Avatar of Simple Unicycle

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6 mos ago
Current My source is I made it the fuck up.
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Bio

An absolute clown with a fascination for faceless men who punch criminals.

Guaranteed to flake out of RPs 100% of the time.

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Location: Hub City, Illinois - United States

Interaction(s): None
Previously: Who Are You?


As a car pulled through the alley and up to the shack, I ducked behind a garbage can, carefully peeking out to watch. Out of the car stepped an older man, early-60s at least, with slicked back grey hair and a cane. Coming out of the car with him was a man in his 30s with a black crew cut and a rugged face, with a pistol at his side and a cigarette on his lips. The old man took a moment to adjust his suit and tie, before the two of them entered the derelict shack.

I slipped out of my hiding place and leaned against the wall, peeking into the shack. The thugs playing Go Fish suddenly stood up from their chairs and turned to the old man as he walked through the door. The younger guy leaned against the doorway, taking a drag from his cigarette before flicking it onto the wooden floor. Quickly, he produced another from his pack, lit it with an old zippo, and went right back to puffing. God, I could go for a cigarette right now...

The old man began speaking to the thugs. "I take it you fools have been keeping busy waiting for us? How was your card game going?"

"Uh, it was going good, boss! Real good!" I almost had to choke out a laugh at the man's forced enthusiasm. This old guy must really scare the hell out of them for a hardened thug to be acting like this.

Old guy didn't look amused. He gave a small tsk, shaking his head slightly, before stepping forward. "Yes, yes, good to hear. Have you made any progress in your search?" Search, huh? That sounded promising. The only question was, search for what?

"We ain't gonna find the Question, he'd get the drop on us and not the other way around." That caused my eyes to widen beneath my mask. They're looking for me? I suppose I should be flattered. "So we've been spreading rumors about this place, saying that there's something big gonna go down. Sooner or later, it'll get back to him. He'll come here, and we'll take him down."

Shit. Roscoe might have had good intentions telling me about the tip he heard, but he'd unknowingly led me right to a trap. It'd be best to just get out of here now, come up with a plan of attack and return later... Yes, that sounded good. Slowly, I pushed myself away from my place on the wall, crouching down to walk past the window and avoid detection...

*BLAM!*

A gunshot! I whipped around, staring at the people in the shack through the shattered window. The chainsmoking man had his gun out, the barrel smoking, and pointed dead at me. For a moment, he and I stared at each other, while the others looked shocked. Not waiting for him to make the first move, I turned tail and ran. He fired another shot, clipping my shoulder and sending me tumbling to the ground.

Then, darkness.

The next thing I remembered, I was bound up in a dark room.


-----


The sudden burst of memory hit me like a freight train, and I found myself gripping my head trying to contain the pain... These guys were looking for me. The question was, why? Why did they want me? Why did they keep me alive? If they wanted to get rid of me so bad, shouldn't they have just shot me dead right there? So many questions, no answers.

Doesn't matter. What does matter is that right now there are thugs making their way to me. As the sound of footsteps approached the door, I slowly back up to a stall, opening it and slipping inside. There, I got up on the toilet and kept my head low, so they couldn't spot me too easily. I heard the door open, and the footsteps were even clearer than before...

"Come on out, ya faceless freak! I won't hurt ya... Much!" I almost scoffed. Talk about a generic threat. Once he throws this stall door open, he's gonna be in a world of hurt. I listened carefully, holding my breath. He was taking his time, opening stall door after stall door, whistling lowly all the while. I felt the knot of excitement in my gut tighten, waiting for release...

He opened the door, and I reacted quickly. I kept a firm grip on the top of the stalls and swung myself forward, my feet meeting his face. I heard the crack of his nose breaking, felt his shattered teeth digging into the soles of my shoes. He let out an ungodly scream of agony, falling to the ground. My grip on the stall's walls kept me from falling, and I let go once I had good footing on the ground.

Blood stained the once white bathroom tiles, and the thug was squirming in agony, clutching at his messed up face. I heard the sound of running footsteps approaching the bathroom, and quickly picked up the thug. Moving to the door, I stopped next to it, waiting for the others to burst in. Any second now...

I didn't have to wait long.

One of them burst right in, and I threw his buddy onto him. The two of them fell into a heap on the ground. Another was close behind the one who just walked in, and I clapped my hands onto his ears. Disoriented, he tried to raise his gun, but quickly smacked it aside and rammed an open palm into his throat, cutting off his airway. He fell to the ground, gasping for a breath that wouldn't come, and I turned my attention to the one who was still on the ground.

"YOU SON OF A BITCH! I'LL FUCKIN' KILL Y-" His shouts were cut off by a sharp kick to the face, and he fell limp. The others weren't here yet, must've been in other rooms. I looked around for some sort of weapon, before heading back to the stall. The toilet tank cover. That'll work. I picked it up, grunting a bit at the weight of it, before heading out into the hall.

Down the hall, I saw the remining men fast approaching me. Four in all, no guns on them, just their fists. At least I had a bit of an advantage there. One of them immediately went into a sprint when he saw me, throwing a wild haymaker my way once he was near me. I ducked out of the way of the blow, then swung the cover into his knee. His leg broke like a matchstick, and he fell to the ground, gripping his broken limb and shrieking in pain. One down.

The other three were a bit more cautious, slowly inching towards me and quickly jerking back if I made any sudden moves. Must have been scared. No clue why, I was just a guy in a cheap suit and a cheaper mask. One of them finally mustered up the courage to attack, throwing a punch; I tried to dodge, but he must've been waiting for that, because he quickly brought his hand around to catch me in the side of the head. I dropped the toilet tank cover on reflex, reaching up to the side of my head.

That upped the courage of the other two, who quickly rushed forward to attack. One of them went for a cross punch which caught me in the gut and caused me to bend over in pain, while the other tackled me to the floor. He was right on top of me now, landing hit after hit on my face. Shit, this is it, isn't it? I'm done for...

It was then that an idea popped into my head.

He continued to wail on me for a bit, but after a few more hits I went limp. Slowly, he stopped punching, then got up off of me. "Shit, he's dead. Boss'll have our heads for this," the one who was going to town on me said.

"Shit, we'll dump him. Say he escaped. That'll be better than us killing him, boss'll just dock our pay instead." The second thug paused, picking me up by the legs. "Help me with him, will ya?" Now two of them were carrying me. This wasn't what I was counting on, but it could help. I waited, that familiar knot of excitement building in my stomach...

I jumped out of their grasps in a flurry of punches and kicks. My foot struck Thug #2 in the jaw with a sharp *CRACK!*, while I clamped my hand onto Thug #1's arm. Their grips on me released, and I fell to the ground, dragging Thug #1 with me. Thug #2 was already falling to the ground and nursing his jaw, which was broken judging by the crack I heard.

I quickly released my hold on #1 and got up, kicking him in the groin. His face went red from mingled pain and anger, and I quickly took advantage of his state to deliver a quick kick to his head. Lights out for him.

Thug #3 was watching in terror, quickly reverting to his earlier state of backing away from me in terror. #2 was too busy rolling around on the ground to be a threat. I slowly approached #3 as he backed away, quickening my pace all the while, until I sprinted towards him and delivered a few quick punches to his liver. Then, I grabbed his arm and slammed him into the wall, before letting him slip to the floor.

I walked past #2 on the way to the exit door, kicking him in the face along the way to knock him out. Time to get out of this shithole.

To Be Continued...
Mayhaps I may do a thing.


Level 2 - (18/20) + 2 = (20/20) LEVEL UP
Difficulty Level 1
Location: Dead Zone (Redgraccoon City)
Word Count: 752


In the time after the fight, Gene quickly hopped into the shower of the van, not bothering to take his clothes off as they needed to be cleaned the most. Unfortunately for him, he didn't take into account the fact that wet clothes were uncomfortable as hell to move around in. Stepping out of the shower with nothing but a pair of tighty-whities on and wet clothes in hand, Gene reached into his pants pocket. He had a bunch of different outfits he'd bought, and they all could fit nice and neat into his pocket! ... Somehow.

As he rummaged around in there, his hand came across a pair of clothes. From the feel of it, they were still dry, too! Grinning, he pulled them out, only to find...

Oh God.

That freaky, awful, weird fishnet thing! It had feathers on the collar too! He didn't even know how he got it, one day he just... Had it! Suddenly, the van came to a stop. Oh no. He heard gunfire, and Nero's voice yelling at something. Then, there were the distinct sounds of combat, likely the others joining in on fighting whatever was outside. Crap, crap, it was too late to get anything else! Quickly, Gene began to put on the clothes, regretting his choice all the while. The others were gonna think he was some sort of sicko after this.

With a dramatic flair, Gene kicked the door of the van wide open, revealing him in all his glory.


With a yell of excitement, Gene ran out, fist raised... Only to stop dead in his tracks as he saw the big zombie the others were fighting. This thing was built like a tank! Oh, that's a good name, a Tank! He should pitch it to the others... Wait, now wasn't the time for coming up with names, now was the time for kicking ass! "Hey, freak! Over here!" he called out, before charging at the monster.

It was already weakened by the combined efforts of his allies and the boy band looking dudes. By the looks of it, the quartet were already here fighting it before the rest of them arrived; they had just finished up their little team combo. Having felt that the God Hand hadn't yet recharged in the time between the end of the earlier fight and now, Gene instead decided to go in for a few normal punches and kicks. This thing couldn't be much tougher than any of the Four Devas.

He continued his charge, delivering a leaping kick to the Tank! ... Which was very easily shrugged off. So, Gene began to let out his basic combo, finishing it off with a high kick! The Tank still didn't budge. Instead, it raised its beefy fists up high to bring them down onto Gene. Adrenaline pumping through his veins, Gene felt his honed reflexes saving his ass, and he found himself back flipping just out of the way of the attack.

Well, normal attacks didn't seem to do very well. He'd have to try a different tactic. With it decided, Gene whipped out the Roulette Wheel, and prayed for a Ball Buster... And the words "Ball Buster" appeared before him! Guess he still had some luck after all!

He turned around and, with practiced precision, delivered a backwards kick right into the zombie's big, ugly cajones. He must have still had feeling in his body after all, as his gross pale face turned a shade of blue, and twisted into a comically pained expression. As the Tank stood there stunned, Gene saw something in his mind's eye...



He grinned, and before he knew it, he was delivering a flurry of rapid punches into the beast's belly, as it began to twitch involuntarily at the beatdown it was receiving. Slowly, Gene began to yell, starting as a low growl but soon turning into a full on scream, as though he was voicing his fighting spirit. Faintly, he heard beeping, which slowly began to increase in speed and volume until...

An explosion!

Gene and the Tank were sent flying in opposite directions, Gene banging against the side of Nero and Nico's van and landing on his face. That... Hurt. A lot. Why didn't anyone tell him the Tank was rigged to blow? Well, hopefully it was finished off... Gene pushed himself up, groaning in pain, before rolling his left shoulder. He was probably lucky if it wasn't shattered. "Jeez, why didn't anyone tell me he was gonna blow up? I could've died!"
I had some ideas to bring other former Charlton characters into the game as supporting NPCs, but Captain Atom wouldn't mesh well with the Question so I was planning on leaving him out.
Hat Roy is best Roy don't @ me

Location: Hub City, Illinois - United States
Issue #1: Who Are You?

Interaction(s): None
Previously: N/A


I woke up unable to recall my own name.

The room was cold and damp, with no decorations to speak of. A small window behind me, a ray of pale moonlight seeping through the glass and onto the brick walls. The only exit was a door dead ahead. I tried to push myself up but found my hands tied behind my back with rope, my legs also tied up, and I was unable to move too much without chafing my wrists and ankles. How long had I been here, passed out and tied up?

I needed to think... What can I remember?

-----


It was raining, the sky above me the color of a television tuned to a dead channel. An informant of mine, an old drunkard named Roscoe, had provided me with a tip. He said that there were shady things going on at this address, something a man of my talents would be able to bust no problem. The address led to an old shack, tucked cozily into a back alley in The Wedge. I waited outside, pressed up against the wall of the shack and peeking in through the window at a group of men playing poker.

"Yo Johnny, you got any sixes?" one man asked, looking intently at another man, Johnny.

"Go fish," Johnny replied, and the other man grumbled and pulled another card from the deck.

Well never mind, then. They were playing Go Fish. I suppose poker would have been too stereotypical.

I watched on as they played, getting bored and cold and wet. The seconds ticked by into minutes, then an hour. Part of me thought that Roscoe was pulling my leg sending me here. So far it seemed I was just spying on a group of thugs having game night. Hell, maybe the old wineo was going senile, misheard something. I wouldn't put it beneath him.

It was two hours into my stakeout that it finally started to show promise. The men started making small talk while playing, having stayed silent most of the time, and one of them asked the question I was waiting to hear.

"Ain't boss gonna be coming tonight?"

"Yeah, he's on his way. Got in a bit of a jam, had to clean up a mess. Should be here soon."

Interesting... Maybe this is what Roscoe was talking about.


-----


A stakeout. One that somehow ended with me bound up in some empty room. But who would want to keep me alive? If they had such a problem with me, it would have been much easier to shoot me in the head when they had me beat. There had to be something I was missing... What was I missing?

... Try as I might, no sudden spark of memory ran through my mind. Shit. Must've gotten a pretty sharp crack on the head for my mind to be so scattered like this. It felt like my brain was a hamster on a running wheel, constantly working but ultimately ending up nowhere at all. This was pointless. I'd have time enough for piecing my circumstances together once I got out of here. Needed to be able to at least stand up.

My hands were tied behind my back. Grunting, I used my hands to lift myself up a bit, enough to get them under my thighs. After a moment, I managed it, and from there it was as easy as... Pulling my legs through my bound up hands... Damn, too tired to even come up with a witty metaphor. Need to keep going.

With my hands now in front of me, I flopped over onto my front and pushed myself up. I stood for a moment, struggling to keep my balance with my feet bound so closely together, but after laying my hands against the wall I was steady again. The window I had noticed earlier was just within reach; I couldn't slip through it, it was too small and cold steel bars prevented anyone from slipping in, but I could use it to my advantage in another way.

Clasping my hands together, I raised them up high and slammed them across the window pane. There was a small crack, and a smear of blood from a cut I had just gotten. Another smack, more cracks, bigger smear. Third smack, the window shattered, and my hands were freely bleeding. Slowly, I retrieved a sizeable shard, and slipped it between my hands to saw at the ropes. I pondered on just how stupid this was, sticking a jagged and sharp piece of glass in between my wrists, but my desire to get my Goddamn hands free overpowered any fear I had...

Bingo. I let the ropes fall from my wrists, then flopped onto my behind to undo the ropes on my feet. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth... I sawed through the rope without much of a problem. I stood up and dropped the shard onto the ground, the blood stained glass shattering upon impact with the cold concrete floor. I rubbed at my wrists a bit to relieve the chafing, then reached up to rub the exhaustion out of my eyes...

My hands met flesh where my eyes should be. I glided my hands down to my mouth. Nothing there either. Did they... Take my face? No no, that was too crazy. That sort of stuff couldn't happen. I had to have been wearing a mask of some sort. Something to hide my identity. But from who? That, I suppose, was the question I should be asking.

I walked over to the door leading out of the room, finding it locked. Of course, it couldn't be simple. I placed a finger against the door itself; wooden, rotting from years of water damage, nearly caving to the pressure if you pushed hard enough. I backed up a few paces, then slammed my shoulder into the door and heard a loud crack. I backed up and did it again once, twice, three times, and knocked the door clean off the hinges.

I landed on the cold hard ground with a grunt of pain, rolling off the door and looking up. I was in a long hallway, barely lit by a dim yellow, almost green lightbulb above me. The walls looked like they would have been white once upon a time, but were now yellow and marred with water stains, a sign of how decrepit this place was. I needed to get out of here...

... And I couldn't have thought that at a worse time, as I heard shouting from behind another doorway not far from me. I looked around the hall, trying to find an exit; there were three other doors aside from the one I heard the shouting from and the one I had come out of. One of the doors, probably leading out of here, was at the very end of the hallway past the room full of thugs. If I was in better condition, I might've been able to make it, but no. Right now I needed to hide. Acting quickly, I pushed myself off the ground and scrambled into one of the other rooms, closing the door behind me.

As I caught my breath, I looked around the room, half expecting it to be full of other criminals. But as luck would have it, it seemed to be devoid of other people; from the looks of it I had wound up in a bathroom, stalls and urinals lining the walls. After making sure I was alone, checking all the stalls, I rushed back to the door and pressed an ear against it, listening for any sign that they were approaching.

A door opening...

Footsteps, from the sounds of it about seven men...

Then, shouting.

"Shit, Question got out! Look around, he can't have gone far!"

Question, huh? Must have been an alias of mine. Wonder how I got it? Wait, no. I shook my head, now wasn't the time for this. It didn't matter. All that mattered right now was figuring a way out of here...

To Be Continued...
<Snipped quote by Simple Unicycle>

Me waiting for Uni's two weeks to be up like:




So I took a night to think about this entire issue and I can't fathom how you could have posted that message in the first place. You knew it was offensive, and yes I'm at fault for not responding earlier but there's no way that post should ever have made it into the OOC thread. So I'm sorry to say, but I'm officially removing you from the game. Thank you for your contributions but, I just can't have a repeat of this incident and I've received several concerns about the content of your posts.

Apologies and best of luck moving forward. If you have any questions, please direct them to me in a PM.
Oh God oh fuck it's Season Two, now I actually have to post in the game I signed up for.


Level 2 - (16/20) + 2 = (18/20)
Difficulty Level 1
Location: Dead Zone (Redgraccoon City)
Word Count: 923


Gene stayed silent in the back of the van on the trip through the Dead Zone, munching quietly on an orange. He gave a few small chuckles at Daxter's antics, but for the most part he just didn't feel in a talking mood. Too busy getting psyched up for all the demons and zombies they were about to beat down in the city... And boy howdy, were there demons and zombies to beat down.

Dead ahead were dozens, if not hundreds of zombies flooding the streets of Redgraccoon City. Some were weird... Bug demons, others were just standard undead. A sizeable chunk looked like the other generic zombies, but with different deformities. A few were big and fat, some had strange boils around their face and neck with long, slimy tongues. Gene decided that he did not want to deal with either of those two types of zombies.

Soon enough, the van came to a stop, Nero stepping out to personally deal with the bug demons. Not long after, the three duos went to work, Ratchet & Clank, Jak & Daxter, and Banjo & Kazooie, alongside the monk Donnie, going to town on zombies. There were a few rough patches and close calls, but mostly, everyone was doing okay. The robot, Blazermate if Gene recalled, was staying back to heal anyone while her sentry took down any monsters that got too close.

With a grin, Gene cracked his knuckles and stepped out of the van. "Haha! This is what I'm talking about! Time to go to town on these freaks!" Without another word, he sprinted right into the fray, throwing himself forward a roll and ramming through a group of zombies in the process. Two went down without much else, while the others went flying. Gene whipped out his Roulette Wheel, praying for a Shockwave...

The words "Divine Smash" greeted his eyes, and he charged forward, plowing through a zombie on the way to the others. Eh, close enough. Gene ran right at one of the zombies that was on the ground, and began to stomp on it repeatedly until, eventually, it died. In the meantime, however, the rest of the zombies had recovered and began to shamble towards him. So, Gene did what he always did...

He ran in and threw a right hook. He began to unleash a flurry of blows on the zombies, who were too mindless to think about blocking or dodging, making this a piece of cake. Every once in a while a zombie would lunge for him; the first time, his instincts saved him from getting pounced on, but eventually he got the hang of occasionally dodging in between combos. This was starting to seem too easy...

As if on cue, Gene heard what sounded like someone vomiting, and turned his head in the direction of the sound... Only to meet a spew of bile to the face. The smell was rancid, and the fat bastard that vomited on him looked almost pleased with his undead self. "You... YOU! THIS COAT WASN'T CHEAP, YOU JERKOFF!" He rushed towards the Boomer, delivering a flying kick to its belly...

Which promptly exploded, showering him with even more bile. On the bright side, he gained its Spirit, which looked vastly different from the other zombie spirits he'd been picking up. But that was about where the bright side ended, as now the rest of the zombies turned their attention from approaching the others... To focusing on him. Slowly, but surely, they began to shamble towards him, while a few sprinters came right at him. He defended himself rather easily against them, defeating them quickly, but considering he was stuck in the middle of a sea of undead who, mostly, were all focused dead on him, he wasn't too confident in his chances.

He only had one option... Well, two, but one would look way cooler so he decided to go with that one first.

He whipped out the Roulette again, praying for La Bomba...

The word "Grovel" appeared before him.

'No... No. No! Oh I'm so screwed...'

Against his will, Gene felt himself falling to his knees and bowing down before the undead approaching him. Needless to say, they didn't exactly give a crap about it in their mindless state. As Gene pulled himself back up, he knew there was just one thing he could do to escape...

So, he clamped a hand onto the Deistic Brace, and ripped it off, feeling the power of God flow through him. Arm glowing, Gene let loose, flying into the swarm of undead in a blur of punches and kicks. There were a few swipes and bites that got through to his body, but his skin was unbreakable; nothing could stop him when he unleashed the God Hand... Well, except another God Hand user that is. But Azel didn't seem to be around, so it was all cool!

Gene powered through the sea of zombies, eventually breaking through and winding up back in front of the van again. And just in time too! He could feel the God Hand's power draining, and he forced the Brace back onto his arm despite wanting to just cut loose and whoop ass. Luckily, Blazermate's sentry was doing a fine job on the zombies. "Jeez! Almost got my ass kicked there! Lucky I had this bad boy or I would've been done for!" He patted his bicep, staring out at the dwindling array of zombies. "God I need a shower... That fat boy vomited all over me!"

I need to get a post up with my second character considering she's been accepted for about a month and I still have yet to post with her. Gonna try and get a post up in the coming days.
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