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And I've got some more stuff coming in the next couple of days (hopefully). I might be online a little less this week because I have an insane work schedule, but that should be wrapping up in the next week or so.


Scott didn’t remember the trip from the site of Nightmare’s massacre back to his home, however, he found himself struggling to make his way down the short hallway to the door of his apartment. In all his life, he couldn’t remember ever being in so much pain. His suit was warm and sticky from the blood that had oozed from his wounds, and his leg felt like a mangled mess. Though he had already begun healing, it would take time for him to fully recover from his injuries.

And in the back of his mind, he still felt a strange fear prying against his consciousness, forcing itself upon him. He had never faced anything quite like Nightmare, and he didn’t know if he could defeat the monster. He was afraid and unsure of himself, and it was almost as if his doubts were those of someone else. He tried to pinpoint exactly when he began to experience these feelings, and eventually it came to him.

The lack of confidence and fear that he felt came on shortly after the woman in black and gold had engulfed him in that strange black flame. From that moment, he had not felt completely like himself. However, he was unsure if that was the cause of these feelings, or a mere coincidence. However, it didn’t matter whether it was caused by the strange woman or not. It was something that he knew that he would need to overcome if he was going to have any shot at defeating Nightmare.

Finally, he limped to him apartment door and slowly opened it. He could hear the TV in the living room and had assumed that Eric had stayed in order to wait up for him. Eric had been concerned for him when he returned from the Valor Institute, and had tried to talk him out of trying to find Nightmare.

He was right, I had no business going after that monster. Scott thought to himself as he limped into the apartment.

As he sat on the couch, Eric Dean heard the front door open to the apartment, and a wave of relief washed over him. The events from earlier in the night were splashed all across the television screen. Countless ravers were dead, as were a number of STRIKE agents, apparently at the hands of the murderous psychopath Nightmare.

“About time you got home, I was starting to…”He never finished his sentence. He looked over to his friend and saw the tattered costume, the bruises on his face…and the blood. He had never seen so much blood in his life. His friend, who he had always thought of as untouchable, looked as if he’d been mauled half to death by a wild animal.

Scott looked to Eric, and began to say something, however the words never came out. Instead, his entire world turned to darkness as he fell to the floor.
Paper Angel said
Character you have created: Asya Faye
Alias: Nyx


I'm going to go ahead and approve you. I am familiar enough with the character and how you write her that I'm going to say that's fine.
I've also been working on a post, however I'll have to finish it tomorrow because I have to work at the new job early in the morning. Hopefully I'll have time to work on a couple of them tomorrow once I get home.
This game is 100% original characters. We don't have established characters like The Mask in this game.
OK...sorry about that. Ended up getting called into work on my day off. It's been a crazy few days and that's why I haven't been on as much over the last week. I'm going to try to get some work done on a post tomorrow, if not I should have something up Saturday
Should have a post up tomorrow
been a hectic couple of days. Posts coming soon.
Quick Icon post is up, I did cut it a bit short (I swear, it looked longer in Word lol). I'll be getting more up soon.


After several minutes, Icon finally began to slowly stir. He was in immense pain. The gashes on his back burned, his ribs ached so badly that it was difficult for the hero to draw breath, and his leg felt as if it were broken. First he slowly sat up, and then, leaning against the wall which he had been thrown into, he attempted to stand.

He didn’t know what the creature Nightmare was, however he did know that he had never come up against anything like him. He wondered what had happened, where had Nightmare and the gold and black clad woman run off to, and why didn’t they finish him off.

Then he saw them.

A group of men, or what was left of them in STRIKE tactical gear strewn among the party goers, blood and body parts littered the floor of the warehouse. It was then that he realized what must have happened. While he was down, STRIKE had come in to try to take the killer down, but again were overmatched by the monster.

With no signs of Nightmare or his cohort, and barely able to walk, Icon made his way toward the exit of the warehouse, and froze in place when he saw the parting gift that the pair had left. Something that sent a shiver down his spine as he looked upon the gruesome image that had been left for the public to see. A grotesque work of art, born of blood and fire, etched onto the floor of the warehouse.

A simple message, meant not necessarily for him, but for the media and more importantly, STRIKE. However, as gazed at the grotesque writing that lay upon the floor, for the first time he questioned himself. He had faced a number of threats in his time in Lost Haven, however, never anything quite like Nightmare. For the first time, he didn't believe that he could win. For the first time, he was afraid.

Hello Lost Haven
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