Charles Victor Szasz was a orphan from the start, his parents dying in a car crash when he was only a few months old. He was raised in a catholic orphanage where he was taught the ways of God. Ways that he in his childhood practically spat on. He was bullied by the other orphans at the orphanage, he was beaten, made fun off, spit at and pissed on. Till he finally had enough and took a glass jar and bashed it against one of the bullies skulls.
In his teenage years he attended school at Julius Caesar High in Hub City. In his first two years he was bullied again, just like in the orphanage. But this time he didn't snap, but instead changed schools. He changed to Washington High in Chicago. There his genuis began to flourish, scoring off the charts on every test. Being the champion in both Boxing and Wrestling in his senior year, as well as being performing well in both track running and in gymnastics. Charles would decide to go to Journalism College in Metropolis.
Charles attended Metropolis University where he in his second year met Lois Lane, whom he broke a story with for one of their journalism classes. Following that they had a short lived romance ending with Lois dumping Charles like the other mere mortals she had dated in her past. Charles was very inspired by Perry White, whom Charles interviewed for a project in his second year. Perry told Charles that to be a good reporter you had to be ruthless and unaffected by your emotions. To always get the story.
He was also one of the first people who commented on Charles's very odd last name. One of the things Charles had been picked on for ever since he was young. So when he graduated from college after his three year degree he would legally change his name to Victor Sage. Becoming a journalist in Hub City he would write quite a few expose's before he would go on to become a Newsanchor for Channel 9 News.
The Question roams wherever the clues leads him. Wherever there's a conspiracy to be discovered you know that he's gonna be there sooner or later.
The plastic tips at the ends of shoelaces are called aglets. Their true purpose is sinister.
The rain was pelting against the warehouse roof, the wind was blowing up waves in the harbor, the echo of the waves crashing outside could be heard inside of the steel walls. Inside of the warehouse about 15 men were stationed. Half of them were carrying boxes, while the other half were keeping watch, armed to their teeth with assault rifles and shotguns. The warehouse had several rooms, hallways leading between them. It was one of these a young gangbanger by the name of Rick Johnson walked, his combat boot clad feet stomping against the ground, as he let go of his rifle and dug into his pocket, trying to get out a cigarette to smoke. He put the nicotine stick to his lips, and lit it up using a zippo lighter from his breast pocket.
As he did, he felt a light thud on his shoulder, turning around he saw a blue streak flash before his eyes before he felt a powerful blow hit his jaw and then his sight went black and he was knocked to the floor, unconscious. His knocked out body was dragged away, leaving only the lighter in the dim hallway, still burning.
Two more armed thugs were wandering the halls, their attention being drawn towards the sound of someone singing in the distance.
“ I could take you places you'd never been before.. I've got money in my pocket I'd like to blow... On you. ” The tones were pitch perfect, sung in a baritone voice, and much slower than they were suppose to be.
The two thugs nodded towards the direction, readied their guns and threw away the cigarettes they were smoking.
”I'd like to be... Everything you want. Hey girl, lemme talk to you' ““The fuck's that?” One of the two thugs asked, other one shook his head. “Think Rick lost his mind?”
As they rounded the corner, they saw the zippo lighter standing on the floor, still burning. “What the hell' is this?” They walked towards it, one of them picking it up and held it for a second, when suddenly the light flickered, and from above them in the ceiling the blue figure descended, as he fell he grabbed the thug's rifle by the barrel and yanked it forward, the strap around his neck forcing him off balance. As he stumbled forward he was met by a blue-clad knee to the face, and then being grabbed by his shoulders and tossed into the wall on the side. The second thug could now see the opponent's face clearly.
He had no face. He screamed but his cries were cut short by a punch to his windpipe followed by a roundhouse kick.
But his scream was enough to call for backup. The vigilante could hear shouts coming from down the hall, and he scoffed, still humming the pop song on his mind, his hand leaning the back of his shirt, where he kept his weapon of choice. His crowbar. Dragging it up from it's belt the 40 CM tall piece of metal twirled in his hand like it was a sword and he was a samurai.
Waiting for the next thug to walk around the corner, he readied his weapon. And as soon as he was in eyesight he smacked the wind out of the thug, dashing up onto the wall he dodged a hail of bullets from the coming four thugs. A flip after four steps on the wall sent him behind the group, able to swiftly send a kick into the fifth thug's back, forcing him to stumble into his colleges, stopping them from putting holes in the suit jacket of the faceless vigilante.
In a matter of moments all five of the thugs were knocked unconscious. Two of them had dislocated shoulders, other had bone sticking out of his knee, and the other two were laid on top of each other with several teeth knocked out. Like a pop-addicted Gordon Freeman, the suit clad vigilante continued on, still humming the aged hit song.
” If I was your boyfriend, I'd never let you go. I'd keep you on my arm girl, never let you go. ”Swag, swag.
He headed down to the storage area, where there was no more armed thugs, only a dousing or so of workers, and the boss of this operation stood there, rolling a joint, by the looks of things, however he was interrupted by the appearance of the vigilante. He was a ruthless killer named Miguel Sanguires, former hitman for the cartel “Who the hell is this Puto?” Miguel asked, looking at crowbar wielding vigilante. His workers looking scared. And as the vigilante moved they all dissipated and began running away in terror, having heard the stories of the faceless hero of Hub City.
The Vigilante looked up, the dim light hitting his face, showing it's complete lack of features. “That's the question, isn't it?”
Miguel groaned. “Fucking cowards!” He shouted after his men. Miguel was 196 CM tall, muscularly built and wore a green casual military jacket, black combat pants and leather boots. Everything about him was designed to strike fear into his enemies. And yet, The Question stood there, not making a face.
With a roar Miguel charged Q, whom as soon as Miguel was close enough side stepped and hit him in the jaw with the crowbar. Making Miguel skid on the ground. He cursed in spanish, drawing his combat knife and charging at Q again. Q lunged with the crowbar, but Miguel sidestepped and went in for close combat. The two exchanged blows, but after six attempts at stabbing the vigilante, Miguel was disarmed and The Question kicked him into the boxes the workers had been carrying.
Miguel scoffed. “Think you're so fuckin' smart, do you now? Conjo!” Grabbing one of the boxes he broke it open, inside there were syringes with green liquid inside.
Venom. Q thought, advancing on Miguel, but before he could make it to finish the thug off, Miguel had already shot him full of the same juice that allowed a man to break the bat. Q leaped about a meter into the air, aiming to bring the crowbar down into Miguel's face with full force, but the Venom had already started affecting him. He grabbed onto the crowbar and snarled. “I'mma break yo' face!” a bunch hitting Q in the cheek, decking him into the ground where he skidded for almost a meter, his hat falling off his head, his black hair being ruffled by the impact.
Miguel charged him, and the two exchanged blows, but with each blow Q parried he could feel himself getting weaker thanks to the power of Miguel's hits. A opening was had, and Q delivered a palm strike to Miguel, making Miguel slide away from Q a few steps. “Grr... DIE!” Miguel shouted, Q leaned down, and as the roided man charged, so did he.
Q aimed for Miguel's legs, and got a hold of them, locking onto his lower torso, and with a heave he lifted Miguel over himself, falling backwards he dropped Miguel on his head onto the cold concrete floor of the warehouse. Climbing back up onto his feet he saw that so was Miguel, Q made a flip backwards, as Miguel was charging towards him. Q kicked him quickly in the kneecap, using the larger man's shoulders to heave himself over him, landing behind him he crescent kicked Miguel whom was turning around, the kick forcing him to face away from Q.
The follow up was another kick to his spine, sending him into the steel railing to the loading docks, one he hit with his face. Knocking him out. Vic let out a sigh of relief as he heard sirens coming outside. He picked up his hat and walked towards Miguel.
“Put that in your pipe and vape it.”
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