Bluetommy

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Mafia

I will play as Matches Malone, Matches Malone is a legitimate businessman, that's all I gotta say.

Legacy: The Fourth Reich [WWIII/Superhuman RP]

@Double Me too, It's back up for me

Legacy: The Fourth Reich [WWIII/Superhuman RP]

Watching from a standing position, Paul made no attempt to hide himself, simply watching with a keen interest as the two fought, the speedster slamming against the other man, who shot flames brighter than any he had seen before, these weren't flames, they were beautiful warm oranges wrapping through the air like ribbons, sticking to the ground almost magnetically before breaking and leaving paper-thin copies of themselves, and everywhere the German went the world seemed to warp, the flames billowing out into the sky before dying, consumed by the cone of pure speed. It was all too brilliant, too perfect, it almost disappointed him when another shot in, smacking the German across the face, in response, the speedster began to spin around and around, trapping the other two within. Listening when they began to talk, Paul noticed that they were speaking English, and without even hearing what they had to say, he came to the conclusion that they were Americans. Feeling very proud of his (Actually quite unimpressive) detective skills, Paul noticed the man with a torch on his chest gasping and coughing, obviously short of breath.

The hell? Does this guy have the power to take people's air? That bastard! Paul realized, growling and closing his hands into fists. Obviously, this Nazi was trying to murder good Americans, good Americans just trying to survive an unjust invasion, how dare he? Paul began dashing towards the fight, hovering an inch off the ground. It was his turn to add some of his own artistic vision to this fight.

The speedster was moving too fast to stop, Paul couldn't even see him, but Paul knew this fight wouldn't be about him stopping the speedster, it would have to be about the speedster stopping him.

He can't kill me, nothing can, but I sure as hell can kill him, I just need one punch, one blast, he'll be in pieces, I just need to lure him in, deck the Nazi bastard and send what's left of his head back to Germany in a box. Now I just need his attention, draw him away from what he's doing in order to ensure he focuses on me.

Paul had a punch hard enough to stop a charging horse and send the rider over his head, even if he was unable to stop the speedster with a single strike, it would almost certainly be enough to deflect him at least somewhat, and that was if the rider's speed combined with Paul's own strength didn't smash the man's head like a melon. If he was deflected, it would certainly make Paul the most dangerous target, meaning he would be the target as he wanted, and if the German died, it was all the better. There was no reason not to try, it wasn't like his arm could be broken, his unique physiology (or lack thereof) prevented that. Paul knew there had to be more sophisticated ways to do this, but there were also more sophisticated ways than the wheel to move things, and Paul wasn't going to go and reinvent the wheel, so screw it, punch it was.

Floating down to ground level, continuing in his move towards the fight by running, he twisted just as he was about to reach the yellow blur that grew longer and longer with each moment, throwing his right fist leftwards in a powerful haymaker, hopefully it would work.

Who was he kidding, unless the man somehow managed to plant his feet six feet away from Paul, he was going to get clobbered, and Paul would be pleased.

Star Trek: To Boldy Go

I've decided I'd prefer to drop out of this RP, best wishes to all of you. :)

Legacy: The Fourth Reich [WWIII/Superhuman RP]

@The Kid Lantern Go team Justice Men Force League Justice Titans Friends!

Legacy: The Fourth Reich [WWIII/Superhuman RP]

"Now, you're going to tell me where your boss is, or I'm going to reach down your throat and play Scotland The Brave with your lungs!"

Paul shook the man at arm's length, wrapping his fingers tightly around the German's throat and pushing his palm against his Adam's apple. The man choked and clawed at Paul's hand, his eyes opened as wide as they could be. He tried to yell something in German, but Paul squeezed harder at the second syllable, causing the man's arms to pull harder at Paul's wrist.

"In English, you commie son of a prostitute, speak American or I swear to god I will skip you across the ocean like a stone! You hear me!?" Paul shook the German roughly, loosening his grip as he did to allow the German to speak.

He glared at the German with yellow eyes, little suns, practically the only parts of his body left, and he didn't know if even they were real, he saw just fine, better than he ever had in fact, but they could just as easily be lies, lies like what senses he had left, he couldn't smell anymore, he was practically blind without a suit, and he couldn't feel unless he was wearing the suit he himself had created, he was much clumsier when he had first found a hazmat suit, unable to feel or tell when he was touching anything, thank god that his abilities did the work for him.

The German decided against talking, perhaps he was unable to understand, disappointing to say the least, though perhaps he was just ignoring him due to some training his commie bosses had put him through, damn communists, even the fall of the Berlin wall didn't stop them, what they did to the president was despicable, even if Paul hadn't voted for her, she was still the president of the US of A! Made him mad just thinking about it, time to blow off a little steam.

A small jet of energy shooting out of his left shoulder, Paul began heating his glove, the German's fear changing into bewilderment as the heat reached a comfortable warmth.

Then changing back as it got hotter and hotter.

"You've already got five varieties of skin cancer now, don't make me go any higher." The German spat in his face, his choking paired with a short smirk.

"Fick dich." He said, his words followed by the clacking of firearms being lowered behind. The German smiled smugly and motioned for Paul to turn around.

Paul did turn, crushing the man's windpipe as he did, throwing the now-dying man to the feet of the new unit of soldiers that had arrived. As the dying soldier spat blood into the air at ever greater heights, the soldiers barely sparing him a second glance, Paul waved his hands out to his sides in a dare, manipulating his chaotic energy into what could be considered a smile.

In a thick German accent, one of the soldiers, square-faced, blue eyed, well dressed, looking like he was the villain of one of those Japanese cartoons, probably a sergeant or something similar, screamed at him.

"Don't play hero, boy! Give up and ve vill treat you vell." Paul laughed.

"Hero? When did I ever say I was a hero? I'm here for one thing, commie boy, not justice, not for revenge, I'm here for the same reason every American on this goddamn Earth ever was, to have some good, clean, fat, fun, and my definition of fun, it probably clashes with your own."

In an instant, he was behind the sergeant, firing a pulse of his power into the ground to expedite his flight. As the Germans coughed and fired wildly into the dust-cloud sprung up by the shot, Paul landed and threw a punch at the sergeant mostly on instinct, smashing his fist into the man's throat and throwing him at least twenty feet. Chuckling, he looked at his hand, he hadn't expected him to go that far, it had only been a little bit since he first got his powers, he was constantly firing off when he didn't mean to, he had vaporized at least five people by accident, and that was funny to him, on some primal level, he couldn't help but laugh thinking about it. The sergeant bounced across the ground a further ten feet, finally sprawling out, his weapons thrown every-which way.

A bullet bounced off of his suit, followed by a few more, the remaining Germans shooting him in a futile attempt to stop him.

Gazing at the shakiest one, Paul fired a blast of his energy through his visor, detonating the soldier and blowing the right arm off of the soldier right next to him. Paul began laughing through his nose, raising an arm and firing a blast at another soldier, who was thrown into a nearby wall, leaving a red splatter and crumpling to the ground. Paul began cackling, firing another pulse at a soldier who had closed in with a knife, blasting off the top half of his head. One of the soldiers hid behind a wall, firing a full clip of bullets in a frenzied attempt to harm him, one of these bullets pierced Paul's suit, spilling irradiated air into the air, Paul grimaced a moment, before rushing over to the soldier, who he grabbed by the lapels and tossed up into the air, waiting a moment, he threw up a hand and detonated the man as he fell.

It was a warzone, DC, he was looking for the one who had done these atrocities, as well as whoever had made him, he had come to the city soon after learning of the Master Man's presence, someone who could perhaps give him answers as to who had done this, who to kill before raising the people in rebellion, it would be hard to find Americans willing to join him, or Americans in general, even now, he stood in a practically abandoned street, with only the last soldier of this squad still walking the place.

He had been the sniper, shooting from a distance, from the fire-escape of a totaled building, Paul had barely noticed him, and when he did, it was as simple as a look, and the metal of the fire-escape was destroyed, warped and burned with a fire so hot it melted the paint off of cars, the sniper was left with two limbs and a horrifically burned face, the entire right side of his body practically melted by the head, his scope embedded in his right eye, and then he fell, perhaps three stories, and was dead.

There was more shooting about the city, more Germans firing at his countrymen presumably, though there seemed to be more explosions coming from behind him, some kind of fire raising up higher than any fire had any right to, maybe it was one of those Nazi experiments, like the "Master Man", it was consuming a government building and expanding in an ever greater ring.

Sneaking over, Paul noticed two men, one moving faster than he had any right to, and another, covered in the flames that now consumed every building around him. They were fighting, though which one was a target was not known to him, he'd have to observe, which meant waiting, he hated waiting, perhaps one of them would give a clue in how he spoke, one of them let out something in German, or English, whichever one was Nazi would end up melted, and the other too if he spoke anything other than what Paul spoke, didn't matter, he'd kill whoever he wanted, it was fun that way.

Turning Gears - Fantasy Steampunk Nationgame

@Willy Vereb I'd still be interested.

Star Trek: To Boldy Go

@MiddleEarthRoze if you're not on the bridge you die! That's how it's always been, that's how it will always be

Star Trek: To Boldy Go

Oh hello everyone on the fucking site, didn't see you there.