The other man, who looked kinda like that American millionaire who had been all over the news for some reason, seemed to be doing something to the robot, though what it was didn't seem immediately apparent. Some kind of hex, maybe.
1 - Not American 2 - You can get the news in jail?
Perhaps I was a little unclear in the character sheet, but would you mind correcting this?
Hell's flames, that was a terrifying robot. A suspiciously human one too, what with its apparent sense of humour and the relish it seemed to take in its job. Some AI engineer somewhere in the world deserved a raise, he thought.
Back in the real world where said robot was trying to kill him, there were way better things to be thinking about right now. Falcon stayed back with the other rogues, watching the robot warily, his improvised shield still raised. That machine just radiated power, and he sure as anything wasn't going to charge it. That wasn't to say he couldn't attack it though. He just needed to be subtle.
A machine like that would have a lot of moving parts all working perfectly in concert to allow such deadly precision, not to mention how complex its electronic systems would have to be. An interruption of any of those delicate systems could affect the robot's performance if he did it right.
The robot took a step forward, and as it moved he got a look at gears turning in its knee joint. He selected one of these and grew it slightly. The cog now pressed tightly against the ones around it altering their alignments as well. If too much strain was put on that joint, they could easily lock up or break entirely if the robot put to much power through that leg. His next target was a cable underneath the colossus's upper arm. He shrank it a little, so that the shortened support wouldn't allow the whip arm to extend fully. It would grate to a halt a few inches short, still bent slightly. He hoped that that could throw off its attacks slightly. It was small, but anything that heightened his chances of escaping that weapon was worth the effort.
Growing bolder now, he reached out to the robot's launchers and guns. He shrank their barrels slightly. The changes were tiny, barely a couple of millimetres difference in their diameters, but if his knowledge of ballistics held, the narrowed rifling would be enough to stop any bullets and jam them within the barrel.
One of the other rogues (he assumes that was what the thing was, his eyes had been on the robot) charged the beast, so Falcon took a slight breather to see if his work had been effective. He doubted that the robot would have noticed, but if it did, then it might only be when it was too late and it had overreached itself.
The wind roared around him as he soared upwards, and the cells, walkways and flashing lights of the lower levels became a blur around him. As water poured into the prison, though, it also hit the bottom of the shaft and was caught up in the current. The air column quickly became an inverted rainstorm, drenching him through his jumpsuit and stinging his eyes as the drops flew past. Nearing the top, he angled his body so that he moved forward and was able to alight on the very edge of the top level.
Before him stretched a colossal dome, what he assumed to be the above-ground portion of the prison structure. It was almost entirely empty, just bare steel walls webbed with support girders and lit by bulbs hung from the ceiling by wires. Each was contained within its own small reflectorised dome, so the floor was covered by patched of stark brilliance spread through deep blue shadows. The upside-down waterfall behind him was beginning to spray fluid out across the floor, where it formed puddles that glimmered faintly in the specked light.
The only other things in the room were a barred door at the far end and the metallic colossus rising from the centre of the floor. The warden was humanoid, but in an exaggerated fashion. The tower of dark mental and sharp edges was topped by a tiny head and glowing, beady eyes that scanned the room with malice. He could see the faint blue glow of the powerpack mentioned in the PDA shining from within the thing's chest, but it was obviously well protected. The thing rose and swivelled towards him, whirring as it did so. Falcon raised his tray-shield uncertainly. He was no fighter himself, but surely some of the others coming up behind him would be. The one who had spoken at the bottom of the shaft, for instance, looked as if he knew what he was doing.
The promised fifteen minutes ticked away, and as the cell door unlocked itself and swung open with a series of metallic clinks, James Falcon rose to his feet, an empty plastic food tray in his hand. Power surged back into his body like a comfortable warmth in his stomach. The ability was a part of him, and it felt so right to have it replaced after being torn away. The first wrong to be righted.
The tray in his hand began to grow, doubling and then tripling in length, width and, most importantly, thickness. What had been flimsy now had enough strength in it to act as a makeshift shield, or so he hoped. Next he turned his attention to the bolt on his cell door, and it shrunk to half of its original dimensions, allowing the man to work it free of the locking mechanism. Once free he grew the small steel rod as he had the tray until it reached the size of a hefty metal bar. If he was going to be treated like a violent criminal by both governments and rogues, he might as well meet their expectations. His improvised tools weren't much, but he felt it prudent to be armed for his dash to the exit.
He peered out through the doorway, scanning the hall. Other prisoners were already out and exalting in their freedom. One had even felled a robotic guard. Looking beyond them to the end of the hallway, he focussed on a spot just near to the shaft and activated his second ability: visual range teleportation. In the blink of an eye, he was standing there, looking into the raging current of wind in front of him. He took a deep breath and stepped forward over the precipice.
The white cell was perfectly boring, perfectly maddening. He needed something to do, something to occupy his mind. The patterns on the wall panels had served that function for a short time after he had been thrown in here, but now the sheer lack of anything was chipping away at his sanity.
Then again, perhaps he was mad already? Hadn't he just decided to destroy civilisation and take over the world? Those were not the goals of most reasonable men. But no, he decided, he was not mad, and would endeavour to stay that way. He would need his wits about him if he was ever to rule. Knowledge is power, he repeated mentally, and precision is strength. Knowledge is power, precision is strength. He would hold to these things for however long he was here.
*****
The first PDA was intriguing, if not entirely impressive. The "Guardian Angel" claimed that he had been chosen personally, and yet it was clearly a one-size-fits-all job, addressing him as a Rogue who had failed in his criminal career, and would be interested in an evil scheme. James Falcon was neither of these things, and anyone who had taken the least amount of trouble to research him would know that. Of course, they would also be unaware of his recent change of heart and resolution to become what many would call a supervillain. He had come to that conclusion here in this cell with no one else around. Nevertheless, he tapped the button quickly. Any opportunity to get out of his cell was welcome, and if it came from someone who hadn't a clue who he was or would become, then so be it.
The second PDA message was much more to his liking. This "Mister Sinister" may have skipped while researching his benefactors, but James could certainly respect the man's capabilities if he was truly able to accomplish such a thing. It would be worth his while to keep the PDA and learn more of this person and his goals, even if their paths must eventually part. He could use them to gather resources and experience, and perhaps gain allies as he fought towards his goal.
He tapped again, then sat down with his back to the wall and his legs outstretched in front of him. He would need to clear his head and make a plan, such as he could, before launching his career as a rogue. This was to be the first great act of his new life, and he would take hold of it with both hands. He counted the seconds as time slipped away.
“I tried helping you idiots when you couldn’t do it yourselves, then you turned around and stabbed me in the back for all my hard work. Well, watch out, because you had your chance. Now, you can choke on it.”
Name: James Edward Falcon Allias: Falcon Age: 32 Gender: Male Species: Human Powers: Falcon can cause objects around him to change size, growing or shrinking into perfect scale replicas of themselves without changing density. A secondary ability allows him to teleport to anywhere he can see.
Appearance: Falcon has narrow grey eyes set above a prominent nose and a slim, clean-shaven face. He keeps his dark hair short, and was typically known to go around in a smartly-tailored business suit and tie. His torso is solidly built though not overly muscular, and his long legs take him to a height of 190 centimetres. (Picture to come)
History: James Falcon came into his abilities as a young man and, seeing that his powers were less well suited to flying though the skyline fighting criminals, he instead entered the world of business. His talent for growth and long-term strategic thinking saw him rise to prominence at a young age.
Because of his belief that superbeings should use their abilities to make the world better, he put much of his wealth funding altruistic projects. He put money into refugee camps and disaster relief, and funded drug research and subsidies where he felt that the government was falling short. As time passed and his business empire grew, his philanthropy also branched out to supporting political campaigns of candidates he felt had good priorities, then to supporting the cases of criminals whose actions he believed were justified, such as those who used dubious methods to expose corruption or exploitation. It was when he was found to be sheltering two of these men in his mansion while police were searching for them that he himself was arrested for obstructing the course of justice and trumped up charges related to his use of financial resources to exert undue influence on politics.
James did not resist his arrest and agreed to stand trial, confident in his assertions that the good he did for the world far outweighed the bad and that others would see that and overlook his breaking the letter of the law for upholding its spirit. He was dead wrong. A number of his political and business rivals piled in on the case, pushing for as harsh a sentence as possible, and he was sent to prison for five years. As a regular prison would be unable to hold him and no suitable facility was near to hand, he was extradited and sent to a secure facility designed to hold the most hardened violent supervillains, the ICF.
Horrified and insulted by this turn of events, he brooded on his anger and frustration, and so the supervillain Falcon was born. The people who had put him here, he decided, were incompetent fools. He had spent a long time plugging holes in a broken system with his own hard work and donations, but to truly help, much more would be required. The whole system needed to be broken down and rebuilt from the ground up, and the people in charge needed to know what they were doing and be able to see it through. People like Falcon. This would be his new mission in life, and arriving in jail, he had plenty of time to plan.
Personality: James Falcon is not an impulsive man. Rather, in all things he prefers a cautious, calculating, strategic approach. To him, knowledge is power and the way to get what one wants is by careful planning and precise execution. He prefers his own company when ruminating on these things and reacts irritably to distraction, though he will happily share his ideas and talk at length at more appropriate times. He is possessed of great determination and drive to reach his goals, and, facilitated by his approach above, has usually been successful. He truly does want to make the world a better place, but this ambition has been twisted by his anger and frustration about the ineffectiveness of government at achieving meaningful changes. He has become proud, vengeful and ruthless.
Strengths: Falcon’s most formidable asset is his strong intellect, which allows him to use his abilities to full effect in a number of situations. This is backed up by his sharp senses and good reflexes.
Weaknesses: Falcon’s teleportation ability only enables him to move within his line of sight, which limits its usefulness when it’s dark or his vision is otherwise obscured. He can take one other person with him or an equivalent amount of material, but no more. His size altering powers do not work on himself or any other humans. He dislikes being thrust into situations without warning, as his best strength comes from planning ahead and being able to control his environment.
Secret Hideout: As mentioned above, Falcon is not from Lochwell City, so he has no current base in the city. What he does have, however, is his emergency Swiss bank account, which he started when he first entered business and has been feeding ever since in case some unforeseen disaster should make the rest of his fortune inaccessible.
Equipment: For now, a prison jumpsuit. But just you wait until he can get out and get creative!
Relationships: James has immense respect for The Chief, a superhero from his hometown who doesn’t just catch criminals, but spends just as much time using his abilities to be helpful to law-abiding people. This is supering done right, in his opinion.
“Superbeings are not bound by the laws of men. We are born with the power to break the laws of nature itself, and are bound to step in and use that power when ordinary systems fail to protect mankind. I spent years trying to prop up the current system and plug its gaps with my powers, never realising that what it was beyond all hope of repair. Similarly, I reject my sentence under your legal code and instead answer to a higher moral law. It now demands that I step in not to uphold civilisation, but to destroy it. I will burn everything down to the bedrock and start over, This time, I will be in charge and I will see things done right.”
