Hillan

One Universe: World Of Heroes - A Marvel & DC Comics RPG

I still remember the first time I saw a dead body. I don't think I'll ever forget it. We had just pulled the carnival into some bum-fuck nowhere town, I don't recall where it was even. But while we were pitching the tents and raising the jenny, they found him. In the grove of Walnut Trees. He had no ID, no possessions and he looked like a hobo. People figured he had taken the train, hopped off and come down here to lay down away from the heat - and never woke up.

We should have called the cops, I know. But that would not have been good for business, so my dad and Crash dragged him off and buried him somewhere off camp. I remember trying to stare into his eyes, desperately searching for a glimpse of the afterlife in his dead eyes. But all I found was just a hunk of dead meat. I'd have to find my answers elsewhere.

Even now... All these years later, I still find myself searching for answers when it comes to heaven and hell. Still gazing into the eyes of the dead.
The only difference these days...

"The dead sometimes gaze back"


One Last Ride Pt. II

The scrapyard was back alive after Johnny's attics. Reyes had sent his guards away and was talking everything over with Johnny. Robert knew that Johnny was once the Ghost Rider, a duty he didn't envy the biker. But Robert also had his own issues to take care off, most of them of the supernatural kind. He couldn't just sent Johnny on his way, he had to make a deal with the rider. He would know how poorly Johnny feels about deals, they've left a sour taste in his mouth in the past. Usually of brimstone and sulfur. Reyes poured Johnny another bottle of his scotch, Johnny grimaced at the expensive stuff but he drank it either way quite happily.

"I always did prefer Jack Daniels to this fancy stuff."
"And that's why you're a waste of a man, Johnny Blaze." Reyes told him with a smile and Johnny smirked, swirling the whiskey in the glass.
"Not a lot of guys come back from the dead, man. I saw you, your head was blown open, you were dead as sin, my friend." And Johnny scoffed and thought back to the moment when Zarathos and left him and possessed the Accountant and pulled the trigger on the revolver, killing Mr. Blaze. How Johnny's brain had splattered on the back of the limo and how the people outside of the car had been screaming in horror as Zarathos erupted in flames and vanished.
Johnny couldn't remembered what happened afterwards, as he woke up in hell being gnawed on by imps.
"Yeah. But I crawled my way out of that pit. With purpose, too."
Johnny began, he didn't much care to explain himself or his mission to Reyes, Reyes probably didn't care either way. Reyes was after all just a man of business and far more interested in Johnny helping him out.

"You want your bike, huh? We tried to put it to use after you died. But it wouldn't start. I think you rode it too hard." and Johnny chuckled.
"It takes a special blend, I told you that." Reyes smiled
"O' Yeah. It did, I remember. What was it, sugar, spice and everything nice?"

"Brimstone, tears of the damned and the anguish of mortal souls. Makes a hellfire mix of gasoline." Reyes shrugged off the rider, and continued, he could tell that Johnny was losing his patience and given how they were still picking up teeth after Johnny's entrance earlier, he didn't want to test him.

"We buried your bike. We figured if we didn't some evil son of a bitch would come asking for it." Johnny's eyes lit up
"Where?" Reyes had a sly smile on his face.
"Not so fast Johnny. First I need you to do something for me. I have a traitor in my midst. I already found the rat, he's chained up in the basement. But he's refusing to talk. This puta stole from me, and worse he used my smuggling connections to traffic people. Children!" Johnny shook his head.
"And how am I gonna help? Don't you have big strong bikers who can hook him up to car batteries and twist his nipples into submission?" Reyes frowned and shook his head.
"It won't work. Carlos doesn't break. I need you to use your mojo on him. Pull that fear of god-shit on him."

Johnny shook his head in defeat. If he was gonna find his bike, he would have to play along, after all.

***

They walked down into the small basement where Carlos was chained up, he was beaten and bloodied, cuts and bruises on him. He was barefoot with his feet in a metal bucket with ice water in it. On the floor was a car battery. It was a biker blacksite in all it's glory and Johnny felt his stomach turn. But it wasn't from disgust.

It was something far worse.

"Carlos!" Reyes shouted, slapping Carlos who woke up, pulling off the bag from his head. "This is your last chance to come clean. Where is my product?!" He shouted, eyeing Johnny, backhanding Carlos "And the kids!"

Carlos's voice was shaky from the pain and torture, but yet cool and composed. He wasn't scared.
"Screw you." He told Reyes, awaiting Robert's raised hand to come down on his face, but Johnny stopped the hand.
"This here is Johnny. He's an old friend. And a... Specialist. You best be talking before he gets all hot in here."

Johnny nodded for Reyes and the other goons to leave the room, they did so promptly.

"Y'know. Reyes thinks I can do something to you. Something truly terrible. He wants me to show you all of your sins, to judge your soul and let you see damnation for yourself. It's very old-testament. The burning head also doesn't hurt the freak-factor of it all." He pulled the table closer to Carlos and pulled up a chair on the other side of the table, from his side pocket, he got out a shotgun shell and a pack of cigarettes.
"But I can't do that. Not anymore. I can't show you eternal torture and damn you to it if you are judged poorly. Besides, you're a modern man. You probably don't even believe hell is real." The man who smelled of smoke and brimstone smiled, he popped the cap of the shotgun shell, revealing the gunpowder inside, Carlos's eyes got wider.
"W-What the hell are you doing?!" He asked and Johnny simply gripped his hand tightly, and poured the gunpowder onto his hand.
"I can't show you hell. But I can bring you a piece of it." He promised, lighting the cigarette in his mouth with the lighter with one hand, the other holding Carlos's hand firmly in place. The gunpowder began smouldering on his skin, red tremors running up his veins from his hand up his arm, into his chest and his eyes. He groaned in pain and within seconds, the groan turned into a cry, a howl.
"Tell me where the kids are you greedy son of a bitch!" Johnny shouted, and Carlos cried in pain.
"Tell me and I stop the burning!" the rider promised and Carlos cried out again
"T-Third And Oaks. They're in a warehouse... If they're still there. Please!" Carlos wept as his body - his very soul, was being charred.
"Who put you up to it?" Johnny asked, and Carlos cried
"A guy with the Mexican cartel... They called him Pride or something, he was scary as hell! Shit, please, stop this!" Carlos cried and Johnny, upon realizing he meant the Pride, knew what had to be done. He was about to get out of his seat as Carlos cried for him to help him, Johnny shook his head, taking the cigarette from out of his mouth and putting it out on Carlos's hand, igniting the gunpowder, engulfing Carlos in hellfire and within seconds, burning him to bones. Johnny left the room, walking back out to Reyes

"The product is on Third and Oaks, the kids maybe, too. Now where the fuck is my bike, Reyes?!"
Reyes, shocked to see the man cremated in his basement, stammered for a second.
"We... We buried the bike next to your dad. It only felt fitting."

Johnny walked up the stairs, on the way, he swiped the keys to Reyes grey 1971 Challenger, he wasn't gonna walk all the way to Seatle.
But once he had his wheels, he'd hunt down pride. And after him, he'd take down the rest of the seven.

Vengeance shall be served.

One Universe: World Of Heroes - A Marvel & DC Comics RPG

Murder moose on the loose.

One Universe: World Of Heroes - A Marvel & DC Comics RPG

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L

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^{_{C A R T E R H A L L ( K A T A R H O L ) ♦ M U S E U M C U R A T O R ♦ M I D W A Y C I T Y ♦ U N A L I G N E D}}

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:

---

^{"I'm going to wipe that smirk off your face with my mace."
H A W K M A N}

@Lord Wraith

Discount Thomas can come hang.

Accepted.

Guild News: September 2020

In the immortal words of Kite Man.

Hell Yeah.

One Universe: World Of Heroes - A Marvel & DC Comics RPG

Are there plans for including smaller in-game events like the ones introduced in the last game?

@Natty

The short answer? Yes. There are plans.
Plans are coming out a lil slow on that department, as I'm busy with studying, Henry's busy with baby and MB's busy... Remodeling the batcave?
But sometime soon TM there will be smaller-scale crisis events to take part in.

One Universe: World Of Heroes - A Marvel & DC Comics RPG

"One Last Ride Pt. 1"

His eyes opened for the first time in five years. Waking up in a ditch not far from where he died a decade and a half ago. Where the gangsters had killed him and he and Roxanne had made their pacts. The one where he had sworn vengence, and she had sworn protection of the man she loved. Neither of these pacts were carried out, Roxanne broke hers and Johnny was betrayed. The ground was damp. Rain was pouring down. He was wearing a dirty white T-shirt, a pair of ripped jeans and a pair of black work boots he usually wore. He was... Alive. Sure, he had been present, sort of. In hell, you aren't alive, and you aren't gone. They keep you awake, aware. But it's a different kind, your soul is active, but your brain and body are gone.

As he laid there bondering the metaphysics of it all, he felt his lungs fill with air. The cold drops of the fall rain should've bothered him, but there was a soothing quality to them. While the grass was grimy and he was dirty, it was still the most beautiful thing he had ever felt.

He sat up, looking at his hands, flexing his fingers. Incapable of believing the fact that he had a body again. For but a moment, he was so excited that the only emotion that he felt was joy. Glee. Maybe it had all been a bad dream, a nightmare. Maybe Hell wasn't real, and he had never ridden on that horse made out of fire and steel. Maybe he had never felt his skin burn off his skin, and maybe Roxanne was still alive and well.

But as his eyes were drawn to a satchel hanging on the branch on the tree above him, he knew his naive thoughts were just that. Hell was real, and he was sent back to earth with a purpose. A dire one, at that. He looked at the satchel, in it was the shiny blade he had been gifted for his purpose, a few of his earthly belongings. And a note.


It was Enochian, and as Johnny read it, his arm began to burn, a searing pain in his right arm. On it Enochian runes appeared, a spell. He couldn't read them, but he understood what they meant. They were the agreement he had with the underworld. With Mephisto. He knew there was no getting out of it. And he had but one choice.

He tore the letter out of the satchel, crushed it and threw it away. It evaporated into flames and a foul smell of darkness. He pulled the leather jacket out of the satchel, as well as checking the Sawed Off Shotgun that was put into one of the pockets. He had made it himself when he was 14, butchering his dad's old hunting shotgun. The double barreled shotgun had served Johnny, and the Ghost Rider, well. And it would do so again.

But he was without his bike, and there was only one place to go to find it again. Reyes Scrapyard. The scrapyard was a biker clubhouse run by Robert Reyes, the meanest motherfucker the Eastern Seaboard ever produced to ride a bike - well, second meanest.
They were the Reyes Devils, and they were all a mean bunch. But if anyone took care of his motorcycle after his demise, Johnny knew it would be Reyes.

---

A few hours later, riding in a rusty old Chevy he had stolen. Johnny pulled up to the clubhouse, located on a 150 year old scrapyard, one that once had been used as a oil refinery, then a mafia moonshining place, and a scrapyard under Reyes grandpa, and now, a clubhouse. Johnny wore a hoodie under his leather jacket, covering his face. He walked in, the biker guarding the door stopped him.

"You are not getting in. You're not in the crew, turn around or you will get hurt." The biker promised, his vest said 'Breaker' on it, a shitty nickname for a shitty biker. But in his waistband was a .40 cal, and he looked willing to use it.

Johnny broke his nose, knocking him out and walked in.

Inside the clubhouse, the music was loud. It was some new shit Blaze hadn't heard before. He noted all of the stairways up and down, if he knew Robbie, he would have his office at the top of the clubhouse, so, two floors up. And he'd have it well and properly guarded. But he simply didn't bother stalking his way up there. He instead walked up to the bar, where the guy with the most patches on his vest stood, meaning he was the highest ranked among the bikers on the floor.

Johnny walked up, looked the bartender in the eye and ordered a shot of whiskey, the bartender eyed the Biker to Blaze's side nervously, before he walked away to get the drink. They knew the guy wasn't from here. The biker turned to him and looked him up and down.
"And who the fuck are you? What are you doing in our bar?" And Johnny smirked.
"I'm here to talk to Reyes. Your boss, fatso." He told the far bigger biker who didn't take kindly to the insult. He was about to rebuttle the insult when the door burst open, the guard from outside fell in, yelling about his broken nose, pointing at Johnny.

"Oh, so he's woken up." Blaze noted, the bigger biker in front of him cussed a 'son of a bitch' as he swung his arm at Johnny. He ducked under it, uppercutting him with his left and then jabbing him in the gut with his right, as the guy was hunched over, he ate a knee to the plexus and then got a double-handed swing to the back of his head, dunking his face into the counter of the bar, teeth flying.
He collapsed on the floor. Johnny was panting slightly, looking at all of the other really pissed off bikers in the club.
"Now, where the hell is Reyes?!" He shouted, as a creek in the stairs was heard and down came the boss.

Johnny smirked, turning back to the barkeep.
"I'll take that drink now." Johnny had barely time to taste the shitty whiskey before nine bikers had knives, a shotgun, a automatic pistol, revolvers and a taser to his head. He looked at the guy with the taser and mouthed 'really'.
Reyes looked him up and down.
"Who the hell are you, walking in here smelling like a burning building and beating up my guys?"
One of his bikers pulled down Johnny's hood, shocking Reyes to see his once-dead friend.

"Hi, Robbie. Long time no talk. You never write anymore." He joked, his cocky smile creeping further on his face.

"Where the hell is my bike?"

One Universe: World Of Heroes - A Marvel & DC Comics RPG

<Snipped quote by Hillan>

You look like you could use some insurance there...

@Byrd Man

Does Howard sell whole universe insurance?

... That's retroactive?
And brings all of your loved ones back?

Asking for a friend.

One Universe: World Of Heroes - A Marvel & DC Comics RPG

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L

THE LIGHTNING KNIGHT

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^{_{SIR WALLACE AUF WEST ♦ MULTIVERSAL REFUGEE / KNIGHT ♦ CENTRAL CITY ♦ KNIGHTS OF THE LIGHTNING CROSS}}

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:

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^{"Even in the greatest darkness, a spark of light can still be found."
"For King And Speedforce."}

Sir Wallace of the Lightning Cross is my continuation, and technically, the sequel to where I wanted to take Eobard Thawne's Flash Story in Absolute. He's from earth 1349, one that's been devoured by The Great Darkness. Wallace is a warrior equipped with the speedforce, a soldier who lost his war. He will have to learn and adapt to the world around him, not to mention the fact that he has a younger doppelganger and a whole slew of people who wear the faces of his slain comrades. This story is about a man who left his doomed world behind, failed his duty and has to cope with the fact that he just wasn't good enough to be the hero his universe needed.

C H A R A C T E R M O T I V A T I O N S & G O A L S:

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"Shadowlands" is something I throw out a lot. And it's the brainchild I thought of while I was doing my last Flash run. A world where the Great Darkness, the source of the Shade's power, is devouring a world, and how the entire universe is affected. How the shadows is the anti-thesis to the speedforce, Shadowlands was Thawne's big heroic moment, his first real stepping up into herohood, one I'm continuing with Wallace, albeit in a different way than I originally intended. Through the lense of Wallace living in Earth 1, I will tell the story of Thawne's heroism, his own failures and most of what happened in that doomed world.

And what may befall this one, too.

Wallace's motivations aren't defined, to him. He doesn't know what he can, or should do. He was saved, either from death or from eternal rest. He used to have very clear motivations for what he did, and now he doesn't. And he does not know how to cope with that. In it, he'll find new relationships, primarily in the Flash family, but maybe outside of that, too. He'll have to learn about the sides of the speedforce his king never wanted him to learn, and he'll have to find his place in a brand new universe that is both foreign and scary.

In short, Wallace is the Future Trunk of the Flash family.

C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:

---

Knights Of The Lightning Cross, The Riders Of Lightning, Deceased:
King Savitar
Lord Bartholomew Allen Sr.
Sir Bartholomew Allen Jr.
Sir Jaysus Garrickum
Wizard Maximilian Mercurius
Lady Jessiah Quick
Honorary Knight Edward Thawne of Earth AC.

S A M P L E P O S T:

---

[+]

T H E S H A D O W L A N D S

The quaint little town was silent as the night as the stranger arrived in the village. On horseback, his horse was big and strong, but old. It's once black mane had now turned gray from aging. He tied the horse to the post outside of the cottage that had a sign on the outside that said "Gazette Inn." Once, the Gazette had been a reputable establishment. One of the finest in the entire kingdom. The poets and writers would all gather there, to that mild degree that the news pamphlets were named after the inn. But, that was a long time ago. Before the war.

Before all of the destruction. He mused on the times past and a solemn sign escaped his lips.

The man wore a grey cloak that almost looked black. It was draped over his shoulders, covering almost all of his clothing, but the clanking of his steps betrayed that he was clad in armor. He walked into the inn, pushing the wooden door open with his left hand, the light bouncing off the dirty plate armor that adorned his chest. It was quiet. As it always was. A handful or so patrons, one barkeep who was sitting next to the bar, drinking a lukewarm ale. The man walked in and scanned the room. His eyes were weary. Tired. He hadn't slept in a long time. He knew well that even when he did, he wouldn't get much sleep anyway. There just wasn't enough time.

Time. Such an abstract concept that truly should have so little meaning. Times past, and times to come were all that occupied his mind, when he let it wander. Refocusing at the task at hand, he sized the barkeep up and the pudgy man, dressed in a butcher's apron that was a little dirty with spots of spilled beer got up out of his seat.

"Uh, oh, greetings Sir Knight. What can I do you for?" The barkeep asked the knight, whom sighed. Full-armor certainly didn't make stealth an option. He saw some ruffians in the back make a face upon the mention of the knight.

"An ale would do me just fine." He knight said, flipping a shimmering bronze coin onto the bar. The keep took it and grabbed the tankard, dunking it in the keg. Slamming the wet-glass onto the counter, the beer frothing. The knight took a swig and made a grimace. The ale was truly terrible. Tasted like shit. That's beer without any oats, he supposed. Harvest had gone to shit for the past five years.

"I've got a couple questions." The knight asked the barman who's eyes grew wider.
"Aye."
"I'm looking for a man. One James Jesse. A Rogue, cheat and scoundrel. He cheated me in a game of cards a few weeks back."
"Purple hair?" He barman asked, and the knight nodded.
"Aye. He was here a few days ago. Headed East, I think."
"East? There's nothing East." The knight told with an extra stern tone.
"Did I say East? I meant North. S-Sorry, times are tough, my mind is not what it used to be." The Barman corrected, sweat beading on his forehead. He wiped it off with his right hand, his sleeve rolling up as he did.

The knight noticed the black mark on the barman's hand and his grip on the beer loosened as he took a step back. "Right. I guess I better pursue Mr. Jesse, then." The knight said, making his way to the door, only to find two of the ruffians blocking the door. One of them was a head taller than the knight, the other about the same size.

"You shouldn't have poked your head where it don't belong. Knight. This isn't where you belong. You belong back behind those precious city walls." The thug mentioned, producing the long knife from his pocket. Twirling it in his hand. The knight scoffed.
The thug lunged at him, knife first, the knight took a step backwards, Upper-cutting the thug's elbow, breaking it immediately. His companion swung a knuckleduster at the knight, hitting him in the cheek, making him stumble backwards, where two more of the brigands had gotten up of their seat, one of them kicked the knight in his chester, the other swong his wooden club at him.

The club was dodged by an inch, stepping backwards the big guy guarding the door grabbed him by the hood, yanking him backwards. Pulling down the hood, revealing his ginger hair. From behind the barman, the trap-door to the attic opened a little. A crack. A crossbow peaked out and a bolt was let fly towards the knight's back. As the knife came at him from one direction, the bolt from another, and four very angry men attacking him. He found serenity. Quiet and peace.

God, he was tired of fighting. He was so tired of men being this stupid. Not seeing the big picture. How they'd try to kill him just for the chance to steal his armor and make a few gold. Not realizing the bigger picture. That the war wasn't over yet. It was only starting. That back east, the enemy was amassing their army and soon, it would all come crashing down. He fist-pounded the mark on his left shoulder as he was yanked backwards. And the room lit up. He caught the bolt and threw it back, hitting the purple-haired assassin in the chest, sending him falling down stairs to the attic. He dodged under the knive, drawing his own sword from his back, the blade being fitted in a reverse-sheath under his cloak. It was his short sword, his two-handed one resting on his horse.

In three strikes he had disemboweled the men, at a blinding speed where lightning filled the room and blood painted the walls. Their heads rolled, one guy got his arm cut off and then his leg. The other was cut in half and the last one simply got impaled. Painless, mercifull deaths.

Sometime ago, the Knight would've been sickened at this display of violence. But he wasn't the same kid as when he was knighted. He wasn't the squire who had spared brigands for the sake of redemption anymore. He was a soldier in a war that threatened everything. And defeat was never an option.

He cleaned his blade on his cloak and holstered it in it's sheath. Walking towards the panicked barkeep, whom was crawling backwards behind the barkdesk, only to be met with the body of the supposed bounty the knight was hunting, James Jesse - The Trickster laid there, the bolt lodged directly in his heart.

"W-Who the hell are you?!" The barman cried out as the knight extended his hand to him to pick him off the bloodstained floor.

"My name is Sir Wallace of the West. A Knight of the Riders Of Lightning, in service of the king. And I have to talk to you about the shadow who gave you that mark on your hand."

P O S T C A T A L O G:

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A list linking to your IC posts as they're created. This can be used for a reference guide to your character or to summarize completed arcs and stories.

One Universe: World Of Heroes - A Marvel & DC Comics RPG

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L

G H O S T R I D E R

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^{_{Johnathon "Johnny" Blaze ♦ Bounty Hunter Of Satan ♦ Earth / Hell ♦}}

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:

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^{"Go to Hell."}

Johnny was the Ghost Rider for a decade, back in the start of the century. He was left for dead after a gang attack, his girlfriend at the time and his adoptive father were both with him and in the same situation. On his deathbed, Johnny asked whatever power there was in the world to do a sinner like him one favor. Take his soul, but save his family's life. Heaven didn't take the deal. He became bonded to the ArchDemon Zarathos, and became the spirit of vengeance. For ten years he rode. Fighting anything from no-good drug dealers to rogue angels from the Black Host. While Ghost Rider was putting the hurt on the Knight Of Hell Abaddon, Zarathos betrayed Johnny and broke their pact. Leaving Johnny dying on the ground, and when his heart stopped beating, his soul was sent to hell for all eternity.

Johnny's been dead for four years. Which in hell was the equivalent of 400 years. During this time, Johnny's been fighting demons every second to avoid endless torture. But with Zarathos and Abaddon's coup on Hell, they released Mephisto's most valued inmates. And the Lord Of Hell needs them back. He resurrected Johnny as a man, to hunt the demons down and maybe, he'd get a chance at redemption for his soul. And more importantly, revenge on Zarathos.

He's back from the grave again. No longer a host split between the man and the demon. He's just a rider. A Rider who dreads he's more ghost than man.

C H A R A C T E R M O T I V A T I O N S & G O A L S:

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Johnny's prime desire is to kill Zarathos. But in doing so, he'll hunt down every evil son of a bitch he can get. Using the centuries of combat skills he's amassed, he's the most qualified human to fight demons there ever was. Using weaponry enhanced with demonic magic, hellfire loaded buckshot and the occasional shot of demon blood. He's determined to get his soul back from the clutches of hell. For now, his goal is to hunt down the seven sins before they bring ruin to the world.

He's the protector of the innocent and the tormentor of the wicked.

C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:

---

[+]

Allies:
Elaine Belloc: Nephilim, Daughter of Michael, Granddaughter of God. Former Reaper and the one who will inherent heaven, and all of creation one day.

Jim Corrigan, The Spectre - Ghost Rider's counterpart from heaven. Jim carried the Spirit Of Vengeance in him for many decades before he finally moved on. In his last days, he met Johnny and the two hosts of vengeance had a brotherly bond.

Enemies:
The Seven Deadly Sins; Lust, Gluttony, Greed, Sloth, Wrath, Envy and Pride. Seven of the most evil and twisted demons in all of Hell, released upon the earth with Zarathos's betrayal. Sure to bring destruction everywhere they go.

Zarathos - Demon and former Lackey of Mephisto, much to his chagrin. Former Co-Pilot of the Ghost Rider and the catalyst for the spirit of vengeance.

Mephisto - One of the many rulers of the underworld. Like, the fiery one. Not the criminal one. A trickster, a manipulator and overall one of the most evil creatures in all of creation.

Zadkiel And The Black Host - Every bad thing the angels ever did in mythology? Yeah, Zadkiel was the one who was tasked with all of it. Planning on overthrowing Heaven and becoming the new God.

Father Carmichael - A Protestant Priest who is highly critical of this Ghost Rider and his inherent demonic connection and is in direct contact with Heaven, spreading propaganda fed to him from the Angels. The guy is sadly technically innocent, so Johnny cannot do anything to him.

Machine Gun Nurses - a group of highly trained assassins and Demon Hunters posing as Nurses, armed with heavenly steel and bullets forged with angelic technique, making them one of the few human forces in the world that are a threat to Ghost Rider.

S A M P L E P O S T:

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[+]

The Fateful Night in Detroit, because like everything of this nature, it was destined to go down in that Michigan Metropol. The man in black riding his motorcycle, dug up from his grave, a grave that had been empty long before he came there with lantern and shovel. His name was Johnny Blaze, but people these days only knew him as The Rider. Sitting on top of his father's old 1993 Harley Davidson, the bike he infused with the power of Vengeance so long ago. The wheels that tarnished the streets of America with hellfire and spread terror to the things that go bump in the night.

That bike is perhaps the only thing left to remind Johnny of who he was before he was the rider. When he was just a man. A man with a life, adopted into a loving family, spent his life as a performer and fell in love with a girl he had loved his entire life up until that point when they were seventeen. He was a daredevil, a defier of gravity and scared of nothing. Not of flaming rings or rows of buses. He knew his grit and his bike would carry him through it.

Those seconds he was in the air, the roar of the engine as he let go of the gas, the purr of his motorcycle. He felt immortal. And being able to feel that way again, after all those years in the pit? He almost couldn't believe it. He'd be happy, euphoric, even. If that was something he could still feel.

The freeway was empty. It was after all two in the morning. It was off the main road, but Mr. Blaze was hunting his target. And the White SUV with the tinted windows was coming up. They were pulling up onto the overpass, overshadowing the now closed down dive bars of Detroit, bars Johnny had once frequented. Health violations, he would've guessed. He grabbed the chain of Zarthal, demon of the north gate, from it's place wrapped around his shoulder and torso. Un-coiling it from himself with the grace of a olympic gymnast.

Sure, he lacked the magic to do any of the fancyness the chain could do. He couldn't make it burn, and he couldn't change it's shape anymore.

But what could he do with the indestructible metal rope?

Hit the back axle of the SUV. That's what he could do. He threw the chain, coiling around the axle, Coiling the end in his hand around the center part of his handlebar. With his left hand, he pushed the brakes. Forcing his motorcycle to halt, pulling on the chain, and as he started tipping forward, he put his weight on the back of his bike, forcing it back down to the ground after the chain went taunt, the car gave weight, breaking the back left wheel off. Johnny pulled the chain back, coiling it around his right arm as he pulled up alongside the now skidding car, coming to a halt from it's maimed journey.

He removed his black helmet, dismounting the bike. He tossed the helmet on the ground as the front door opened. From his left hip with his left arm, he pulled a revolver loaded with iron bullets blessed by a virgin. The first guard poked his head out, machine gun in hand. Johnny fired his first shot, hitting the guard straight in the head. His head didn't bleed, the bullet lodged in his skull, paralyzing him.

Johnny Fanned the hammer on the revolver as the other two doors opened firing through the car, hitting the guy in the passenger seat in each shoulder, the door closest to him swung open, he took a step backwards to avoid the door, but the possessed man inside lunged at him, Johnny took another step backwards to avoid getting knocked down, shoving his revolver under the man's chin and firing the bullet, seeing it getting lodged inside of his head, it shut him down completely with a spark.

"Come out here, Pride!" He shouted. "Your goons are down! I've come for you!" The rider yelled, the entire car shifted as the second backdoor opened, and Pride, wearing his 6'8 Mexican Cartel Boss- Meat Suit, smirked.
"Well well well. If it isn't little Johnny. Come here to play with the big boys, huh? Follows us out of hell? Came back to get a taste of the good life, ay?"

"There will be no life left for you after tonight, Pride. And after you, I'm killing your siblings."

"My my my, little Johnny's all full of himself. You're really gonna take us all down, all by yourself? Driving your dad's bike, using an old Rider's gun? C'mon. You think I don't know that revolver's the one, what, Hellbilly, used? What a stupid-ass name. You can't kill demons with it. Your blessed iron doesn't do anything but put my boys under for a bit. They'll recover, and it'll do nothi-" He was cut off by Johnny firing four shots into him, hitting his stomach, his chest and his forehead, throwing his head back, and making him take three steps backwards, leaning against the highway wall.

"Nothing but tickle me." He said, the bullets popping out of him as the impact-wound in his forehead immediately closed. A sadistic smile curling on his lips as he walked towards Johnny who was largely unphased, if only angrier by the futility of his firearm. His face was covered in darkness as the singular horn grew out of his left side of the face, his skin turning dark red and claws sprouting on his hands and he grew a half a feet and about doubled in muscle mass.
"You aren't surprised by my true form, Rider?" He asked, mockingly. His voice having a much deeper boom to it as Johnny simply shook his head.

"You aren't the first demon-son-of-a-bitch I've killed. I've waded in the blood of your kind, Pride. And you won't be the last." He holstered his revolver and drew his shotgun. Pride could smell the ammunition and knew he couldn't well, be prideful this time. This wasn't virgin-blessed iron.

He dashed, slicing at Johnny, who had to move backwards, his sawed off shotgun coming up into firing-height as Pride tackled him, the shot going off, but missing by half an inch. The buckshot hit the pavement, exploding into small burning bits of gunpowder.

"Where the hell did you get hellfire from?!" He shouted and Johnny simply smirked. "It's not the only trick up my sleeve." Pride slashed at him, Johnny drew the knife from his back, hitting Pride in his palm, the blade cut him with a bright light, Pride let out a painful groan at the presence of a blade powerful enough to harm him. While Pain was recoiling from the counter-attack, Johnny holstered the shotgun again, saving his remaining shot.

"You insect! A shard of Michael's sword, in your possession?!" He yelled, his voice exploding the windows on the SUV he had been riding in before. Completely stunned to learn that Johnny posessed one of the pieces of the now broken blade, that the Archangel had used to defeat his younger brother.
"A going away present from Hell. Mephisto called it my 500-year gold watch." Johnny goaded, twirling the blade in his hand.
"Heh. You think fighting for 500 years in the pit makes you special, boy?" Pride was getting more composed, less angry about the weaponry Johnny brought. He dashed forward, faster than Johnny could react, the man swiped at him with the knife, but Pride avoided it, jumping in a semi-circle around him, slashing Johnny in the side, a grazing wound. He kicked off again, his knee hitting Johnny in the stomach, while Johnny got to cut him in the arm with the knife, a shallow cut, but still one that pissed the demon off.

He clawed Johnny in the face, he slashed the demon's leg. Getting some distance between the far faster, stronger and more durable foe, Johnny realized he was losing a lot of blood. His leather jacket was soaked in it, in fact. The claw wound wasn't so shallow, after all. He had to end this, quick, or he was doomed. Something else caught his attention, too. The sound of engines in the distance. Motorcycles, getting closer.

"Oh. Look. It's my cavalry." Pride grinned, and Johnny finally showed another emotion than anger and confidence, he was actually concerned. "Ah, there we go. A crack in that armor of your, Johnny Blaze." Pride got ready to attack again, Johnny twirled the shining silver blade in his hand as Pride shared him, twirling it upside down and throwing it at the demon, aiming for his heart.

Like a bolt of lightning, the dagger soared through the air, piercing the demon in the chest.

He cried out in anger and pain, cursing the rider in his ancient tongue. Johnny had a smile on his lips, sure of his victory. But the demon didn't give in. His hand gripped the handle of the blade, pulling the blade out, as his hand and the wound both started burning from being in the presence of the divine blade. He threw the bloodied blade to the ground, his demonic blood lighting the ground on fire as the metal clinked to the floor. Johnny reached for his gun, but as he did, Pride was already upon him, unleashing a flurry of blows tearing him to shreds.

Cutting him up, breaking his arm, scratching him across the face again, putting Johnny on the ground with his boot-clad foot onto his chest, breaking his ribs. Johnny cried out in pain, but nobody was there to help him. The five bikes stopped beside them, and Pain motioned for the other demonic spawn to stay back. This one was his.

After breaking the last of his ribs, Pain grabbed Johnny by the neck and dangled him off the railing, below was a 20 meter drop. He was gonna choke the life out of him, and then drop him for good measure.

"You know what they say, Blaze. Pride cometh before the fall."

As Pride applied more pressure to Johnny's throat, the man's hand grabbed the shotgun and jerked it to the demon's face.
Uttering two most profound words in all of human language. Something not even the destruction of Babel could take away from us.

"Fuck. You." Johnny Told Pride, who barely managed to parry with his arm as he pulled the trigger, unleashing the second shot of hellfire-loaded shotgun shell onto the demon, a loud explosion covered the two and Pride's grip on Johnny was loosened, he careened to the ground. A man beaten and broken, fire from his gun coming off him in ironic symbolism.

P O S T C A T A L O G:

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"My name is Johnny, and it might be a sin, but I'm the best there's ever been."

One Universe: World Of Heroes - A Marvel & DC Comics RPG

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L

S U P E R M A N

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@Master Bruce

Man, they'll really let anyone put on a cape these days.

Accepted.