V O R T E X
January 3rd, 2052 | 12:01am | Streets
Vortex stood, in disbelief. He'd done it all. Fought and killed, and won. But he hadn't won. Goldilocks cheated, stole his victory right from under him. He could have called that speedster in any time he wanted. But he didn't. He waited until right before the moment of his triumph, and stole it from him at the last moment. He'd thrown himself into harm's way, and for nothing. He loved the chaos, and the murder, but that one last act had soured it all, like having a nice tall glass of the most delicious drink and finding a roach at the bottom. He had barely moved since the speedster taunted him, the words filling him with such incalculable fury he couldn't do anything but sit there in stunned silence. He hadn't done nothing, of course. After one of those assassins had stabbed him, he was sure to break her legs. The general's command room had been empty since. There was nothing of value here that couldn't be accessed elsewhere, and he was... unstable, like this. He wasn't the most destructive legionnaire, but he sure was one of the easiest to set off.
"It's not fair." he said flatly, looking off to one of his pistols, the one that had been sliced in half. It was seeking to mend itself, silvery nanite tendrils slowly dragging it across the floor to its other half, and when they met they would meld back together. He could obviously accelerate the process, but he was busy pouting. He hadn't even bothered to take the sword out of his shoulder. "Killing my way down here wasn't fucking easy. I'd rather have stayed above ground if he was gonna fuckin' do that." The assassin sort of writhed weakly, muffled cursing and sobbing impossible to make out. She couldn't move, but everything just hurt too much for her to pass out. She hadn't bled out, unfortunately. She was stuck with the madman until he was done with his pity party.
He sighed, looking down to her. How... pitiful, she was. She expected a bit more... defiance, but after about nine hours she broke down into a hopeless, sobbing wreck. He didn't rate these assassins too highly. Little Luthor would suffer for this, somehow. He'd probably forget, but Vortex would not. His vengeance would be inexplicable, unpredictable, and humiliating. He thought of asinine pranks like filling his toilet with concrete, or maybe stealing the head trophy and destroying it, maybe take revenge on Speed Demon instead, steal the steering wheel on his new fucking car... But that was all stuff that could be handled privately. No, he had to embarrass him, preferably in front of his father. "Yeah... that'll do." He said, reaching up to the grip of the sword, pulling it out an inch, and snapping the hilt right off. his body began to very slowly devour the metal for repairs, while he savagely beat the assassin to death with the broken hilt...
The Fortress of Doom, Location Unknown
January 5th, 2052 | 6:56am | Bank
A couple days passed. He'd returned to the fortress without a word, and people talked. Mostly sneers at his expense. Things got real quiet when he ignored them. He didn't lash out, or even acknowledge them. It was a little creepy, as normally he was incredibly easy to rile up. So something was obviously very wrong, and if Vortex was extremely upset, you left him alone if you didn't want to lose an arm. Some guy did get upset about not being answered and shoved him, and now he's at the chop-shop getting his fingers re-attached. In any case, the fortress had to wait, he had a fat wad of cash in hand, and he had business to attend to.
DATA CORRUPTED, USA
January 6th, 2052 | 3:01pm | Suburb
He stood across the street from a suburban home, dressed in a heavy trench coat. He didn't much like the look of them, but it was the only sort of garment that could hide his heavily modified form. There wasn't many people around at the moment. It was a school day, and many parents were off at work, perfect for his purposes. He sighed, stepping forward before vanishing into thin air. He reappeared inside the empty home, surveying the place. It was... Cozy. The furniture was soft and inviting, there was none of those fake-ass 'live, laugh, love' decorations. It could have been a home. He briefly clenched his talons, suppressing the urge to destroy it all. No. That wasn't what he was here for. He looked into the living room as his augments pinged. There was a camera set up in there. He sighed, there'd be none of that. He drew his gun, firing exactly one round. His body whirred with the effort as he carefully guided the bolt, directing the energy projectile into the camera. Small parts of it withered, enough to ruin it but not enough to cause too much damage.
'Safe', he stepped into the living room. There was a couch, a nice TV, a record player, a few Metallica posters here, an Iron Maiden poster there. But what was really of interest was the small 'memorial' set up in the corner. A large picture of a smiling man in military dress fatigues, a flag in a neat trifold, some medals... Several other pictures of him. More smiles, famous landmarks, concerts for tribute bands, family... He felt a terrible rage well up inside him, and before he could stop himself he's already driven his fist through the largest photo, the soft clink of jostled broken glass as he slowly withdrew his steel hand. "Hrm." He grunted. He had to leave. It was five minutes later that he'd teleported out of the home, naught but the damaged portrait, half a million dollars left on the dining room table, and the message 'I'M SORRY' scratched into the wood. Oh, and one missing record.
The Fortress of Doom, Location Unknown
January 8th, 2052 | 5:00pm | Empty Section
Things had gone back to normal on his latest return to the fortress. Nobody said anything about that business in Thailand, but that could be chalked up to people having new shit to talk about. Vortex himself had found himself occupied in the arena for the past couple days. After his... business concluded he was hungry for violence. He boxed, knocked a few teeth out, won some bouts, lost some, played some Mortal Kombat, had another boxing match, the guy brought up Thailand so he decided to practice Kano's fatality on him. Motherfucker had eight hearts so he'd live, though. He knew that, he was basically free to do whatever he wanted so long as he didn't do too much to piss off his superiors and, more importantly, obeyed rule number one: No killing Legionnaires, ever. An exception could be made for traitors, self defense and the like, but it was the one rule Vortex never broke. Hell, it was mostly self imposed. If he just killed his allies willy nilly what was to stop them doing the same to him? Maiming wasn't out of the question, though.
He wandered through the halls, nanites devouring the blood still on his arm as he looked through the various chambers for somewhere to just... relax, Record player under one arm and stolen record under the other. He could use his chambers, true enough, but he wanted to be somewhere he could just listen to the record uninterrupted. Really let the music seep in. Who knows what jackass would knock on his door howling about dismemberment this, overdue movies that. He froze when he heard sounds coming from an ostensibly empty room. Very subtle ones, but sounds nonetheless. There were life signs too, if his augments were right. Too big for rats. Intrigued, he decided to teleport in. He approached the door, dropping down so he could see under the door. He couldn't see... Well, anything of significance but it gave him the line of sight he needed to teleport.
There was a subtle thrum in the room Vera camped out in, and soon Vortex appeared, regarding the girl and her phone, as well as her pet. She'd likely be startled, but... he didn't really care. "What'chu doin' in here? Party's out there." He said casually, his tone one of curiosity more than interrogation. He took a seat at the wall across from her, setting his record player on the floor and popping it open, checking it over to make sure everything was in order. "Not sure I recognize ya. Beautiful lizard by the way, never seen one like it." He said, his enhanced eyes glowing eerily in the darkness. He didn't know her, but she probably knew him. He sounded sincere, and going by the news that was very odd for Vortex. He didn't wait for an answer as he looked over the record, clicking his tongue. "I ain't gonna bother ya or nuthin', just came in to listen to some tunes... Ever listen to Iron Maiden? Old band." He asked. He'd be unsurprised by a no, they were pretty much forgotten nowadays. He set the record on, and dragged the needle into place.