U N K N O W N ♦ U N K N O W N ♦ U N K N O W N ♦ U N K N N O W N
C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:
"Snap."
Everywhere Onomatopoeia goes he leaves a trail of dead superheroes in his wake. Most recently, Onomatopoeia took his talents to Star City where he placed the city's protector Green Arrow firmly in his sights. Were it not for the intervention of Oliver Queen's extended family, Connor Hawke and Mia Dearden, Onomatopoeia's attempt on Green Arrow's life would have been successful. Instead, the superhero serial killer found himself behind bars — extradited without explanation to Belle Reve, Louisiana, where he has been presented with the opportunity to put his talents to use on behalf of the US government.
A B I L I T I E S:
Onomatopoeia is a skilled hand-to-hand fighter, an expert marksman, and appears to possess near superhuman levels of durability.
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:
The character has always intrigued me. Taken together, the unique way that he communicates, the aesthetic, and his near complete-anonymity contributes to making him an interesting choice for a Suicide Squad game.
C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:
As in the comic books, Onomatopoeia will communicate exclusively through monosyllabic sound effects. So yeah, expect that I suppose. You might need to be slightly patient with me whilst I figure out exactly how to navigate having the character contribute to discussions and the like whilst staying true to that.
U N K N O W N ♦ U N K N O W N ♦ U N K N O W N ♦ U N K N N O W N
C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:
"Snap."
Everywhere Onomatopoeia goes he leaves a trail of dead superheroes in his wake. Most recently, Onomatopoeia took his talents to Star City where he placed the city's protector Green Arrow firmly in his sights. Were it not for the intervention of Oliver Queen's extended family, Connor Hawke and Mia Dearden, Onomatopoeia's attempt on Green Arrow's life would have been successful. Instead, the superhero serial killer found himself behind bars — extradited without explanation to Belle Reve, Louisiana, where he has been presented with the opportunity to put his talents to use on behalf of the US government.
A B I L I T I E S:
Onomatopoeia is a skilled hand-to-hand fighter, an expert marksman, and appears to possess near superhuman levels of durability.
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:
The character has always intrigued me. Taken together, the unique way that he communicates, the aesthetic, and his near complete-anonymity contributes to making him an interesting choice for a Suicide Squad game.
C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:
As in the comic books, Onomatopoeia will communicate exclusively through monosyllabic sound effects. So yeah, expect that I suppose. You might need to be slightly patient with me whilst I figure out exactly how to navigate having the character contribute to discussions and the like whilst staying true to that.
M I C H A E L H O L T ♦ C O N S U L T A N T ♦ A T - L A R G E ♦ N O N - A F F I L I A T E D
C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:
"The arc of the moral universe is long and bends towards justice – but sometimes it needs a little help along the way."
The Michael Holt we meet at the start of this game is still reeling from the death of his wife and child. In an effort to distract himself from the sense of loss he feels he throws himself headlong into his work but now finds it deeply unsatisfying. “Normal” life cannot resume without his family – so in its place of his old life, he crafts a new one. Holt decides to use his considerable talents for good by exposing rich and powerful people that believe their means protect them from being brought to justice. Before long, his aptitude for corporate espionage registers on Checkmate’s radar and Holt strikes up something of a partnership with King Faraday – who is more than happy to indulge Holt’s seemingly endless desire to place himself in harm’s way for a good cause.
At first it appears that Holt is able to turn down any job he pleases, but soon it becomes clear that his relationship with Checkmate is not quite as free from obligations as it seems.
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:
Mister Terrific is a fantastic character and one that I don’t think gets anywhere near as much love as he deserves. During the second season of Ultimate One Universe, I used a teenaged (and slightly rougher around the edges) Holt as the de facto leader of the Future Foundation and had hoped, had that game gone on long enough, to have him eventually "replace" Reed and lead an in-universe version of the Titans.
Obviously this time around the take is slightly more grounded. Some of my favourite concepts have been espionage-related: a long time ago I played King Faraday and really enjoyed it and later played a version of Bucky as Captain America that was more spy than superhero. It’s an interesting dynamic and gives you access to lots of different parts of the world. I very much see this Holt being quite an aggressively proactive participant in in-game affairs, and hope to have him strike up surprising partnerships with other characters and pop up in unexpected places.
C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:
Checkmate’s White Bishop serves as Terrific’s unofficial “handler” – it’s through Holt’s relationship with Faraday that the intelligence agency is able to procure Terrific’s services. At first the relationship between Holt and Checkmate is informal but after taking on several jobs for them, the informality of their arrangement begins to create issues, placing no shortage of tension on Faraday and Holt’s friendship. Despite their warmth for one another, it’s unclear the extent to which Faraday is “working” Holt and vice versa.
Terrific has little to no direct contact with Checkmate’s White Queen but it’s evident that Waller holds Holt’s skills in high regard. That Holt believes he is able to pick and choose which operations he takes from Checkmate however is the cause of some enmity between him and the White Queen – with Faraday often caught in the middle of the two. Holt appears to distrust Waller for reasons that are not yet clear.
Over the past few years, the chief executive of Lord Aerospace has become the posterboy of the military-industrial complex – his desire to dominate the arms market has led to him aggressively buying out his competitors to the tune of hundreds of billions of dollars. To the public, Lord is an example of American exceptionalism: intelligent, charming, and good-looking to boot. But behind Lord’s carefully-cultivated image lies something sinister that has earned him a place on Michael Holt’s list.
S A M P L E P O S T:
Westchester, New York
From the corner of Michael Holt’s eye he spied the psychiatrist watching over him scribble something down on her notepad. Mariah Mitchell's mouth was moving too, he was certain of that, but he didn’t deign to listen into the words that were escaping it. He had been to countless sessions since the accident and none of them had brought him any closer to feeling whole. It didn’t help that Holt was better qualified in the field of psychology than every psychiatrist he had visited to date, including Mitchell. Instead, Michael simply shut his eyes and let the undetectable T-spheres that hovered beside him continue about their work.
A grainy recording of Terry Sloane began to play in Holt’s mind. Sloane's voice was gravelly, worn down by a lifetime of stress and exertion, but the gravitas was still there. It was his integrity that had first captured Holt’s imagination – and the hours of recordings he’d stumbled upon had been revelatory in the months since. To the rest of the world, the J-Men were a hoky urban legend: but hearing Sloane speak of his experiences in his own words was like being transported through time.
“<Dodds? Yeah, Dodds was something of a character to put it politely. Used to give a few of the boys the creeps with that mask of his. Truth be told though, he had a good heart. Wesley was like me, you know? A man of means. He didn’t have to be out there fighting the good fight. When he saw injustice he couldn’t help but run towards it. We were the same in that way.>”
Simultaneously, one of Holt’s T-spheres projected the image of Cyberwear’s CFO into the air in front of Michael’s face. As with the spheres, the message was invisible to the unsuspecting psychiatrist and it appeared as if Holt was simply staring off into space. In truth, he was listening to Sloane speak and processing near-to three hundred pages worth of information sent over by his CFO in a matter of seconds. A lesser man's brain might have wilted underneath it all but Holt looked like he was barely breaking a sweat as the portly, moustachioed man spoke.
“<Lord’s breathing down our necks. Heck, he’s been breathing down everyone’s necks since buying out Kord Industries, but with a little bit of grit, we should be able to see him off for another quarter or two. I know the past year has been tough on you, but if we’re going to survive this without the board turning on us, you’re going to have to be a little more present, Michael.>”
Finally, a lithe figure in a beige suit and open-collared blue shirt appeared behind the psychiatrist’s desk. It shimmered slightly as if both there and not there at the same time. Somehow it interacted with its surroundings despite being a pre-recorded message. King Faraday, his shock of silver hair bouncing gently as he walked around the psychiatrist’s office, spoke directly to the operative he knew as Mister Terrific.
“<Holt, it’s me. The White Queen has been in touch. She has a new assignment for you. I think you’re going to like this one. You know where to find me if you’re interested. Faraday out.>”
The message ended and from the chair next to him Holt heard Mitchell clear her throat curtly. His hands relaxed from behind his head and he pushed himself up from the seat to look in the psychiatrist's direction. It was clear that despite Holt’s best efforts, she suspected he had not quite been paying attention.
“I hope you don’t mind me saying, Michael, but I feel like your mind is elsewhere this afternoon.”
For a second, Holt considered lying but decided doing so would only compound his original sin. “I'm sorry, it’s been a bit of a stressful week.”
“You’re an incredibly intelligent man,” Mitchell said with an empathic smile. “You don’t need me to tell you that you’re never going to get the most out of these sessions unless you commit to them. So let me ask you this: what do you want to achieve by coming here, Michael?”
Suddenly the smiling face of Paula Holt appeared in Michael's mind. He heard her laugh ring through his ears and allowed his longing to feel the touch of her skin against his in for a moment, but quickly exorcised those feelings when they become too much. There was nothing that could be done for him. He could never bring Paula back and no amount of talking could change that. What it would do though was help Holt assuage his shareholder’s doubts about his wellbeing and keep Maxwell Lord from its door for a while.
“I want the same thing everyone wants,” Holt shrugged. “I want to be happy. I want to wake up in the morning and feel like I have a reason to get out of bed but life took that from me. Now I suppose what motivates me is the thought of leaving the world a better place than I found it.”
Mitchell gave a polite nod. “And is leaving the world a better place mutually exclusive with happiness? Surely the two can coexist?”
“You would think so, wouldn’t you?”
Holt flashed a quixotic smile and Mariah looked taken aback by the comment. The watch on Holt’s wrist began to vibrate and Mitchell turned her head to peer at the clock at the end of the room. Their session had ended and, as ever, Holt had places to be. He was on his feet before Mariah had a chance to respond and it was clear that Holt was lost to her again. A rare moment of insight had been lost.
Faraday’s ghostly figure reappeared and on auto-pilot Holt extended a hand in Mitchell's direction. “Same time next week?”
I'm struggling to see the downside of starting the game sooner? It enables those that want to post sooner the ability to do so. If you're not ready by Friday, you don't miss out on anything because the game has been open for one more day and other people have been able to post.
T R E M O R ♦ V I R T U E ♦ A N A R K Y ♦ B U N K E R
C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T
"We are the forgotten."
The American Dream. The idea that anyone can achieve success through hard work and determination in the United States of America. No barriers. No restraints. However, somewhere along the way, it died and became a trap to lure the desperate. While they may still obtain their freedom, they are forever stuck in the bottom while those in the top remain untouched. In recent years, there had been movements and groups that tried to challenge the system and demand meaningful change. But like everything that tends to happen, they were either crushed or forgotten by the majority of the population.
That was until now.
Non-stop protests across racism, police brutality, and other problems plaguing America. While people are protesting for change, there are four individuals who know what's going to happen next. They decide to stand their ground and force change as the American Dream is slowly decaying. They have been affected by both the dream and the system. They have been forgotten by those in their ivory towers. They are Misfits.
Tremor: Being a second-generation Indian American, Roshanna Chatterji spent her life trying to achieve the dream. That was until a drunk driver forever changed her life. Her mother died on the scene while her father lost feeling on his legs. The driver turned out to be the offspring of a well-known businesswoman, who was able to sweep the incident under the table while the Chatterjis had to deal with the medical bills. Her father became addicted and overdosed on painkillers. Roshanna left shortly after the funeral.
Virtue: Holly Ann Fields witnessed her father getting beaten to death by police officers after being mistaken for a robbery suspect. The officers involved in the murder got away, but the police department was forced to pay the Ann-Fields in a settlement. That caused some in the department to start harassing them for years. Getting tired of it, Holly exposed them in a post that went viral and painted a huge target on her back. Being a small-town police department, they were able to send her a clear message. Fearing for her life, Holly fled to protect her family.
Anarky: A Gothamite that grew up on the East Side of Gotham City, Lonnie Machin lived in an abusive household where his parents treated him like garbage. They were struggling to pay rent so his father began working for the Beretti crime family. His mother started stealing for the people that she was cleaning for. Eventually, both of them were caught and sent to prison for the crime of surviving in a fucked up place like Gotham. Lonnie was put in a statehouse and faced more abuse until he was kicked when he became eighteen.
Bunker: Miguel Barragan was unaware of being an undocumented citizen until he tried to apply for a driver's license. He tried to remain under the radar for most of his senior year until he came home to an empty house one day. His parents and baby sister were picked up by immigration agents. Fortunately, he was able to stay in a friend's house while he earned his high school diploma. Yet, the constant fear that someone was going to take him away caused him to leave. He had been on the move for a year now.
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
This is my backup, backup character. Anyway, like with Batman and Son of Zod, I still want to focus on and explore the real America. Not the one made up by propagandists and fantasized by older generations. And each of the four main characters has been affected by the flaws of the United States (Tremor: Healthcare and Big Pharma; Virtue: Police Brutality and Corruption; Anarky: Poverty and the System; and, Bunker: Undocumented and Immigration). If you're one of those people that hates politics in media (especially in video games and comics), you aren't going to enjoy this.
Yet, not every post is going to be political. I want to explain how these met up with each other and formed The Misfits. Explore how they go on with their lives in a post-Cold War/9-11 world. And I want to develop The Misfits into a respectable group that bow to neither the authorities nor the government. Hopefully, our characters are able to interact with each other and explore the fundamental differences between them.
And I should mention that this group is based on The Movement. I just changed the name (because it was too on the nose) and removed/added some characters. I hope that's fine.
C H A R A C T E R N O T E S
Coral City, California: A city with a corrupt police department and a corrupt city hall.
Channel M: A hacker collective that plans on exposing corruption across the United States of America, starting with California.
S A M P L E P O S T
BATMAN
Archie Goodwin International Airport
0.00 // A Bitter Sweet Reunion
Six years ago, Bruce Wayne bid farewell to his friends and family before departing his hometown to see the world. To find himself away from the place that changed his life forever. In secret, he spent those years learning everything required to uphold his promise. Boxing with the world-famous Wildcat in Boston, acrobatics at a circus in Cologne, intimidation and interrogation from former Spetsnaz agents at Norilsk, and plenty of other useful skills learned across the world. It wasn't cheap nor painless, but he appreciated every single one of his teachers. There was more to learn, but the life-changing experience in the caves of New Mexico opened his eyes to something possible.
Upon setting foot on the epoxy flooring of the lavish airport, Wayne saw how much it had changed since he left it years ago. It got an expensive makeover along with a new terminal facility and runway thanks to donations from infamous Carmine Falcone. Almost everyone knew that he was Don of the Falcone Crime Family, but it was clear that the politicians and police were in his pocket. Wayne approached a massive fountain, inspired by the Fontana del Tritone in Rome, and read the plaque:
THE FOUNTAIN OF GOTHAM Donated by the Falcone Family in honor of Gotham City's rich history. Any coins generously thrown will go support Gotham General Hospital.
Wayne reached into his pocket, pulled out a quarter, and flicked it at the fountain. Then, he made his way outside and saw Gotham's skyline for the first time in years. There were several skyscrapers still unfinished in various stages of completion, just like it was years ago. Mayor Hill and the city council talked about having Gotham City's skyline rival Metropolis' or even New York City's. Of course, it was all nonsense because the project cost billions. But, it seemed that the same family is helping to make that dream a reality (along with a few other wealthy families and individuals). Even with the touch-up, it was meant to cover up the city's ugly truth.
And all someone had to do was drive beyond the tourist attractions.
"Did you say Park Row?" the taxi driver asked Wayne.
"Yeah... The Community Clinic." Wayne answered while watching the driver's reaction through the rearview mirror. It was clear that he was nervous and scared about traveling there. Nevertheless, the driver didn't say anything and kept on driving. There was reason to fear Park Row that Wayne couldn't even dismiss. It was filled with criminals and became a hotbed of crimes ranging from robbery to murder. The clinic was always filled with patients that sought aid and safety without judgment. It was one of the few remaining reminders of its past before... that night.
The taxi driver stopped in front of the clinic and unlocked only Wayne's door. He exited out of the cab and went to pay the driver. Wayne tried to thank the driver, but he already sped off. He didn't blame the driver for wanting to leave. After all, he was terrified of going to Park Row and being robbed at knifepoint. The truth was that nobody was going to bother robbing a tax driver, but the lie was still being spread by the police, politicians, and the media. Interested in seeing his surrogate family, Wayne made his way inside the clinic.
Once inside, Wayne noticed the people waiting for their names to be called. It wasn't crowded as usual on a weekday, which was either a good or bad sign. Immediately, a familiar voice called out his name. "Bruce?!"
It was Marva Cooper still working at the garage based on the grease stains on her overalls. She gave him a tight hug before asking, "What the hell are you doing back?!"
"Got tired of exploring the world." Wayne answered sarcastically and then noticed that she was at the clinic. "What are you doing here?"
"Just waiting for my dad to finish up with his appointment. Nothing serious, just a routine checkup ordered by Leslie herself." Cooper sat back down and waited for Wayne to sit next to her. She noticed that he had something on his mind and decided to say something. "Hey, are you alright?"
"I... Actually, I have a favor to ask you and your father."
"Yeah, what is-" Before she could finish, the door opened for Earl Cooper as he was walking out with Dr. Leslie Thompkins behind him. They were in the middle of talking when Thompkins noticed Wayne, sitting there. She didn't believe it at first. But, it was a huge relief to know that he was alive after not writing back for a few weeks. Bruce got up and hugged her before she could've started crying her eyes out. Earl, meanwhile, walked over to his daughter and placed his hand on her shoulder. Both of them watched Wayne and Thompkins having a touching reunion.
Honestly, I've been inspired by the number of people that have put in for characters after other people posted their sheets – and even more so, those that have persevered and applied for second and third choice characters when they've missed out on their first choice. Well done everyone.
M I C H A E L H O L T ♦ C O N S U L T A N T ♦ A T - L A R G E ♦ N O N - A F F I L I A T E D
C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:
"The arc of the moral universe is long and bends towards justice – but sometimes it needs a little help along the way."
The Michael Holt we meet at the start of this game is still reeling from the death of his wife and child. In an effort to distract himself from the sense of loss he feels he throws himself headlong into his work but now finds it deeply unsatisfying. “Normal” life cannot resume without his family – so in its place of his old life, he crafts a new one. Holt decides to use his considerable talents for good by exposing rich and powerful people that believe their means protect them from being brought to justice. Before long, his aptitude for corporate espionage registers on Checkmate’s radar and Holt strikes up something of a partnership with King Faraday – who is more than happy to indulge Holt’s seemingly endless desire to place himself in harm’s way for a good cause.
At first it appears that Holt is able to turn down any job he pleases, but soon it becomes clear that his relationship with Checkmate is not quite as free from obligations as it seems.
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:
Mister Terrific is a fantastic character and one that I don’t think gets anywhere near as much love as he deserves. During the second season of Ultimate One Universe, I used a teenaged (and slightly rougher around the edges) Holt as the de facto leader of the Future Foundation and had hoped, had that game gone on long enough, to have him eventually "replace" Reed and lead an in-universe version of the Titans.
Obviously this time around the take is slightly more grounded. Some of my favourite concepts have been espionage-related: a long time ago I played King Faraday and really enjoyed it and later played a version of Bucky as Captain America that was more spy than superhero. It’s an interesting dynamic and gives you access to lots of different parts of the world. I very much see this Holt being quite an aggressively proactive participant in in-game affairs, and hope to have him strike up surprising partnerships with other characters and pop up in unexpected places.
C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:
Checkmate’s White Bishop serves as Terrific’s unofficial “handler” – it’s through Holt’s relationship with Faraday that the intelligence agency is able to procure Terrific’s services. At first the relationship between Holt and Checkmate is informal but after taking on several jobs for them, the informality of their arrangement begins to create issues, placing no shortage of tension on Faraday and Holt’s friendship. Despite their warmth for one another, it’s unclear the extent to which Faraday is “working” Holt and vice versa.
Terrific has little to no direct contact with Checkmate’s White Queen but it’s evident that Waller holds Holt’s skills in high regard. That Holt believes he is able to pick and choose which operations he takes from Checkmate however is the cause of some enmity between him and the White Queen – with Faraday often caught in the middle of the two. Holt appears to distrust Waller for reasons that are not yet clear.
Over the past few years, the chief executive of Lord Aerospace has become the posterboy of the military-industrial complex – his desire to dominate the arms market has led to him aggressively buying out his competitors to the tune of hundreds of billions of dollars. To the public, Lord is an example of American exceptionalism: intelligent, charming, and good-looking to boot. But behind Lord’s carefully-cultivated image lies something sinister that has earned him a place on Michael Holt’s list.
S A M P L E P O S T:
Westchester, New York
From the corner of Michael Holt’s eye he spied the psychiatrist watching over him scribble something down on her notepad. Mariah Mitchell's mouth was moving too, he was certain of that, but he didn’t deign to listen into the words that were escaping it. He had been to countless sessions since the accident and none of them had brought him any closer to feeling whole. It didn’t help that Holt was better qualified in the field of psychology than every psychiatrist he had visited to date, including Mitchell. Instead, Michael simply shut his eyes and let the undetectable T-spheres that hovered beside him continue about their work.
A grainy recording of Terry Sloane began to play in Holt’s mind. Sloane's voice was gravelly, worn down by a lifetime of stress and exertion, but the gravitas was still there. It was his integrity that had first captured Holt’s imagination – and the hours of recordings he’d stumbled upon had been revelatory in the months since. To the rest of the world, the J-Men were a hoky urban legend: but hearing Sloane speak of his experiences in his own words was like being transported through time.
“<Dodds? Yeah, Dodds was something of a character to put it politely. Used to give a few of the boys the creeps with that mask of his. Truth be told though, he had a good heart. Wesley was like me, you know? A man of means. He didn’t have to be out there fighting the good fight. When he saw injustice he couldn’t help but run towards it. We were the same in that way.>”
Simultaneously, one of Holt’s T-spheres projected the image of Cyberwear’s CFO into the air in front of Michael’s face. As with the spheres, the message was invisible to the unsuspecting psychiatrist and it appeared as if Holt was simply staring off into space. In truth, he was listening to Sloane speak and processing near-to three hundred pages worth of information sent over by his CFO in a matter of seconds. A lesser man's brain might have wilted underneath it all but Holt looked like he was barely breaking a sweat as the portly, moustachioed man spoke.
“<Lord’s breathing down our necks. Heck, he’s been breathing down everyone’s necks since buying out Kord Industries, but with a little bit of grit, we should be able to see him off for another quarter or two. I know the past year has been tough on you, but if we’re going to survive this without the board turning on us, you’re going to have to be a little more present, Michael.>”
Finally, a lithe figure in a beige suit and open-collared blue shirt appeared behind the psychiatrist’s desk. It shimmered slightly as if both there and not there at the same time. Somehow it interacted with its surroundings despite being a pre-recorded message. King Faraday, his shock of silver hair bouncing gently as he walked around the psychiatrist’s office, spoke directly to the operative he knew as Mister Terrific.
“<Holt, it’s me. The White Queen has been in touch. She has a new assignment for you. I think you’re going to like this one. You know where to find me if you’re interested. Faraday out.>”
The message ended and from the chair next to him Holt heard Mitchell clear her throat curtly. His hands relaxed from behind his head and he pushed himself up from the seat to look in the psychiatrist's direction. It was clear that despite Holt’s best efforts, she suspected he had not quite been paying attention.
“I hope you don’t mind me saying, Michael, but I feel like your mind is elsewhere this afternoon.”
For a second, Holt considered lying but decided doing so would only compound his original sin. “I'm sorry, it’s been a bit of a stressful week.”
“You’re an incredibly intelligent man,” Mitchell said with an empathic smile. “You don’t need me to tell you that you’re never going to get the most out of these sessions unless you commit to them. So let me ask you this: what do you want to achieve by coming here, Michael?”
Suddenly the smiling face of Paula Holt appeared in Michael's mind. He heard her laugh ring through his ears and allowed his longing to feel the touch of her skin against his in for a moment, but quickly exorcised those feelings when they become too much. There was nothing that could be done for him. He could never bring Paula back and no amount of talking could change that. What it would do though was help Holt assuage his shareholder’s doubts about his wellbeing and keep Maxwell Lord from its door for a while.
“I want the same thing everyone wants,” Holt shrugged. “I want to be happy. I want to wake up in the morning and feel like I have a reason to get out of bed but life took that from me. Now I suppose what motivates me is the thought of leaving the world a better place than I found it.”
Mitchell gave a polite nod. “And is leaving the world a better place mutually exclusive with happiness? Surely the two can coexist?”
“You would think so, wouldn’t you?”
Holt flashed a quixotic smile and Mariah looked taken aback by the comment. The watch on Holt’s wrist began to vibrate and Mitchell turned her head to peer at the clock at the end of the room. Their session had ended and, as ever, Holt had places to be. He was on his feet before Mariah had a chance to respond and it was clear that Holt was lost to her again. A rare moment of insight had been lost.
Faraday’s ghostly figure reappeared and on auto-pilot Holt extended a hand in Mitchell's direction. “Same time next week?”
“If everything seems under control, you're not going fast enough.”
Bartholomew Henry Allen ♦ Crime Scene Technician ♦ Central City, Missouri ♦ Flash Family
C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:
Born in 2002, Bart Allen is the oldest son to Barry and Iris Allen. His younger brother Wally was born in 2003. Barry Allen was a famous detective with the Central City Police, solving the famous Murmur Murders alongside his partner, Jay Garrick. Finding himself always a bit of a social outcast, Bart always had a love comic book superheroes and science. During his senior year in high school, Bart was working late at the high school science lab when an accident happened. The accident granted Bart mysterious super-powers.
Remembering the comic heroes of his youth, Bart took up a costume and became one of them. The Flash. Bart attends Keystone University as a freshman and plans on majoring in criminal justice while being the fastest man alive.
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:
Straight up, this is me taking an old character I ran with (phrasing) ten years ago and trying a new approach. UDC Flash was easily one of my favorite characters I've ever RPed, so I'm going to see if I can make it better now that I'm older and far less wiser
C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:
Supporting Characters:
Barry Allen - Bart's dad, police detective. Iris West Allen - Bart's mom, newspaper editor. Wally Allen - Bart's younger brother. Jesse Quick - Wally's girlfriend. Daughter of a famous athlete. Ralph Dibny - Bart's best friend, away at Ivy Town U. Valerie Perez - Freshman in Bart's bio class, he has a crush on her. Jay Garrick - Family friend and Barry's boss. Lenny Snart - Small time criminal. Michelle Rory - Snart's girlfriend, total firebug. The Top - Mysterious Central City crimelord. Grodd - Equally mysterious crimelord. The Top's competition. Edward Thawne - Bart's physic's professor.
S A M P L E P O S T:
Barry's unmarked car skidded to a stop just outside the police blockade. Civilians were crowded around the cars and barriers, some of them muttering nervously to each other, but most staying silent. Barry pushed his way through the crowd and towards the front. Grouped with the rest of the cops was Barry's partner and best friend.
"Jay," he said as he approached.
"Barry," Jay said in a low voice. Jay led Barry away out of earshot from the rest of the cops.
"Why aren't we out there?" He asked, pointing over Jay's shoulder to downtown. "Bar-- The Flash needs our help."
"That nutjob out there said if the cops or anyone else even gets close, he'll blow the city up with some funky ass IED. Commissioner Dolan said we were to make a perimeter around downtown and let Flash take care of it."
"Have you seen what they're doing?" Barry asked with raised eyebrows. On cue, a loud sonic boom echoed from two blocks over. The boom shook the buildings and sent screams and murmurs through the crowd.
"I can see it," said Jay, looking his friend in the eye. "I can see what he's doing to Bart."
"Do something!" Said Barry through his teeth. "I thought you were some hotshot hero back in the day?"
"I... I can't," said Jay, swallowing hard. He looked down at his feet and back up at Barry. "My speed... It's gone. It got burned out last year when I helped Bart out. I can't help him."
Barry shook his head. He looked back at the crowd, and then back at Jay.
"I'm going in."
"You can't!" shouted Jay. "You don't think I want to be out here?! Watching as he gets his head kicked in?! Powerless to stop it?! NO! But I have to do it, it's my duty as an officer of the law to protect these people over the one person."
"Well, here," Barry said, pulling his badge off. He put it in Jay's open hand and began to walk towards downtown. "As a father, it's my duty to protect that one person."
I crawled across the pavement, Thawne skipped along beside me. He was having his fun, like a cat playing with a dying mouse. I started to get up, only to have my legs swept out from under me. I smack against the pavement and was crushed by a flurry of super-fast fists smacking my chest.
"Come on!" Thawne yelled out. "You want to show these people you deserve their love and their respect, then you have to earn it. Save them, hero."
A kick in the ribs, this one knocking a few ribs free. I screamed in pain as I could feel a rib poking my lungs.
"Get up and fight me. Fight me, save the day, and then reap the rewards. Either you fight me, or I kill you."
Powerful hands grabbed my neck and I was up in the air, Thawne in my face.
"I kill you, this ends up worse for everyone. You die and then I go to town on those you care about. Your mother, your cop dad, little brother, that old washed up police captain, sweet Valerie Perez, stupid Ralph Dibny, All of them dead by my hand. And if you think this is the worst I can do, then you are wrong."
"No," I mumbled, my hands reeling back. "NO!"
I brought my hands up at the speed of sound, clapping right in Thawne's face. A sonic boom split the air, sending both of us back reeling. The blow disoriented Thawne and sent him twirling backwards while I shook the cobwebs from my head. By the time he rights himself he finds my fist in his face.
I slammed him towards the ground with the punch, kicking him sideways before he can hit the pavement. His body spins to the right and smashes into a parked car. He tires to get up but I knock him back down. I hit him again, and again, and again. I ignored the blood making my hand slick as I punch. I'm in my own world, imaging what he would do to my family and those I love. I'm wrapped up in my hate. All my rage and frustration, anger at Thawne's evil, my dad's disowning of me, the Justice League and their moral compromises. My own feelings of being powerless. I put it all into my fists as I pound Thawne through the car and into the ground.
What brings me around isn't the sound of the smacks against Thawne's head, or my own sobbing... It's the laughter.
"Hehehe," Thawne wheezed between blows.
That noise, the sound of him... enjoying it. That makes me stop. I look down at the bloody and bruised man, my fist still suspended in the air. He looks up at my fist with swollen eyes expectantly, and then back at me.
"Do it. Kill me."
"No," I said, stepping away. I talk between ragged breaths. "No matter what you do, or what you say, I will not do what you want. Killing you is what you want, isn't it? Pushing me over the edge. You want to ruin me... you won't."
"DO IT!" He screamed. "Do it or I'll destroy that atom smasher, the backlash will--"
There was a shimmer in my movement. Now in my hands were a clump of wires and cables.
"--create a chain reaction that--"
"--Will destroy Central and Keystone. Got it. But, not much of a chain reaction can happen with this," I said, holding up the plug of the deactivated atom smasher. "Come on, Thawne, you hid it in that storage locker you rent in your own name. I found the key when I was rooting through your house a few microseconds ago. That reminds me, you need to water your plants."
"You couldn't have moved that fast. I... I saw you."
"Yeah, world's fastest man over here. Sorry, buddy, I'm calm and collected now, I got my second wind, and I just saved the day. You lose!"
"NO!" He screamed. He lunged out at me. I went to step away, but I misjudged Thawne's trajectory. He grabbed my knee and twisted. I heard a pop and crumpled to the ground.
I saw it all in slow motion. Thawne scrambled to get on top of me. I batted him away, but he recovered quickly. His long, bony fingers wrapped around my neck. Spittle flew from Thawne's mouth, his face frozen in a snarl. His hands began to ring my neck and I struggled against his hard grip. I thrashed and struggled for oxygen, doing my best to throw him off me. Black spots formed around my eyes, my eyesight dimming. The last thing I saw before it went to black: Ed Thawne, the Professor, with a twisted grin on his face.
Mom, dad, Wally, Val, Jay, and Ralph. I'm sorry I failed you.
He won.
BLAM!
I gasped, air rushing back to my lungs. I coughed violently, my body shaking as my lungs gulped down the oxygen it had been denied. Through watering eyes I looked up. To the side was Thawne wth his eyes staring forward in an unfocused stare. He had a bloody hole in his forehead. CSI 101: An exit wound. Standing in front of me, clutching a smoking gun, my father.
"Dad?"
"Get up, Bart," he said. Over his shoulder I could see a fleet of police cars rushing down the street towards our location. "Get up now!"
I sprung to my feet as he yelled. Suddenly, I'm eight years old again and I'm in trouble for trying to take Nancy Jones' Tamagotchi.
"What did you do?"
"Go," he said, the cop cars getting closer. "Run, Bart. Run!"
And I did the only thing I seemed to be good at lately:
I ran.
I ran from the scene, I ran from Central, I ran from Missouri and America, I kept running across the world. Running, and running, and running. Running from something I knew deep down I couldn't outrun:
Simple Unicycle
Fetzen
