’s flesh from his black tie. Agent Boston pointed his weapon at the cop, his finger resting on the trigger. The Police Officer put his hands up, knowing he didn’t have a chance. “Now watch these three,” Agent Boston ordered. “Disobey and you will end up like your foolish, uncooperative partner.” Agent Boston placed his firearm back in it’s holster, walking out of the Mall. As he approached his sudan, his H.A.L. Droid hummed. He pulled out the device answering, “Agent Boston,” “What have you discovered Agent?” a voice asked. Agent Boston only heard the voice once before, the voice threatened to kill him and his entire family if he did not back down on the Mr. Black case file. Agent Boston considered not telling the caller anything, but he knew most likely the caller most likely already knew everything Boston knew…if not more. “Three witnesses claim they saw Gray Silhouette,” Agent Boston answered, whipping the sweat from his brow. “I already know that Agent,” the voice replied, an impatient tone to his voice. “I want to know your opinion. Is it Gray Silhouette?” “The scene and situation matches Gray Silhouette’s profile,” Agent Boston replied. “Though it could simply be someone copycatting Gray Silhouette.” “Yes….yes it very well could be,” the voice muttered, obviously not getting the answer or information he wished. “Interrogate the three Clown Boys and when you are done with them, kill them. I want this Gray Silhouette clone neutralized. And if it is the original Gray Silhouette, I want him brought to me personally…and I want him alive.” “Yes sir,” Agent Boston said, turning off his H.A.L. Droid. He climbed into his Black Sudan, and pulled out of the Mall Parking Lot. He began his drive back to the Super City Investigation Force Headquarters. He had a long night ahead of him. If this was the real Gray Silhouette, Agent Frank Boston was about to reopen the most challenging case he would ever have. But he was ready.

Clown the Jester -> RE: (HS) Operation R.E.B.O.R.N. (11/23/2011 18:10:49)
Chapter 3: Interrogations. The Super City River was a war zone. Gun fire, explosions, and screams echoing in the night sky. The Clown Boys, lead by Mr. Smiley against the Pirates lead by their Pirate Captain. The Clown Boys had positioned themselves in the middle of The Super City Bridge, shooting down at the Pirates. Though most of the time, they were positioned behind cars, trucks, and other means of cover as the never ending rapid fire from the Pirates ricocheted off the metal sides of the massive bridge. However when they did have a safe chance, they would return fire with their few guns, limited ammunition and inadequate weapons. The Bridge was 135 feet above the river, allowing a small group of Clown Boys to push vehicles to the ledge of the structure without being in the line of fire. The Pirates had advantages in numbers as well as superior weapons. At the moment the pirates were fighting aboard their motor boats, two pirates per vessel. One to maneuvered the speed boat, the other giving cover fire with their M60 assault rifles up at the Bridge, the bullets spraying across the sides of the structure. Mr. Smiley crouched behind an ice cream truck, leaning out when he had the chance and let out a short burst of cover fire down on the Pirate Speed Boats. His Uzi Machine Gun was not meant for such far range shooting. The spray of bullets struck the water harmlessly as the Pirates quickly reloaded their assault rifles and returned fire. “Where are Steve, AJ, and David?” He roared over the loud gun fire, ducking behind the Ice Cream Van as the van’s side doors was torn apart by thirty armor piercing bullets. “We need those guns they were supposed to steal!” “Mr. Smiley!” One of the Clown Boys called out as two speed boats began travel under the bridge in an attempt to get a better line of fire on the Clowns on the other side. “Two Pirate Ships got two targets! Aligned with the Bus!” Mr. Smiley nodded, motioning to a small group of his waiting Clown Boys. “Take them out. Quick!” Six Clown Boys moved to the other side of the bridge, trying to shove large school Bus, stationed in front of the ledge, over the side as the two Pirate Speed Boats drew near. The bus remained where it was despite the Clown Boys best efforts. They pushed as hard as they could, the Speed Boats almost in position under the bridge. “Faster!” Smiley ordered, storming over to the Clown Boys. “We’re going miss them!” “It ain’t moving Mr. Smiley,” one of the Clowns groaned, as his fellow Clowns tugged, pulled, pushed, heaved, at the bus; the large vehicle hadn’t moved an inch. “It’s too heavy! I’ll hot wire the bus and drive it…” “We don’t have time for this stupidity. Move out of my way before I lose my cool!” Mr. Smiley snapped, approaching the back of the bus. “I got to do everything myself. Worthless bunch of little girls. ALL OF YOU!” Mr. Smiley placed both hands to the back of the bus, shoving with all his might, his powerful muscles strained against the tremendous weight, sweat dripping down his forehead. To the Clown Boys’ amazement, their boss pushed the large vehicle over the ledge of the bridge. It fell down on the two Pirate Speed Boats. The pirates could only watch in horror as the bus dropped down on them. The two speed boats disappeared under water as the massive bus landed on their small ships. One pirate managed to dive off the ship as the large vehicle crushed the two speed boats, as well as his fellow crew. The Clown Boys let out a cheer, as Mr. Smiley returned to the Ice Cream Van. “Hey Boss,” one of the Clown Boys called out, making his way to Mr. Smiley. “I see AJ and Steve!” Smiley turned spotting AJ and Steve’s motorcycles speeding down the bridge towards the Clown Boy Gang. “Weapons,” Smiley demanded as soon as their bikes stopped. “Now!” AJ and Steve held up two large black bag filled with a dozen or so guns, lasers, and other bizarre fire power. “We lost Danny,” Steve muttered, his eyes solemn. “A Patrol Car pursued us. Danny’s motorcycle stalled and he fell off, into the path of the cop car. He was….uh…flattened. ” “A Pirate ship’s about to be in line with the taxi!” a Clown Boy called out, behind AJ, Steve, and Smiley. The Six Clown Boys quickly gathered around a small yellow taxi pushing the vehicle over the edge, dropping the car down on a Pirate Speed Boat. However the small water craft managed to swerve out of the taxi’s way, avoiding the car that splashed harmlessly into the water. As the speed boat cleared the bridge, it changed direction so it’s path was parallel with the bridge. With a perfect side view of the large structure, the pirate gun man on board opened fire on the small group of exposed Clown Boys. The group of Clown Boys scattered as the air around them was swarmed with a barrage of bullets whizzing by their heads. Two Clown Boys were hit. One Clown boy dropped to the ground, dead instantly. His chest covered in bullet wounds. The second Clown Boy had a leg wound, however the shock and intense pain cause him to not fall backwards but forwards. The Clown Boy toppled off the bridge, screaming, flailing his arms like a madman as he dropped like a stone into the river. His body momentarily disappeared into the water, and then his body emerged, face down in the water. The Clown Boys were silent, they eyes locked on the dead gang member before them. A pool of blood slowly leaked around the body. It was then when the Clown Boys realized this wasn’t a game. Not a stupid prank. Not mere vandalism. They were in a war against a force that greatly outnumbered them, out gunned them, and more training. Their eyes slowly refocused on Smiley, waiting for him to say or do something. Smiley stared down at the dead Clown Boy. His face betraying no emotion. His eyes cold as ice. “They won’t die in vain,” He whispered, turning his gaze to stare into the faces of his gang. “We will avenge them, along with the others that have fallen. We shall make those Pirates pay.” The Clown Boys nodded their heads, all still in a hushed silence. “WE WILL MAKE THOSE FREAK PIRATES PAY IN BLOOD!” Smiley roared, slamming his large fist into his hand. “WE WILL SLAUGHTER THOSE PIRATES!” The Clown Boys began hoot, the energy and life returning to their eyes. “Those Pirates think they have the better firepower!” Smiley continued, marching back and forth like a commander ordering his army. “But thanks to Steven, David, and AJ’s looting Boom-ingDales, we now have the advantage!” The Clown Boys began to cheer, hoot, and shout out as Smiley went on with his speech. He may have not shown much emotion, not much personality, but he had charisma. His men would follow him to Death’s Realm and back. After all, it was his sharp thinking, powerful speeches, and leadership skills that kept Micky, Calvin, and himself alive during the Trader Town times. Though his intimidating attitude, strength, and merciless nature didn’t hurt. “We have the best of the best weapons now!” Smiley declared, dropping his Uzi over the ledge of the Bridge as if having such a weapon was childish. “These guns are the weapons that the Smashers used!” Smiley took the large bag from AJ’s hand, holding it over his head for the Clown Boys to see. “Their little Assault Rifles are nothing compared to what we got in here!” Smiley continued, poking the trash bag with one hand. “Little toys to the real firepower! We’ll send every last of those little Party Store Costume Losers to the bottom of the river! Send them down with the Fish People!” The Clown Boys let out a single cheer, so loud that even the Pirates 135 feet below them could hear. “And where are Calvin, Larry, and Bobby?” Smiley asked, handing out the high tech weapons to his gang. “They should have been here twenty minutes ago.” “We didn’t seem them,” AJ said, staring down at his fallen comrade. “They may be dropping their loot off at the hide out. Maybe Steven and I should go to the hideout. Check to see if they’re waiting there. We might need every Clown Boy on this boss.” Mr. Smiley nodded, reaching a hand into the first bag, feeling it’s contents. His eyes lightened up as he pulled out a RPG Launcher, feeling the deadly weapon in his hands. He dropped the half empty bag to the ground; examine the powerful weapon with a small smirk. Steven and AJ quickly took their own weapons out of the bag and hopped on their bikes, speeding down the bridge. Back to the Subway. “Arm up boys,” He ordered positioning himself to the ledge of the bridge, aiming at a Pirate Speed Boat. “We just got the edge. Let’s send these Pirates some fireworks!” He squeezed the trigger, the rocket fired out, speeding down on the ship. The Rocket tore the small speed boat as well as the Pirates onboard apart. The remains of the ship scattered among the other speed boats. Before the pirates could even raise their weapons to return fire, Smiley had already reloaded his bazooka, as if he had trained with the weapon all his life. He fired again, demolishing two Pirate ships. The blast sent one of the flaming ships spinning out of the water, smashing down on another ship, the Pirates on board crushed by the heavy weight of the speed boat. The Clown Boys positioned themselves next to their leader. They aimed their ray guns, Plazmatrons, and other deadly firearms. Cruel grins stretched across their faces. “BLOW THE PIRATES OUT OF THE WATER!” …………………………………………………………………. “Alright Mr. Slyter, how would you describe his reaction time in his farce with Laurence Brovski?” Agent Boston asked Clown Boy, Bobby. “His speed? His combat style? The effectiveness of his attacks?” “He…uh…he was really fast man,” Bobby answered, his eyes staring down at the table between the S.C.I.F. Agent and himself. “He was like a ninja. You know? I mean, he was super fast.” Bobby was in a small interrogation room with Agent Boston, he was promised if he cooperated completely with the Agent; the robbery charges along with the rest of his criminal offense charges would be dropped. The Last thing Bobby wanted was to end up in a prison for fifteen years. He had been in answering questions nonstop for the last 45 minutes. The room was much different from the kind Bobby saw in Police Shows. There was no one way mirror, or even a Good Cop Bad Cop routine. This Agent was calm, patient, and even sympathetic. “Did he say anything to you?” Boston asked, comparing Bobby’s responses with Calvin and Larry’s. “No. But he…he did speak to Calvin,” Bobby replied, his fingers tapping nervously on the side of the table. “Scared Calvin up pretty good. He…uh…Calvin gave the guy info on our Gang’s Headquarters.” “And where was this Headquarters?” Agent Boston asked, examining his H.A.L. Droid, placed in between Bobby and himself. The small device was still recording the entire interrogation. “Come on Man,” Bobby exclaimed, waving his arms in desperation. “I can’t rat out my bros! I can’t! If they learn I’m a stitch they will kill me! Please! I’ll tell you anything else but that!” “As I said before, Mr. Slyter,” Agent Boston replied, holding up his hand to clam Bobby down. “This conversation is completely off the record. We are simply using your recollection of your encounter with the Vigilante known as Gray Silhouette to conclude whether or not the Vigilante has made a return. Rest assured, any information you tell us will not leave my Department and will be kept Top Secret. We are after Gray Silhouette. We have little time to be concerned with such trivial matters as a Clown Boy Gang.” “But if my boss finds out…” Bobby began, the corner of his mouth twitching in fear. “He won’t,” Agent Boston assured. “I give you my word that everything you say will be kept confidential. And if you continue cooperate as you have been so far, the charges as well as your criminal record will be erased.” “I didn’t think Cops could do that,” Bobby murmured, slowly shaking his head in disbelief. “My position gives me the capabilities to make such requests happen,” Agent Boston replied. His H.A.L. Droid began to beep softly. “I need to first clear the request with my Superiors. Are you thirsty, Mr. Slyter? Would you like me to get you something to drink while I take my call?” “I…yeah,” Bobby sighed, his mind confused. “You…uh…could I get some water?” “Of course,” Agent Boston picking up his device, pausing the recording session. He quickly walked out of the Interrogation Room, placing his H.A.L. Droid to his ear. “Agent Boston,” the S.C.I.F. Agent answered into the phone, approaching a vending machine and placed into a slot near the side his I.D. Card. He punched a button, waiting. “A situation has developed. An unknown target with vital information of Gray Silhouette has been detected. She is able to track Gray Silhouette, and I want to know how. If she has any useful information, bring her to me. If she doesn’t, kill her.” The voice on the other end of the line ordered. “She is a part of a well funded organization. A company that has access to high grade technology. Find out which one, and destroy them as well.” “Yes sir,” Agent Boston replied, pulling out a bottle of water from the Vending Machine. “Do you have any information on target?” “She is heavily armed, well funded, and seems to be able to track Gray Silhouette,” the voice said. “Consider her priority level 2. Her activities are not what interests me but what she has been in contact with. So many new factors added to the equation. So many new variables. I need that girl found.” “What has she come into contact with?” Agent Boston asked. “Is it a Smasher? Or Alien Life Form?” “No. Nothing so simple,” the Voice replied, his voice changing from the hard factual tone to pondering, as if he was having trouble explaining what the threat truly was. “Do remember the stories you were told as a small child? The fairy tales with strange creatures such as Dragons? Giants? And Moglins?” “Sir?” Agent Boston asked, unsure if he heard correctly. “The girl second priority. First is Gray Silhouette,” the voice continued. “My sources are none of your concern,” the Voice snapped. “Get to work and locate the Target!” “Yes sir,” Agent Boston replied, it took great deal to keep his voice unemotional and not bark back at his Superior. “She just left the former Trucker Gang Bar in Main Street,” The Voice said. “Start there and track where she is heading. Judging by her patterns and other data gathered by studying her methods I predict a 97.5% chance that she will be on route towards The Clown Boy hideout.” “Why would she…?” Agent Boston began to ask only to be cut off quickly by the other end of the line. “She is following Gray Silhouette,” The Voice replied. “After Gray Silhouette took down the small percentage of Clown Boys in the Mall we could assume he would want to neutralize the rest of the gang back at their hideout. Find where their gang gathers and you will find the target. And if you find the target you will have a 74.3% chance of finding Gray Silhouette as well. Now get to work.” “Yes…” Agent Boston could hear the other end of the line disconnect before he could finish. Agent Boston didn’t like his mysterious employer. The voice knew everything. He knew what people were doing, what they had done, even what they will do. It was very unsettling. Before the Chaos Riots he was only called by his Supervisor for a single occasion. A threat on his life. ……………………………………………………………….. Agent Boston received the threat while on his vacation at a first class ski resort. His third day at the resort, skiing with his wife while their six year old son played with the Resort Manager’s son back at the lodge. Agent Boston listened as the voice described with great detail the exact location of Agent Boston and his wife, What they were wearing, what hotel and room they were staying at, what weapons he was carrying, how many snipers were positioned around his family, telling how many of the sniper’s crosshair were on the Agent and his wife, telling where what part of the body each one was aimed at …and where Boston’s son was… describing the man who had a desert eagle pressed again the boy’s forehead. It was then when Agent Frank Boston knew the meaning of absolute fear. The voice commanded him to immediately head back towards the resort lodge. If he wasn’t there within five minutes, his son and wife would be terminated. Boston ran as fast as he could, kicking his skis off his feet as he climbed back up the mountain slope. As he ran he ordered his wife to stay where she was and remain calm. He ignored the icy cold air that stung at his face, snowflakes sticking to his coat and gloves. He finally reached the resort, his H.A.L. Droid still pressed to his freezing ear, the other end of the line quiet. He burst through the Lodge Doors in less than four minutes. As he entered, he saw his son, scared, bound, duck tape over his mouth. The boy sat on a sofa. Agent Boston couldn’t help but let out a cry of relief, seeing his son, safe. “Billy,” Agent Boston called to his son, running towards he son, trying to comfort the terrified boy. “It’s okay. I’m here, I’ll…” CRACK! Frank Boston felt something hard hit the back of his skull. Pain surged through his brain. He fell to his knees, his vision shifting in and out of focus. Boston looked up to see a tall muscular man dressed in a black tuxedo, black shades over his eyes, his dark black hair combed to the side. The man pressed the desert eagle against Agent Boston’s temple. “My employer informs me you have been looking into matters that do no concern you,” the man wheezed. His voice seemed strained, as if speaking was painful. “More importantly you have been looking into me. Something which makes my employer and me feel uncomfortable.” “You’re Mr. Black?” Agent Boston asked, his eyes shifting back to his son. “That’s what this is about? My investigations?” The man gave no reply. “Let my family go,” Boston pleaded. “If you are here to kill me, then kill me. They don’t know anything. Please don’t hurt them.” The man smirked, his head tilted to face Billy Boston. “You are in no position for making requests, Agent Boston,” Mr. Black hissed, grinning at the trembling boy and then turning his attention back to Frank Boston. “I suggested to my employer that I should just put a bullet in your head, and bring your family in for investigations. However, my employer has made it clear that my suggestions are rather trivial to him.” “IF YOU TOUCH MY FAMILY I WILL KILL YOU!” Agent Boston roared, hitting the gun away from his head with the back of his hand. Agent Boston leapt to his feet; swing his fist at Mr. Black’s head. The man reflexively caught Agent Boston’s arm with his free hand, and twisted it begin the S.C.I.F. Agent, securing the body lock by pressing his other arm down on Agent Boston’s neck. Agent Boston let out a cry of pain, then lifted his feet into the air, and pushed down on the couch before him with all his might, the force sending Mr. Black stumbling backwards, releasing Boston. Boston immediately pounced on Mr. Black, tackling the tall man to the ground. They grappled, both trying to gain control of the gun. Agent Boston’s fist struck Mr. Black’s throat, followed by a powerful right cross against the man’s chin. Mr. Black head butted Boston, stunning the S.C.I.F. Agent long enough for the man to palm strike Agent Boston’s forehead. The Agent let out a cry of pain as he fell back, releasing Mr. Black. Mr. Black raised his powerful firearm, about to shoot the S.C.I.F. Agent in the head. Agent Boston was able to knock the gun out of Mr. Black’s hand with a side kick. The gun flew across the room, out of reach for either of the two men. Mr. Black pulled himself back to his feet, raising his hands in combat stance. Agent Boston did the same. There was a brief second of no movement. Their eyes locked. Mr. Black leapt into the air, both feet striking into Agent Boston’s chest one by one with a perfect Butterfly kick. Agent Boston countered with an overhand boxing cut, his fist slamming down on the side Mr. Black’s skull. Mr. Black leapt backwards, recovering from the blow as well as get out of reach of Agent Boston’s fists. As soon as he recovered, Mr. Black swung his leg out in a round house kick. Agent Boston evaded the kick with a sharp duck under Mr. Black’s foot. As soon as Mr. Black’s round house kick failed, he immediately struck again with a counter round house kick, the heel of his shoe, slamming into Agent Boston’s chin. Agent Boston ignored the painful strike, punching Mr. Black in the abdomen, followed by an upper cut to the Mr. Black’s jaw. Mr. Black fell backwards, immediately pressing his hands against the carpet floor, lifting his feet into the air. Agent Boston was knocked off his feet with a low roundhouse kick across the Agent’s legs. As he fell, Agent Boston slammed his elbow down on Mr. Black’s stomach. Mr. Black retaliated with a palm strike against Agent Boston’s shoulder, pushing the S.C.I.F. Agent off Mr. Black. With the distance, Mr. Black leapt off the floor performing a triple back flip in the air. He landed on his feet, stomping down on Agent Black’s chest. Agent Boston rammed his shoulder into Mr. Black, knocking the man back. The Agent grasped Mr. Black’s leg and neck and hurled that assassin across the room. Mr. Black rolled as his body came into contact with the ground, rolling next to the Desert Eagle Handgun. Mr. Black immediately snatched the handgun leapt back to his feet and point the gun down at Agent Boston’s son. Agent Boston lowered his head in defeat and held up his hands in surrender. “I must admit I’m rather surprised by your level of combat,” Mr. Black wheezed, spitting out a loose tooth. “Very quick and rather effective punches. I might have to X-Ray my jaw after I finish with things here. You could have easily fractured it.” Agent Boston fell to his knees, blood trickling down his forehead from Mr. Black’s powerful kicks. His breathing was rapid, and short. His body exhausted and sore from the brawl. “I’m not actually here to kill you. My employer wants you alive. He says you are a fine Agent,” the gunman said turning the aim of his weapon towards Agent Boston. “I’m here to make a message. Don’t look into matters that don’t concern you. If you do anything such as this again, you as well as your son will die. Have I made myself perfectly clear?” “Yes,” Frank Boston replied, his eyes locked on his son. “Good,” Mr. Black hissed, placing his handgun back in it’s holster. “My employer wants me to inform you that your holiday break has been extended to next week as well as your pay been increased to compensate for your wife’s death.” Agent Boston was motionless for a while, and then he whispered, “What? My wife? What have you done?” “Exactly what I said Agent Boston,” Mr. Black replied pushing open the Ski Resort Back Entrance door. “I gave a message. Be back at work in two weeks Agent. Remember that you still have your son to protect. Goodbye.” With that, the man left. Agent Boston’s wife was recovered three hours later. She had been shot repeatedly. Her killers were never found. However Frank Boston knew who murdered his wife. Who orchestrated the killings. Mr. Black. ……………………………………………………………………………………. For the last five years, this Supervisor began to call Agent Frank Boston often for high priority missions. These tasks ranged from assassinations, espionage, destroying evidence, covering up tracks. Agent Boston wasn’t exactly sure he wanted to know who his caller was. If he did know such information, he’d probably end up with a bullet in his head. Agent Boston printed off a map of Super City with his H.A.L. Droid, pulling the brightly colored layout of the City, out from a nearby printer. The S.C.I.F. Agent returned to the Interrogation room door, rejoining Bobby Slyter. He handed Bobby the bottle of water and placed the city map in front of Bobby. “One more question and you’re free to go Mr. Slyter,” Agent Boston said, walking behind Bobby. “Simply point on this map where the Clown Boys meet and we will be done.” Bobby was motionless, trying to decide whether or not he should go through with this. Agent Boston placed a hand on Bobby’s shoulders. “The Clown Boys won’t know you gave me this information. I promise they won’t hurt you.” Bobby weakly dropped his pointer finger down on Brick Street. “We meet in this Maintenance Room in the Subway Tunnel,” he said, his voice shaking. “Thank you for your cooperation Mr. Slyter,” Agent Boston said taking the map off the table, his other hand still on Bobby’s shoulders. “You’re help has been invaluable. You have done your City a great service.” “So am I free to go?” Bobby asked his eyes wide with delight. “Are we done?” “Yes,” Agent Boston replied, his hand reaching under Bobby’s chin, his fingers locked around the boy’s neck. “We’re done.” CRACK! Agent Boston snapped Bobby Slyter’s neck.

Clown the Jester -> RE: (HS) Operation R.E.B.O.R.N. (11/23/2011 18:11:50)
Chapter 4: The Organization. The Mastermind sat at his desk, his sharp eyes darting to glance at the countless cameras that surrounded his lair. His finger tips were pressed together, his head bent forward has he studied the screens with incredible conviction. His cold calculating posture gave him an almost reptilian appearance. The man resembled a cunning velociraptor, watching his prey. However in retrospect, The Mastermind was far more dangerous than any cold blooded pre-historic carnivore. He had been sitting behind his desk, in the exact same spot for the last eight days. No sleep. Very little pause to eat. Only enough to keep alive. The Mastermind was use to working long periods of time with no rest. Sleep was a waste of his time. What positive effects that could be gained from rest he could find in a set of vitamins he created during his entrepreneur days. The Mastermind’s special design bowler hat that hid his location from being tracked by the powers of the Smashers was serving it’s second purpose of playing in his ears the delightful compositions of Beethoven, Bach, Mozart, Hayden, and other worthy masters of music. However such music would not distract him from studying Super City. However their charming presence was beneficial for such his work. His black tuxedo had become wrinkled from over wearing it. He could easily order a fresh suit, however he was at such a critical stage of his plan. He was preparing to make the shift from the secret observer and strategist of Skull Deep to a much larger role that would incorporate sixteen years of planning. Time was crucial. Every action or move needed to occur at strategic times. His pawns and agents needed to fulfill critical tasks. Strings needed to be pulled as the times arose. Plans, backup plans, Operations, agents, replacement agents, alliances, manipulating sides, deceiving the masses, were constantly being revised for the assured success of Operation R.E.B.O.R.N. With so many variables to factor and evaluate, being able to observe the stage of his plans was essential. Every video screen showed a citizen of Super City. Every smasher, alien, meta-being, vigilante were currently being watched by the Mastermind. Regardless what trifling securities they had placed up to make detection difficult. They were mere hindrances to a man with the intellectual gift that The Mastermind possessed. Easy to bypass and maneuver. So predictable, so easy to foresee their ignorant motions. Information. Data. Projections of event to come. The knowledge of the entire city was being absorbed by the greatest mind the world would ever see. Fourteen years, eight months, fifteen days of staring at these screens, his spy technology advancing further and further to keep well hidden from all. Lady Zafara, aka Red Death, was battling a Phoenix, the large burning fowl scratching it’s glistening talons clawing at her impenetrable armor. Her current character greatly contrasted her former self. To think five years ago she was merely a leader of The Arachnoclan, one of the countless little bands the Smashers were joining; now she was an operative of Ice’s organization. However it was not the girl that the Mastermind focused on but the wild Phoenix she was combating. The Mastermind could feel his left eye twitch. A rare occurrence. His eye only twitched when he didn’t understand something. Very very rare occurrence. Mythical creatures were flooding into Super City at an alarming rate. Even he did not know where they originated from. For now. The Mastermind was never in the dark for long. The girl could hold the key to this infestation of monsters. Red Death could be useful to him. However it seemed these beasts were not threat to his many operations and pawns at play. They were merely unknown variables to his equation. Variables that could be used to The Mastermind’s advantage. Just as the new Gray Silhouette could be used. The Mastermind turned to another monitor, studying the footage of the imposter playing the role of his father. The new Gray Silhouette was prancing through the city roof tops like a reckless monkey no doubt heading to Overlook Clock Tower to look down on the streets like a guardian angel to the city. The Mastermind pursed his lips. He could never respect Blue Gear as he saw the original Gray Silhouette. The boy thought he could fulfill the role of The Gray Silhouette? The boy may be able to engineer children toys and could best a cowardly lot of riff raff Clown Boys; but his mental abilities were nothing when compared to his father’s. Though even the legendary Gray Silhouette’s mental powers came up short when compared to The Mastermind’s, his determination and powers of deduction were admirable. The Mastermind had always found Gray Silhouette a fascinating subject. When the vigilante worked for S.C.I.F., he was the best of the best. Able to track any man, able to use strategy, planning and foresight to conquer staggering odds. Unfortunately Gray Silhouette’s gifts were so exceptional that it lead him into almost uncovering The Mastermind. When his determination and purpose was defined by the death of his wife, The Gray Silhouette was able to discover The Mastermind’s presence. He was the only person to actually foil one of the Mastermind’s operations. No one had ever stopped come close to stopping even the smallest plan of The Mastermind. No one besides Gray Silhouette. And to think such a great adversary was replaced by Blue Gear. Disgusting. However Blue Gear would still play a large role in The Mastermind’s plans. “The crime lords have arrived,” a voice behind The Mastermind hissed, interrupting the strategist’s train of thought. “They have all answered your call. Also, The Dealer wises for me to inform you that he…” “…has finished rebuilding Skull Deep and wises to meet with me, yes I know,” The Mastermind replied to the Ancient Darkness, his eyes still focused on the screens. “As for the crime lords, I will join them when I am ready. Have Overcast stationed outside Yercom and deactivate the facility’s security. His attack must be devastating and effective. It is imperative for maintaining my cover.” “I will inform him,” Ancient Darkness replied, about to leave. “Oh, Ancient Darkness, go and lay out a fresh tuxedo for me to wear to the organization’s meeting,” The Mastermind called out over his shoulder. “Appearance is everything in this game.” Ancient Darkness let out an enraged roar materializing before The Mastermind in a violent surge of black shadows. His dark form stretching over The Mastermind, slamming his two hands down on the desk with incredible force. “DO NOT TRY MY PATIENCE LITTLE MAN!” Ancient Darkness snarled, glaring down on man with hate. “I am not your slave! You forget your place mortal! I am Ancient Darkness, leader of The Ancient Evil Army! NOT SOME MAID TO LAY OUT YOUR CLOTHES! If you ever dare venture such a demeaning insult upon…” “You are blocking my sight of the monitors,” The Mastermind interrupted, glaring up at Ancient Darkness. “I have little time for petty threats from a defiant pawn.” “YOU DARE CALL ME PAWN, MAGGOT?” Ancient Darkness roared, his hands gripping tightly around The Mastermind’s throat, lifting the man violently into air. “I associate with you voluntarily. Unlike Overcast I have no need for you. I could obliterate your body with a mere thought. NO ONE, NOT EVEN THE MASTERMIND INSULTS ANCIENT DARKNESS!” “You want to kill me? Then kill me,” The Mastermind hissed through gritted teeth. “But we both know that upon my death, you will be one of the countless fools who parishes in the Final Clan war. Your guild is no stronger than any of the other alliances that fill this city. Go ahead and kill me, you’ll only doom yourself to the destruction that only I can prevent.” “FOOL! BOTH THE DRAKKONIAN ALLIANCE AND THE CHAOS CARNIVAL ARE AT THE WEAKEST WHILE MY ARMY IS AT IT’S PEAK!” Ancient Darkness roared, though his grip around The Mastermind’s throat lessened. “WITH BOTH DRAKKONISS AND CLOWN THE JESTER’S PERMANENT INACTIVITY, MY SIDE WILL DOMINATE BOTH GOOD AND THE REMAINS OF CHAOS!” “My calculations reveal quite the contrary,” The Mastermind replied, his voice changing to a mathematical cold problem solving tone. “Assuming the Spectator and the Harlequin remain neutralized as you hope, your forces would only be able to conquer 48.41% of the total Good Alignment.” Ancient Darkness listened in silence as The Mastermind continued talking. The Shadow knew it would be essential to remember every statistic the human said. “Of course that isn’t factoring in the fact the other side’s besides Good that rise against you,” The Mastermind went on, glancing at the monitors behind the Shadow being. “You would be forced to combat not only the Good Alignments, but the Neutral Forces that would rise up to aid Good when the risk of your attacks becomes great enough. I would predict the date of this alliance would be six to seven weeks into the war.” “And any hope of making alliances with other Evil Clans would be in vain if you were to kill me,” The Mastermind went on. “I would predict a 98.31% chance that the other Skull Deep Forces would declare war on your Ancient Evil Army due to your betrayal of the agreements we contracted eight years ago.” Ancient Darkness began to debate whether or not The Mastermind was giving false percentages, however he knew that human could make such accurate percentages and incorporate all variables. Ancient Darkness learned The Mastermind was never wrong a long time ago. “When the main battle grounds are established, HeroSpire and Skull Deep bases are reinstated, and you spread your forces out in key locations where Good, Neutral, Evil, and Chaos will defend, I calculate the following scenario. You’re forces would gain substantial victories at Aurora Park, and West Main Street against the Good Aligned Clans and Super City Law Enforcements, as well as the Fair Grounds in your farce with the Chaos Alignment. From there, you would attack the closest Neutral Stronghold that would be the most likely to be overwhelmed by your army. Most likely Market Street or Corporal bank, either case, you would have a 71.35% chance of victory forcing the surviving Neutral and Law Enforcement to retreat to Liberty Square where 67% of the Neutral forces would most likely be stationed. From there, the Neutral would be forced into defending the area from enemy attacks.” The Master continued. “However your forces would reach costly stalemates with the Good forces at your inevitable attempted assault of HeroSpire. You would also have a stalemate with the Neutral forces that would be positioned at Market Street and Corporal Bank. Within twelve to fourteen weeks of the stalemate, you would be forced to withdraw your forces from HeroSpire to defend your own fronts at West Main Street and fair grounds from invading Villain sides who would overpower your defending army. You would have a 54.41% chance of being able to withstand their attacks and push their forces back.” “Upon the withdrawal of your troupes from HeroSpire, the Good Forces would lend support to the Neutral forces at Liberty Square with an 87.75% percent chance of beating back your forces. Your army would be completely devastated in a desperate attack on the Skull Deep Stronghold. However with your forces either retreating or complete destruction, the Skull Deep forces would leave you alone to try and resume your siege of HeroSpire and a series of Military Bases that would be set up most likely along Super City River and Yercom.” There would still be a 45% chance that either the HeroSpire or Skull Deep clans might send a small portion of their army to finish what remains of your army off with artillery support from the Military. If such a scenario was to occur you would have a 36.05% chance of being able to evade their assault. If you do not make the chance, you would most likely be sent to L.O.C.K.D.O.W.N. where you would remain for a very long time. ” Mastermind turned his attention away from the monitors to turned his gaze onto Ancient Darkness, “ In short with other factors involving citizen riots, outside meta humans becoming involved in the war, as well as the statistics I just made, you have a 12.23% percent chance of winning the Clan war. Of course, I made these percentages bearing in mind that when the war would occur you would have the knowledge I just shared or the 100% chance that I would have a line of defense set up that could neutralize you before your attacks could even graze my skin.” “I…you…There’s no way you…you could predicted all of that!” Ancient Darkness stammered, shaking his head in amazement. “You’re bluffing! You wouldn’t be able to guess the actions of all those sides. There’s no way you could…could…NO! I don’t believe you! You’re nothing but a human! You can’t see the future! You can’t…you can’t read minds! How could you possible make such accurate percentages?” “Do you doubt my predictions?” The Mastermind asked, raising an eyebrow. His voice cool. Calm. In control. “Do you really think you can win the Clan Wars without my aid?” Ancient Darkness sighed in defeat. He wasn’t sure if he believed The Mastermind or not. He would allow The Mastermind to live as long as he was still useful to Ancient Darkness. However…when The Mastermind had fulfilled his purpose to Ancient Darkness, or made a mistake that would make Ancient Darkness question The Mastermind’s reliability…well…that would be a different story. “Do you doubt my predictions?” The Mastermind repeated, his cold crafty eyes narrowing. “No,” Ancient Darkness answered. “Then stop wasting my time and lay out my tuxedo,” The Mastermind snapped. “Go, get out of my sight.” Ancient Darkness slowly lowered The Mastermind to the ground; the shadow’s body flew over the Mastermind, about to leave the strategist’s study. “One more thing shadow,” The Mastermind called over his shoulder at Ancient Darkness. “If you ever again dare to touch me, or disobey my orders; I will do to you what I did to Clown the Jester, Gray Silhouette, and Pandora.” …………………………………………………………………………………………………………….. Eight figures entered a small conference room that was constructed under the rebuilt Skull Deep. In order to enter the room one needed to enter an unmarked cave within the reengineered skull that supported the city of Skull Deep. Once in the cave, one would need to find the well hidden key pad that had a 48 digit code. Once all the numbers were entered, an elevator door that was camouflaged to blend in with the rock would open. Once inside the elevator, 235 voice, eye recognizer, speech recognizers, motion detectors, thermal, radiation, and heart beat scanners would verify the subject’s identity and would descend to the single roomed base in the very heart of Skull Deep. Securities around the room prevented it from being picked up on radars, metal detectors, heat scanners, x-ray vision, and other spy detection devices as well as make impossible to enter through teleportation, or phasing through walls. The entire room was indestructible with it’s own oxygen source. A perfect room that no one could find unless they knew of it’s existence. And only the people the Mastermind wanted to know, knew of it’s existence. They took their designated seats at the large conference table. The room was small, the walls completely soundproof, with a five inch layer of lead lining covering the nearly indestructible metal that made up the floor ceiling and walls. They sat in silence. Some drumming their fingers against the table as they waited. Some fighting with a contraption they were building in their spare time. Some sitting motionless like statues. They continued to wait impatiently as Ancient Darkness joined them. Nine of the Skulldeep’s most powerful villains all gathered together to be audience to the force that unofficially controlled all of Skulldeep. 1. Ancient Darkness, the Shadow Being and leader of the Ancient Evil Army. 2. Hottica, the unstable pyromaniac smasher with the power to create and manipulate fire. 3. Rocker, leader of the Shadows Clan, considered the symbol of all that is evil. 4. Dr. Insecro, an insect like humanoid that robbed Corporal Bank with an army of robot Antdroids. 5. Luigi DaVinci, a mad inventor that used an army of Killbots to seize control of Aurora Park. 6. Star Screamer, the psychopathic leader of the Reapers. 7. Lokos, a trickster entity that brings panic and mayhem wherever he goes. 8. Charries, the collector of rare artifacts and leader of the organization known as B.U.N.N.I.E.S. 9. Shadowlord9k, a being with the powers to temporarily neutralize the powers of any smasher or meta-being. After twenty minutes of silence, The Mastermind finally entered the room wearing his new fine press tuxedo. As he entered, he pulled out from his pants pocket a small remote pressing one of the buttons. The sound of heavy metal locking into place from behind The Mastermind, signaled the only doors into this meeting were sealed. Outside of the gathered crime lords, no one would know this meeting ever occurred. No one. The Mastermind placed the remote back in his pocket, taking his seat at the head of the table. “Gentlemen and lady,” The Mastermind greeted, tipping his bowler hat to his audience politely. “Thank you for making this meeting on such short notice and apologize for not making contact in such a long period of time. Factors and other affairs made it quite impossible for use to meet. I am glad you all were able to survive the Chaos Riots and The Rise of Modo.” “What of the rumors that are spreading around?” Charries asked The Mastermind, urgently. “Is it true that Gray Silhouette has returned? How will that affect our plans?” “Immensely,” The Mastermind answered, his eyes narrowing in contemplation. “With the detective’s sudden appearance, our Operations are all at risk. However, I have two specialists in mind to deal with Gray Silhouette. They are both well equipped for the task and are willing to do whatever it takes to succeed. I believe they have the best chance of being able to locate Gray Silhouette as well as neutralize him permanently.” “What if they fail?” Dr. Insecro asked. “You sent several of your Agents to kill Gray Silhouette over the years and none of them came even close to finishing the job.” “The two specialists are perfect for the task,” The Mastermind assured. “When compared to Gray Silhouette, they both posses the same levels of agility, combat training, cunning, and determination that the detective possesses. However in the event they should fail, I will send Agent Syrena deal with Gray Silhouette, and she will not fail.” “What if he figures out what we are planning?” Rocker questioned. “Then the one of you that betrays our organization’s plans to Gray Silhouette will suffer rather upsetting consequences. Such Ajax Russle found when he betrayed our plans to Gray Silhouette seven years ago,” The Mastermind threatened. “As long as we keep our organization a secret, it will be impossible for even Gray Silhouette to unravel our purposes. Enough concerns about Gray Silhouette. We have survived his threats, Modo’s Advent, and even the Chaos Riots. Now that we have repaired the damages of the Harlequin’s madness and Skull Deep has been rebuilt, we can continue our…” “What about Purple?” Hottica snapped, her eyes flickering in rage and suspicion. “Did he survive? Huh? He’s dead. Does that mean we could still be at risk? HUH? You claim to be such a smart guy but you didn’t see this Chaos Riot coming! SKULL DEEP WAS PRACTICALLY DESTROYED AND ALL THE VILLAINS WERE NEARLY WHIPPED OUT! YOU CALL THAT SURIVING?” “Yeah, and how did you not know the Chaos Riots would occur? I was nearly torn apart by clowns! How did you not see that coming?” DaVinci asked, banging his fist against the table in anger. “How could you predict that I would win the War in the Park, calculate the number of days it would take, how many of my Killbots would be destroyed, and know about Demolicious’s attempt to sell the Malachite to pay for her sick father and not know that, THAT FREAK Clown the Jester would nearly blow up the entire city?” “Ah but I did know that the Chaos Riots would occur,” The Mastermind replied, placing his elbows on the table, pressing his hands together, and placing his chin on his hands. “If fact, I organized for Overcast to give the Harlequin a sample of malachite, knowing that the Harlequin would use the malachite to cause as much of his chaos and mayhem as possible.” The other villains let out a cry of anger and shock. “Are you serious?” Dr. Insecro cried out. “What could have possessed you to give the Clown malachite?” “I knew the Harlequin would kill 68% of the Smashers and cripple the City,” The Mastermind answered his pail face darkening with dislike of the subject. “I admit it was a rather dangerous move. The Harlequin was never easy to predict but I knew he could accomplish several tasks in a matter of days that would have taken us seven years, five months, and twelve days. I’m afraid we just don’t have that time. I made my choice, and I will live with it’s consequences. However, rest assured gentlemen, I am done with that lunatic.” “If the malachite can enhance the powers of a smasher, why not give it to one of us?” Lokos hissed tilting his horrific nightmare helmet in puzzlement. “With such powers I could create madness and destruction tenfold what that lowly Jester could create. I could slaughter the Heroes with ease…EVEN THAT MEDDLESOME DEMI-GOD AERITH! He dared to humiliate Lokos! Hiding under the disgraceful title of Thundersmite. BAH! With the powers that Harlequin possessed I would hurl his shattered body into Tartarus where he would suffer for all eternity!” “The Malachite is incompatible with any of you. The malachite source can only be extracted from the mineral by a very rare percentage. Extremely rare. I found as much from experimentations with the Malachite energy DaVinci extracted from Aurora Park. I discovered the energy surge that Pandora released upon her death had a different energy signature to the malachite energy her head piece emitted. As far as I know, only four organisms on this planet could absorb the Malachite energy without it being transferred from a living host. Pandora, Clown the Jester, The Foe, and possibly Drakkoniss. It is worthless to anyone else,” The Mastermind explained to Lokos. “And even if it was compatible for you Lokos, instead of Clown the Jester dying at the end of the Chaos Riots, it would have been you. Thus Clown the Jester was the only logical choice.” “Funny choice for you to make Mastermind,” Star Screamer hissed, the slits of his eyes narrowing, hidden under black hood that concealed his face. “I thought you of all people would be the most unwilling to use Clown the Jester. You feared him didn’t you? Feared him for his unpredictable nature. You must fear the unknown. Don’t you? Am I right Mastermind? Know I am.” “If I was to pick a fear Star Screamer than I would gladly accept Xenophobe. I would have so little to fear, since there is so little I do not know,” The Mastermind replied, glaring at the fear monger with cold dislike. “As I already mention, Clown the Jester’s moves are difficult to predict, but not impossible. When an unpredictable variable is present in the equation, it is sometimes as easy to manipulate as the predictable variable. The unpredictable variant is reliable in the sense it will always do the unexpected. Even Chaos follows a small pattern of order.” “Did you expect the Clown to destroy Skull Deep?” Rocker demanded, his eyes shaking in disbelief. “The scenario did cross my mind,” The Mastermind confessed. “Since the Harlequin’s transformation occurred just outside of the Villain Outpost, he would obviously test his new powers on Skull Deep due to the base’s representation of all the Evil Alignment. It was a necessary lose. The destruction of Skull Deep allowed for me to set up a new series of contracts with The Dealer for the rights of rebuilding the villain base. I also gained Overcast as another Agent for my organization.” “You broke the deal we made seven years ago,” Charries said, pointing his finger at the Mastermind in accusation. “We agreed that you would discuss any plans or operations with us ahead of time.” “I am well aware of it, collector,” The Mastermind scoffed, waving his hand in dismissal of the accusation. “With the exception of Lokos and Star Screamer, you all would never agree to the Operation even with it’s importance for everything we have worked so hard for. So I decided to carry out the necessary precautions without your consent.” Ancient Darkness and Shadowlord9k sat in silence as Mastermind was barraged by the demands and questions of the other villains. Every now and then the two would make eye contact. It was obvious the two hated each other. Argued with one another none stop. It was their full control that held them back. “You can’t just break the agreement we made,” Charries said angrily. “If we are to follow the deal so should you.” “Incorrect Charries, when I break an agreement we made, it is for the good of our organization,” The Mastermind replied, taping his fingers in irritation. “When you all break our deals, it is for selfish intent. Even if I did break the compromise, I don’t follow the same risks of being a part of this organization as the rest of you. So if I decide to give Clown the Jester a piece of malachite, the rest of you should not question my actions. You all know what we have at stake; you all know what the prize for success is.” “MY BROTHER DIED IN THOSE CHAOS RIOTS YOU IDIOT!”Hottica screamed in rage. “He was in L.O.C.K.D.O.W.N. when it happened! The entire building was CRUSHED by Herospire when it collapsed! ALL BECAUSE OF YOU!” The pyro-smasher’s body burst into violent flames. She leapt onto the table, creating a ball of fire in her hands. “Sit down Hottica before you set this entire place on fire,” Charries called out, trying to calm the uncontrollable Hottica. “SHUT UP CHARRIES! I’M GOING TO TURN THIS SMOOTH TALKING MURDERER INTO A PILE OF ASHES!” Hottica screamed, her eyes blazing with fury. “Don’t be a fool Hottica,” The Mastermind scowled, pulling from his tuxedo pocket a small plastic oxygen mask and leisurely securing it over his face. “Retake your seat this instant or I will be forced to take extreme measures.” “HA! You don’t scare me four eyes! YOUR NOTHING WITHOUT US!” Hottic snarled pulling back her hand about to hurl the ball of fire down on The Mastermind. “Without us to protect you, your at the mecry of the world! ALL BRAINS AND NO BRAWN!” The other villains watched on in silence. “I may not have the Smasher mutation but I have to gifts which surpass your pathetic firecracker tricks,” The Mastermind replied through his mask, pulling back out his remote. “I have the gift of a mind at it’s true full potential, and I have self control. An attribute I would just suggest investing in the latter of the two.” “ARE YOU SAYING I LACK SELF CONTROL?!?” Hottica screamed, sparks flickering off her fiery red hair. “I am also saying you an ignorant simpleton,” The Mastermind corrected, pressing a button on the remote. “Oh, I suggest you get off the table before you fall off. You have an 95.17% chance of having a concussion when you topple off.” “BURN! I’LL BURN YOU LIKE PAPER!” Hottica roared, hurling a ball of fire at the Mastermind. As the ball of fire drew towards the Mastermind’s it’s size instantly began to diminish until it was completely extinguished. The room became instantly quite. Hottica was the first to feel it. She realized she wasn’t breathing. Her lungs ached for air, the flames covering her body slowly extinguished. After a few moments she suddenly fainted, falling off the conference table and landing on her head as The Mastermind had predicted. The others began to gasp as well, grasping their throats with their hands as if an invisible force was strangling their necks. They were being suffocated. Dr. Insecro fell out of his chair crawling desperately towards the air tight doors. Shadowlord9k sat back in his seat, eyes closed in deep concentration. Charries struggled to remove his helmet toppling off his seat. “Whah…what are you duh…dru…doing Mastah…Mastermuh…mind?” DaVinci wheezed his eyes wide in alarm. “I removed all the oxygen from the room,” The Mastermind replied, breathing calmly into his oxygen mask. “As well as effectively neutralize our obstreperous Hottica. Without oxygen, Ms. Hottica is incapable of maintaining a flame let alone threaten me. Rest assured, the oxygen will return in exactly twenty seconds.” The Mastermind was true to his word; soon the villains could breathe again. They took in death breaths of air, breathing hard, shaken, but unharmed. With the exception of Hottica who was still unconscious from her concussion. “ARE YOU CRAZY MASTERMIND?!” Charries cried out, the effects of the lack of oxygen causing his to stumble back to his seat. “YOU COULD HAVE KILLED US!” “She threatened to kill me,” Mastermind replied in defense. “I have to protect myself.” “Is she going to be…” Dr. Insecro began to ask. “Yes she will be fine. She will wake up in a couple of hours with a slight head ache,” The Mastermind snapped impatiently. “We have more pressing matters. I have answered enough of your questions. It’s time we get to work.” “What’s the job?” Shadowlord9k asked. “With the reconstruction of Super City, we have the perfect opportunity to strike. I have a new Operation coming up soon that will finally ensure victory for our side,” The Mastermind replied. “All I need to complete my plan is for each one of you to attack a certain strategic target to weaken the Herospire Smashers. After I assign your respective missions, one of you will need to inform Hottica of her task when she awakens.” “If we are successful at our missions, will we finally be unstoppable?” Ancient Darkness asked with growing excitement. “Yes Ancient Darkness,” The Mastermind answered, smiling with a certain satisfaction of knowing how close he was to achieving his true purpose to his long crusade. “If we are able to achieve our preparations by tomorrow night we will ensure that the Herospire Heroes will fall in the Clan Wars, and The Skull Deep Villains will be victorious. We will soon be in control of everything gentlemen. Summon your armies, gentlemen. The Final Operation is at hand.”

Clown the Jester -> RE: (HS) Operation R.E.B.O.R.N. (12/4/2011 10:04:16)
Chapter 5: Return to the Raging Inferno I crouched on the back of a stone Gargoyle, studying the City bellow me. I could still hear the cheers, happy time music, and fun of the Reopening of Super City Celebrations echoing from the Fair Grounds. I pulled out my high powered binoculars, training my sight down on the Fun Fair. I could see the never ending crowd of people, enjoying life. I zoomed in on one of the many Roller Coasters, the occupants screaming with excitement, everyone happy. Happy to be alive, to be back in their homes, to be a city once again. I could not share their happiness. I knew there was nothing to celebrate. This city was still a haven for criminals. The Clown’s madness might have ended but not his Chaos Carnival. His lieutenants still plagued the cities, forming their own gangs, trying to gain control of the Harlequin’s former territories. I could well imagine one might try to make a move at the Fair Grounds…however, the Smashers and Law Enforcements patrolling the fairgrounds would have to deal with such threats. Rumors said the Carnival was holding more than 750,000 people. A utopia for thieves, murderers, monsters and other scum. I could well imagine the sins and temptations that could occur within the Fair Grounds. I could finally see the filth my dad saw. It disgusted me. Made me depressed, but I still had hope. This city could still be saved. Gray Silhouette would save it. I turned my attention to the streets below me, focusing my binoculars on a figure who was hotwiring a Silver Mercury Grand Marquis. Rather expensive car to be leaving out in the open. Time to get to work. I placed my binoculars in my pocket, sliding over the head of the gothic Gargoyle, wrapping my arms around it’s neck. For a second, the feeling of my legs dangling in the air over an immense drop made me feel sick. I could feel myself beginning to choke. Don’t look down, don’t look down, don’t look down. My grip around the gargoyle’s neck began to give; I could feel gravity about to drag me down to the streets below. I wished I was still wearing my Blue Gear Jetpack. NO! Don’t be afraid. Gray Silhouette has no fear. If He could do it, you can do it to. I immediately turned my eyes to stare down at the world below me. No fear. No fear. I tightened my grip around the gargoyle, determined to fight my fear. I took a deep breath, calculating the speed of my fall, and my reflex time. I released my grip, feeling the inertia of the drop. Plummeting to what seemed inescapable death. My hands snapped out, gripping the sides of the large hour hand of the Overlook Clock. My body shook from the sudden jolt. After steadying my shaken nerves, I released my hold once again dropping down to the minute hand, my feet balancing on the side of the large hand. I hopped off the ledge plummeting twelve feet, my hand instinctively reaching out, gripping tightly around a flag pole sticking out from the side of the tower. I released my grip again, dropping another ten feet, wrapping my body around a large neon sign welcoming the citizens back to Super City. I leapt off the sign, landing on the Professor Smash’s rooftop, rolling as I landed to absorb the shock of impact. Despite the travel seeming complicated, the entire process was accomplished within 45 seconds. I chose the drop approach of traveling down Overlook Clock Tower for two reasons. 1. It was the quickest means of returning to the streets without alerting the car thief. 2. I would need to become more comfortable with such sudden drastic motions for the future. 3. I no longer had the luxury of using my Blue Gear Combat Suit’s Jet Pack to rocket to the streets below in less than 4.5 seconds. I quietly scaled down to a back alley, studying the car thief within the shroud of the dark alley. The car thief was not aware of my presence. I finally grasped the true meaning of my father using the darkness as a weapon. I was truly invisible to this criminal. He had no knowledge of me, even if he was to turn around and faced me, I would still be hidden from his sight. Hidden in the darkness, the shadows, and the pitch black. A silhouette within a void of darkness. I felt as if I was an intangible spirit watching it’s prey. He had his back to me, the front passenger seat door open. He crouched, reaching into the car, using a small screwdriver against the steering wheel. The Car thief was severely overweight and small height. He wore a black hoodie, jeans, and worn-out sneakers. His shape reminded me of a black beach ball. He was fast. In less than two minutes, he had already disarmed the car alarm, picked the car lock, and was almost finished connecting the wires in the steering wheel. I approached him, silent as a panther. Every step brought me closer and closer to my prey. I could almost touch him. I could easily take him down before he could even react. However, he could serve more of a purpose if I took him down slow. “I have returned to my city,” I hissed, imitating the voice my father used as Gray Silhouette. The car thief let out a shrill cry, whirling around to face me. His face was buried under a long messy black beard that traveled down to his waist. His hands covered in oily grease and dirt. “I have returned to the innocent,” I continued, advancing on the shaking little man. “I have returned to the wicked filth.” The man trembled backing away from me. He knew who he was dealing with. He knew of Gray Silhouette and what he did to punks like him. My father’s legend had not died. It will never die. I could see the fear in his eyes. The terror. I could see the man’s self loathing for his crimes. His guilt. “Hey buddy,” the vandal squeaked, a shrill mouse like voice. “I just need a car man, come on. I don’t want any trouble. I’m not hurting anyone.” “STEP AWAY FROM THE CAR!” I snarled in a voice so venous so inhuman, that it scared not only the car thief, but myself as well. The criminal stumbled back; I grabbed the back of his neck, about to bring him down when he hit the handle of his screwdriver down on my skull. I rolled my head with the hit to lessen the blow. My vision turned a bright red, my forehead throbbing. I let out an angry cry, my hand instinctively releasing the car thief to rub my injured head. The fat little man broke away from me, running as fast as his little legs could carry him. He ran into an alley, scurrying over a chain link fence. He stumbled out into the next street, his heart racing, his teeth chattering. He ran. In spite of his poor shape, the car thief kept running for a full fifteen minutes, running until he couldn’t take another step. He collapsed to the ground, his breathing heavy, but he couldn’t help but feel the Gray Silhouette could still be following him. He heard that the vigilante stalked a man half way across the world a few years back, never pausing to rest, never stopping for food. Surly if he could follow a man across the world he could follow a man a couple of miles. The car thief pulled himself back to his feet, quietly entering a nearby alley and found a large dumpster. He unscrewed the bolts that kept the locked dumpster shut with his screwdriver. After removing the lock, and shoving it into his jean pockets, the car vandal lift open the dumpster flaps, and climbed into the cubicle. He shut the door behind him, careful to not make a noise. The car thief waited in the darkness, surprised to find the dumpster was spotless. Though even a city couldn’t trash a rebuilt city in only a few hours. Maybe a day or two. He didn’t know how long he would have to wait. Maybe a few hours. Maybe less if he was lucky. He started counting in his head. At three minutes fifteen seconds, the dumpster lid swung open. The car thief stared up at me, his jaw dropped. He tried to stab his screwdriver into me. I easily caught his wrist, twisting it painfully behind his back. The car thief let out a screech of pain, reflexively dropping the screwdriver. I caught it in my hand and deposited the tool in my pocket. The little man squirmed in my grasp as I removed my tracking bug from the back of his neck. He never realized I planted it on his neck when he ran off earlier; it was a nice touch to let him have such a long head start and then find his seemingly untraceable hiding spot. “If I ever see you out at night, I will bring you down for good. Regardless if your committing a crime or not,” I hissed and shoved the car thief back into the dumpster, pulling the padlock out of pocket. I slammed the dumpster lid over him, replacing the bolts, and pad lock. There was a short silence in the dumpster then the captive began to yelp in terror, banging his fists against the dumpster walls. He’d be trapped in there for the next six to eight hours when the Dumpsters would be unlocked to be emptied. It would be very unlikely the man would try hijacking a car at night for a very long time. He would serve me another purpose. Another criminal to spread the news that Gray Silhouette has returned to his city…and no criminal scum was safe. Regardless how extreme or minute their sins. I leapt onto the dumpster, scaling a small convince store. As I jumped of the roof, clearing the alley, wrapping my body around a neon hotel sign, and began to climb up to my next destination point. I leapt off an apartment fire escape, feeling an incredible surge of exhilaration as I felt my body flying over an alley, rolling as I made contact on the next roof top. I shot back to my feet, sprinting towards the edge of the next building, bending my knees, and leap off the roof top barrel rolling in the air, if I was to fail, I would face a fifty foot drop to the streets bellow. But I knew I wasn’t going to fail. I landed on the ledge of an office building, running across the roof top, hopping off the ledge, my fingers instinctively wrapping around the rain gutter. I slid down the murky green rain gutter as if sliding down a fire pole; my feet reached the cement sidewalk. My heart racing, feeling the adrenaline. My first night, and I already prevented a robbery, struck fear in the hearts of the criminals, and I was about to take down the entire Clown Boy gang at their hideout at the equipment supply room in Subway tunnel #3. The information came from my questioning Clown boy Calvin all it took was a little intimidation. From what I gathered from my hacking into The Super City Police Computer Database, The Clown Boy Gang was made up of at least 17 members. They varied between the ages of 15-28. The Criminal Records of the members varied from Vandalism and Disturbing the Peace all the way to Armed Robbery and Conspiracy of Murder. Their scores were small, low weaponry, little to no funding. Stealing $200 was considered a big score to them. Their Gang leader was Stafford Galosei, aka Brick House Galosei, aka Mr. Smiley. I approached the Subway Entrance, making my way down the underground stairwell, my senses alert to even the slightest noise. The overhead lights were off. I entered the Lobby, hopping down to the Subway Tracks. I pulled out my father’s flashlight and silently began to make my way down the tunnel, careful to examine the walls, floor and ceiling. As I shined the light down at the ground and I knew I was on the right trail. All along the tunnel were small puddles of Brake Fluid. The kind used in Motorcycles. I shined my flashlight across the tunnel floor. I could already see the many dark skid marks made by the Clown Boys’ motorcycles. Deep within the tunnel I could hear the faint sound of heavy rock music. There was defiantly someone else in the tunnels with me. No doubt Clown Boys. I switched off the flashlight. Any light within the tunnel would be almost impossible to miss. A beacon to betray my location. I silently traveled deeper into the tunnel, my eyes slowly adapting to the darkness. As I drew near the Maintenance Entrance, I could see the faint outline of two motorcycles parked outside of the Clown Boy hideouts, meaning only two Clown Boys were in the hideout. Where were the others? Maybe the attempted Mall Robbery was not the only score The Clown Boys were planning for tonight. I knew the Heavy Rock music would drown out any noise I made. Plus the lack of lighting would make it close to impossible for two Clown Boys to see me. Without wasting any more time I began to enter the Maintenance room when the sound of a high powered L.A.S.E.R. weapon being fired made me stop in my tracks. The two Clown Boys inside the Maintenance room let out a hooting cheer, firing another burst from their weapons. From the sound of the energy discharge of the weapon, and the distinctive chemical odder leaking out from the Maintenance room, I concluded the weapon was an Oblivionator. My deduction was confirmed as my father’s Geiger Counter began to bleep in my pocket. Radiation. Great. I quickly switched the small device off before the Clown Boys heard the small beeping. Once again, I found myself longing for my Blue Gear Combat Suit. You wouldn’t catch any radiation trying to tamper with my body’s immune system on my suit’s watch. But I was no longer Blue Gear. I was Gray Silhouette, and Gray Silhouette does not have a high tech suit that could protect him from radiation. Something was very wrong. How did the Clown Boys have access to weapons as advanced as Oblivionators? They could barely afford normal firearms let alone advanced experimental weaponry like Oblivionators. “These things are awesome,” one of the Clown boys called out firing another burst of the Oblivionator. “Set up another target AJ.” “Yeah dude, do you think any of the other gangs got these kinds of weapons?” The second Clown Boy, AJ asked over the Oblivionator fire. I slid my back against the wall crouching low and peeking my head into the room. The room had poor lighting. Nearly as dark as the subway tunnel. I entered the Maintenance room, creeping in a silent as a panther. Through the darkness I could see the two Clown Boys setting up glass bottles for target practice with their weapons. They both had their backs to me. Perfect. “No clue Steve, maybe that Omnicorp gang. They always seem to have the latest tech,” the other Clown boy answered, aiming his weapon and pulling the trigger. The Oblvionator began to hum, charging up, until it let out a large concentrated green beam. The green beam obliterated the glass bottles. I began to advance on the two Clown Boys. I was sure I could take them out quickly without giving them the chance to use their weapons on me. “That’s not a gang,” Steve replied, studying the flame thrower in his arms. “That’s like a company, you know? A corporations.” “Their boss still recruits people to work for him doesn’t he?” AJ asked, searching around for another glass bottle. “That’s makes them a gang in my book.” “Alright, alright,” Steve said, jumping onto Mr. Smiley’s couch. “Hey dude, how much longer are we going to wait for Calvin and the others? Boss wants us back at the gang war.” Gang war? What gang war? I paused to listen to their conversation. Obviously the Mall was a side operation for the Clown Boys. The real action was in this gang war. But who was their opponent? And where was the gang war taking place? “As long as it takes,” AJ replied aiming his Oblivionator at another glass bottle. “And if we miss out on a gang war with the Pirates, I’m willing to wait all night.” The Pirate gang? The Police Crime Files did mention The Clown Boy’s never ending feud with the Pirate Gang, however the Clown Boys were always at the disadvantage in numbers as well as firepower. But with flame throwers and Oblivionators, the scales of power could easily shift sides. “The boss wouldn’t like it if are a no show for the attack,” Steve warned. “When he gets back from the river, he’ll…I don’t know…chew our heads off!” “Yeah, well the boss can’t be mad at us since we got him the Boom-ingDales toys,” AJ reasoned, firing his weapon. “Plus we’ve only been gone for what? Fifteen minutes? Better to be here than be filled with bullet holes. Now shut up, I’m trying to concentrate on shooting.” A mall robbery, stealing the weapons from Boom-ingDales, and a gang war with one of Super City’s major raiding and smuggler gangs? This was much more than settling a score, this was trying to take over Super City Crime Operations. I silently crept up behind Steve. Got to take him down without alerting his partner. As soon as I was upon him, I struck. I wrapped one hand around his neck, and use my other hand to smother a couch cushion over his face to prevent him from crying out. He tried to pull himself to his feet, but I pulled him back into the sofa. Steve struggled in my grip, dropping his flame thrower, trying to pry my fingers away from his throat. I tightened my grip around his neck, blocking off any oxygen to his lungs. Steve gave up struggling with me and began to flail his arms like a wild bird in an attempt to signal to his companion for help. AJ continued to line up glass bottles, and shoot them as target practice, unaware of his companion’s predicament. Just a little longer, I told myself. I pressed the cushion even harder into Steve’s face, carefully counting each second. After two minutes and ten seconds, Steve slumped in my arms. I instantly removed the cushion from his face and placed two fingers against his neck checking his pulse. His heart was still beating. Slow but steady, but he would live. I may respect some of my dad’s attributes as Gray Silhouette, but I refused to kill like him. After what happened to Ajax Russle’s son…the pain and misery in his eyes…I could never bring myself to killing someone regardless of what they have done. I carefully positioned Steve’s limp body back in the sofa, wresting his head on the arm rest. Who was I to decide who lived and who died? I silently approached the unaware AJ, my arms outstretched, reaching for his neck. One down…one to go. As I drew closer, I could feel my heart pounding. I kept imagining him suddenly turning around and blowing a hole through my chest with the powerful weapon in his hands. I was so close. The intense silence seemed too unnatural. I was positive he could feel it. The sense of danger. I realized I had been holding my breath. So close. Crunch! My heart skipped a beat as the silence I created instantly ended with the sound of breaking glass. I glanced down at my left shoe as it crushed a small piece of broken glass. It was true what they said, seven years bad luck. How could I not have seen that glass? Such a stupid mistake could cost me my life. The Gray Silhouette would never make such a fatal error. AJ instantly turned around, jumping away from me in surprise, raising his Oblvivionator about to fire. The weapon had a three second charge up, I couldn’t waste a moment. I wrapped one hand around the energy weapon, and forced AJ’s arm to point up at the ceiling causing the weapon to fire it’s deadly L.A.S.E.R. into the ceiling of the Maintenance ceiling. Three seconds recharge. Perfect. AJ struggled to get a clear shot of me, unaware that I would not give him enough time to fire his weapon. It was time to end this. I rammed my elbow into the Clown Boy’s face. AJ let out a cry of pain but held on to his weapon. The weapon was still warming up and if I couldn’t force the Oblivionator out of his grip, he could get a clear shot of me and fire. I head butted AJ, and while the Clown Boy was stunned from the attack, I twist his arm around his back. As I tightened the arm lock, AJ was forced to release the Oblivionator. As the weapon clattered to the ground, I shoved AJ foreword, causing him to run stumble head first into a wall. AJ collapsed to the ground, not unconscious but dazed. I immediately snatched up the Oblivionator. First thing first: Disable the weapon. A weapon as unstable and dangerous as an Oblivionator should not be left in the hang out of the Clown Boys. I needed light to disable the weapon. I walked across the room towards the light switch located next to the Maintenance entrance. I flipped on the overhead lights and drew out the screwdriver that I collected from the car thief earlier. Studying the weapon in my hands, I quickly went over a mental diagram of the Oblivionator’s functions parts and power sources. When handling a weapon as dangerous as an Oblivionator, it was wise to not rush through the process. However when handling a weapon as dangerous as an Oblivionator, it was also wise to quickly disable the weapon before the large amounts of radiation the weapon emitted killed you. It was as much fun as disabling a nuclear reactor without a radiation suit. Unscrew the weapon, pull out the firing pin, separate the Oblivion charger, and pull out the weapon’s core. New technology mixed with old. I deposited the Oblivionator’s core in my pocket, without the core the weapon was harmless. However the core itself was a nightmare waiting to happen. ………………………………………………………………………. I never liked the Oblivionator models. The weapons were originally designed by Azimoff Industries during the monopoly company’s weapon engineering phase. The Azimoff Industries Oblivionator Prototypes barley resembled the junk that I held in my hands. The Azimoff Industries Oblivionators were state of the art masterpieces. It incorporated breakthrough technology and alternative power sources that were not only beneficial to the environment but opened new doors in the fields of science. At first the government showed interest in the Oblivionators and were planning to buy a large order of the experimental technology. However, it seemed Azimoff Industries backed out of the deal and in spite of heavy pressure from the Super City Army, the Company planned to destroy the weapons until Boom-ing Dales purchased the rights to the weapon technology from Azimoff Industries and began to produce their own models. Unfortunately, their models were extremely dangerous, highly unstable, polluting knock off copies. They were a mockery to the glory of the carefully constructed Azimoff designs. The experimental technology became extremely popular among the Smashers during the Siege in the Park as did most of the early Booming-Dales weapons during the war. Instead of having to reload ammo and replace bullets, the weapon user would merely need to replace the Oblivion core, each one could fire two hundred bursts before needing to replace. The weapon had a three second charge up as it collected the required power source that was extracted from the weapon’s core and charged up in the Oblivionator’s charging unit, upon which it would emit a powerful burst of unstable energy. The weapon’s extremely accuracy within 15 yards of a target with different affects between inorganic material and organic. If the highly concentrated beam was to hit inorganic material; such as a stone wall, or the metal structure of a DaVinci KillBot, the beam would burn a hole with the diameter of two inches right through the obstacle. If the dangerous beam was to hit an organic target; such as plants animals or humans, the beam would cause disintegrate the molecular composition of the organism’s structure. Their flesh would be turned into a pile of green ashes. The weapon’s casualty numbers were devastating. Besides the countless people who were disintegrated by opponents during conflicts, the Oblvionators took the lives taken in accidents and mishaps. More than 250 lives were claimed by malfunctioning Oblivionators, damaged cores that disintegrated the user upon pulling the trigger, and sometimes the weapon’s charger would deteriorate from overuse and the entire weapon would combust in a devastating explosion. Not to mention the effects the weapons had in the long run. Radiation. Months after the war, the frequent users of the weapons were diagnosed with terminal radiation poisoning. Boom-ing Dales nearly went out of business from the law suits and S.C.I.F. investigations, until Professor Smash purchased the business to insure the Smashers he trained would still have access to the weapons and equipment Boom-ing Dales provided. After the investigations were concluded, The Oblivionators were outlawed by the S.C.I.F. and Boom-ingDales was ordered to safely dispose of the weapons. The weapons shop was also forced to pay a large sum of money to the victims as compensation; however the victims of the weapon would not live long enough to receive the money. The Smasher Weapons store promised it disposed of the dangerous weapons. Apparently they lied. ………………………………………………………………………………………………….. I scowled, knowing I would have to decontaminate my suit and mask later, not to mention neutralize the dangerous energy core before it killed someone. AJ began to stumble around the room, disoriented from the blows to his head. He began to make his way to Steve. He reached down for a large metal object that was positioned at Steve’s feet. The flamethrower! I left it with Steve in the excitement and AJ was about to wield it in his hands. The stupid Clown Boy was about to create a flame in a small compact room that was filled with the foul combustible exhaust vapor that was released from firing a dozen burst from the Oblivionators. I repeat: I hate Oblivionators. “Stop you idiot!” I cried out at AJ, forgetting to disguise my voice. “This room is filled with a combustible gas! If you pull that trigger you will kill us all!” “BURN IN HELL, BLACK VENGEANCE!” AJ screamed pulling the trigger on the flame thrower. The entire scene seemed to happen in slow motion. There was a silence as the flame appeared in AJ’s flame thrower. I watched in horror, trying to get away as the flame grew and grew. AJ’s mouth dropped in terror as the flames began to spread around him. His burning face crackling like burn paper. The intense heat of the flame filled the room…growing…growing. The slow motion and silence instantly ended with the loud and devastating… KA-BOOOMM!!! The force of the explosion sent me flying backwards, hurtling my flailing body out of The Maintenance Room. My ankle slams against the doorframe, sending pain up my spin. My body spun in the air from the force. The world flashing with violent red and orange light. My body bounced violently off opposite subway tunnel walls, dropping me to the ground. I let out a cry of pain. My shoulder stinging from the contact. My right arm on fire. My ears ringing from the powerful explosion. I cough from the smoke filling my lungs. I begin to flap my burning arm, slapping it against the tunnel ground. I was in shock, unable to understand my frightening surroundings. Everything was wrong! WRONG! Where is Gray Silhouette? He could save me! FIRE! MY ARMS ON FIRE! NEED TO PUT OUT THE FIRE! I’LL BURN! FIRE! IT BURNS! FIRE! I watched like a stupid animal as the flames began to burn into my sick, traveling slowly up my arm. The flames burning up the right sleeve of my shirt and business suit. I continued to flail my arm around. Unable to think. Unable to reason. Madness. I was on fire! I began to scream in hysterics. The explosion, the pain, the adrenaline from taking on the two Clown Boys…it was too much. Way too much. My teeth chattered in spite of the intense heat engulfing my face from the roaring fire within The Maintenance room. I body shook violently as if in a seizure. My mind…something’s wrong with my mind! “Dad! I NEED YOU! Dad!” I called out in delirium, my eyes scanning the subway tunnel searching desperately. “DAD! Help me! I need your help! DADDY! Please!” I suddenly remembered: My father was dead. He died five years ago. I was alone. I was instantly back under control. My teeth stopped chattering, my fear instantly stopped, the violence before me began to die down. I pulled off my black business blazer and used it to put out the flames. After ensuring all other fires on my body were extinguished, I examined the extent of damage to my arm. Mostly first and second degree burns, some third. The ring in my ear began to die away allowing for me to hear the crackle of the growing fire in the Maintenance room. I gazed up at the Clown Boy Hideout as it was consumed in the uncontrollable flames. Pulling myself to my feet, I limped towards the burning the Maintenance room. Each step bringing renewed pain. As I approached the entrance to the burning room, I pulled out from my pocket a Yercom I-AC Pill and hurled the small capsule into the roaring fire. The Internal Air Conditioner Pills achieved their desired affect and extinguished the roaring fire within the Maintenance room. I gazed at the remains of AJ and Steve. They were nothing more than black charcoal covered skeletons. They were dead. Dead because of me. I felt a pang of guilt. Their blood was on my hands. I shouldn’t have left the flame thrower in the open for AJ to snatch. I should have thrown the I-AC Pill into the flame thrower before the flames could combust. I should never have lost control during the explosion. Crying, and screaming like a baby. The real Gray Silhouette would never have lost control. I remembered the day before the Chaos Riots. My father using his own body to shield a woman from a mass of flames. As the flames engulfed his body, he refused to loose control. Refused to let his fear and pain make him forget his mission. Take down the filth, protect the innocent. My father was able to do all that while his entire body burned…and I lost control from just seeing some flames on my arm. I pulled out my father’s medical kit from my suit pocket. Bandages, anesthetic, a small AED, antidotes to most known poisons and venoms, plasma, the tools needed for a blood transfusion, a portable oxygen mask, and other such medical supplies. As I tended my wounds, I thought of the gang war at the bridge. I would make a quick stop there, take down the Clown Boys and the Pirates…and go home. As I finished bandaging my arm and putting my medical kit away, I pulled my blazer back on. I began to make my way back through the Subway Tunnel, limping from each painful step. When I got home, I’d most likely have to do an full body X-Ray. Then…decontamination. Then…repair my Gray Silhouette suit. Then… BLZZZZZZZZZZRRRRRRRRRRRUUUUUUUUUUUUTTTTTTTTTTT!!!!!!! The sound of a powerful electrical charge echoed through the subway tunnels, followed by the scream of a woman. Forgetting the pain in my leg, I raced down the tunnel towards the source of the scream. As I ran, I could hear the sounds of a struggle somewhere ahead of me. What was going on? Who else could possibly be here so late at night? I didn’t need this now! However the matter was out of my hands. I came to the end of the tunnel stepping out into a Subway Platform, seeing the two struggling figures locked in a life or death brawl. The first figure was a tall intimidating man wearing dark shades and a gray business suit. He had brown hair, combed carefully to the side. Running across his face was a long jagged grotesque scar. The man stood with a professional, authoritative attitude. Not the typical attitude one would expect from a criminal. In one hand, he held an energy weapon and in the other, the neck of the struggling second figure. A pail skinned woman with long black hair dressed in a highly advanced crimson combat armor. For a moment, the Blue Gear inside me began to mental note all the features and abilities the combat suit possessed. From the extensive protection her armor provided, I realized she must have lost her helmet. After all, why go so far to protect the body if you leave the head exposed? And the man’s energy weapon. The design seemed familiar. It was a custom design model for a specific group. My brain began to whirl through a thousand blue prints of weapons I have studied over the years. The weapon was the key to this man’s identity. It was an energy blaster…but what division of energy blaster? The man pressed the barrel of his weapon against the back of woman’s skull snarling, ““Filthy mongrels! That’s what you Smashers are. Mutants. Creatures. Hybrids. Freaks….deformed monsters who terrorize the people. You will die…then your Gray Silhouette dies.” This was getting better and better. Obviously the man in the suit was one of my father’s old foes looking to settle a score. So be it. First priority was ensuring the woman in red armor would be safe, then I would deal with the man in shades. To my surprise the girl suddenly looked up at me, let out a gasp of surprise. Her sudden tension caused the man holding her to look up as well. “Gray!” The girl hissed in amazement. The man in the suit immediately threw the girl to his right in lost of interest, his attention focused fully on me. The pale woman slammed against the brick wall, bouncing off and landing on her knees. The Man’s nostrils flared in a combination of disbelief and hatred upon seeing me. There was defiantly a grudge between my father and this man. To what extent I would find out. “You…I’ve been looking for you,” The man in the suit said, pointing a finger at me with one hand, adjusting his tie with the other. “Step away from her,” I ordered, leaping up to the platform facing the man. “Drop the weapon and put your hands on your head.” “Funny,” The man replied, aiming his energy weapon at me. “I was about to tell you the exact same thing.” “DROP THE WEAPON!” I hissed as venomously as I could. “I’M GIVING YOU ONE WARNING!” “I don’t take orders from vigilantes,” The Man hissed. Well…obviously this man would not be afraid of Gray Silhouette. I just lost the power of fear over this man. I did not like this. Not at all. That energy blaster…what version was is? It had Yercom designs however the small logo on the side of the energy barrel suggested it was manufactured by Azimoff Industries. The realization finally dawned on me. Anti-Smasher Energizer Blasters. Designed for neutralizing Smashers. If I was to be hit anyway by that weapon’s energy...I’d be turned into a pile of blue mush. This was bad. I recalled the Anti-Smasher Energizer Blasters were designed for the sole use of The Super City Investigation Force, or S.C.I.F. “You’re S.C.I.F.?” I asked, tensing my body up for a surprise lunge. The Agent let out an amused laugh, replying, “Yes, yes I am. Impressive Vigilante. What gave me away? Was it my suit? My S.C.I.F. model Anti-Smasher Energizer Blaster? Or did you learn how to read minds?” “What do you want with me?” I asked him, bending my legs slowly, as if I was about to sit down in one of the waiting platform seats. “My name is Agent Frank Boston, S.C.I.F. Branch: Smasher Containment,” The Agent answered, as if he had already explained my question. “I am telling you this because it’s obvious you do not know me. Which would mean you are not the real Gray Silhouette. A dress alike amateur playing children’s games. Hmm…your costume is very authentic to the original man behind the mask.” I had to clamp my jaw shut to stop myself from gasping in surprise. He knew that I was not the Gray Silhouette…no…NO! I am the Gray Silhouette. The mantle has been passed down to me in blood. I am the Gray Silhouette! I am the Gray Silhouette! “You are even wearing his S.C.I.F. Business suit,” Agent Boston mused pulling his shades off for a moment to study me carefully. His eyes…they were a milky white. Like a white film draped over his iris. The eyes were staring into me…studying me. I felt as if he could see through my mask and disguise. He could see inside me. “Accurate equipment, capable of taking down three Clown Boys, moving silently,” Agent Boston continued, replacing his shades over his eyes. “Far to close to the real deal to be a mere copy. Interesting.” “That’s enough,” I snarled, knowing this was going to turn out very bad if I couldn’t end this quickly. “Drop the gun and…” “SHUT UP!” Agent Boston snapped, scratching his chin in concentration. “I’m thinking.” Suddenly the S.C.I.F.’s face lit up, a corner of his lips curling up in a smirk. “You must be his son,” Agent Boston reasoned, advancing slowly on me, placing his gun back in it’s holster. “Benjamin Creed, aka Blue Gear, the technology Smasher. How very interesting. You must be him. You match his height, and would be the only one with access to Gray Silhouette’s equipment. Fascinating.” He…he knew who I was. He knew my secret identity…he knew my real name. That meant he knew my father’s true name. Oh God. This was not good. I have to take him down, maybe…I don’t know…invent a device that would erase him mind of such knowledge. I lunged at Boston, hopping he would be caught off guard. CRACK! Agent Boston’s leg swung up almost mechanically. His side kick knocked me to the ground. Ignoring the pain I leapt to my feet, swinging my foot up at his jaw. He caught my leg in his powerful arms and lift me into the air. I struggled helplessly in his grip as he swung me around him three times and hurled my body into a Subway Ticket machine. The machine caved in from my impact, sparks bursting out of the sides. I dropped to the ground, dazed and injured. “Did you really think you’re pathetic low leveled karate could take down someone like me? I have been trained by the best! What training do you have? Your attacks are slow, lacking true power behind them,” Agent Boston said, standing over my body. “Pathetic. Simply pathetic. Your father would have put up a true fight. Maybe I should just kill you now. A quick death. Then I can savor neutralizing that vampire witch. It would be such a perfect way to end a hard day’s…” Agent Boston was caught off as the woman in red armor leapt up from the ground where she had been thrown, flying into Agent Boston with incredible speed. The S.C.I.F. Agent only had enough time to look up as she plowed both her feet into his chest, launching him across the Subway Platform. His back slammed against the wall opposite us, a good fifteen feet away, dropping to the ground. I stared up at the girl in disbelief. Was she a smasher as well? “And you are?” I asked, pulling myself to my feet. My should screaming in pain, my leg sprained if not fractured. “Red Death,” She replied, picking up her fallen crimson helmet and replacing it over her head. I turned my head to Agent Boston expecting him to be unconscious from such a powerful kick. To my surprise, the S.C.I.F. Agent stood up cracking his knuckles. His face curled in a snarl. He wasn’t going to go down so easy. I positioned myself in my combat stance, Red Death pulled out Positive and Negative Plazmatrons, aiming her weapons at the S.C.I.F. Agent. I wasn’t sure if I could trust her; however, in my weakened condition there was no way I could take Agent Boston on alone. “Fine then...” He hissed, spitting out a small stream of blood as he drew back out his Anti-Smasher Energizer Blaster. “Why waste valuable time? I’ll just kill you both right now.”

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