Fourth Most Wanted Monday

Here's a little info on the man who killed The Victor, Gunner. He's now serving a lifetime sentence in Cheant (The Can) Prison for said murder and the known deaths of at least 132 other contract kills.

Real name: Will Tell
Age: 50
Ethnic group: Caucasian
Marital status: Widower
Height: 6'3"
Weight: 225 lbs
Known accomplices: Emerald Elf (chief employer)
Occupation: Hitman
Abilities: Master Marksman
Group affiliations: The Emerald Empire and the Spoiled Warriors(both formally)

Golden Age Sunday: Riding Sidecar Part 3

Riding Sidecar
Part III

After ten minutes without a trace of the Wild Pack, The Victor parked the bike onto the top of a hill, leaned back, and just listened to the park sounds. His grin seemed unaffected from the lack of progress. It’s almost like he was enjoying the chase.

After a minute of listening to the park animals, I decided to speak up, “How can three animal people just disappear?”

The Victor glanced over at me with a toothy grin, “You really can’t stop asking questions can you?”

Before I could say anything, he continued with a laugh, “I don’t mind, the reason we can’t find them is that they know the land. This is their home. We could be here of weeks and never find them. So we had to let them find us. Isn’t that right, Dyer?”

Dyer? Turning to look in the tree that The Victor had addressed that last line to, I saw a four-foot birdlike woman covered in brown feathers and wearing a backpack. She had been standing on a branch listening to us, until The Victor pointed her out. Jumping out of the tree, she screeched a reply, “Nice trick, scaring away my birds to bring me out. But you wouldn’t bag this bird.”

Kicking starting the bike, we sped after her. After a second, I realized what she was talking about. The bike sounded a lot quieter than it had ten minutes ago. It must have a stealth mode. And The Victor hadn’t been looking for the Wild Pack, he had been making has much noise as he could.

Turning to ask why he couldn’t tell me his plan, he beat me to it; “I needed you to act natural so they won’t catch on.”

After pushing a couple of buttons on the dashboard, he jumped onto the seat and said, “Take the wheel, I’ll get Dyer.”

“Take the what??!” Trembling I reach for the handles only to notice that a set had appeared from the inside of the sidecar. Grabbing them I start to wonder what other tricks the motorcycle had. I would love to see them, if I live that long.

Trying to steer, I was barely about to stop us from slamming into a tree. From beside me, “Keep her steady. It’s just like riding a bike.”

Missing another tree, I shouted back, “Easy for you to say, why can’t you steer?”

“I needed to get the rope from my saddle. Surf’s up.”

“What?!!” Glancing over to see what he was doing, I was surprised to see that he was standing on the seat like a surfboard with a coil of rope across his chest. His grin had grown even bigger. That showed me to laugh at The Co-Champion. I just wished I know how to drive.

Almost getting the motorcycle under control and missing another tree, I hear The Victor shouting “Gotcha!!!”

Looking up I saw that he had lassoed Dyer and was trying to reel her in when he shouted, “Tree!!!”

Turning back to the front, I saw a massive tree in front of us. I couldn’t steer around it and was getting ready for the crash when I heard The Victor say, “Guess its time to test the ejector.”

“The what?” Just when I was getting used to one special feature I was going to learn of another. Something sounding like a high pressed hose kicked on and shot the sidecar and me deeper into the woods.

From inside my helmet I heard The Victor say, “Keep your eyes open for the monkey.”

“What”

“Dorkin, he’s a monkey.”

Now I wished he was giving me more information. How can I find a monkey in the middle of Central Park?

First Titan Thursday

Professor Nice: A student of the occult, he was a member of The New York Patrol.

Real name: Conan Smith
Age: 25
Ethnic group: Caucasian
Height: 6'2"
Weight: 197 lbs
Eyes: Blue
Hair: Blond
Occupation: College Student
Abilities: Skilled in the occult. Able to project lighting from his hands. Emits a feeling of well being in those around him.
Group affiliations: The New York Patrol (formally)

Third Wordy Wednesday

Absorber: A superhuman that has the power to soak up one or multiple types of substances.

Third Temporal Tuesday

Okay for this Temporal Tuesday I wanted to do something different. Instead of giving you a random glimpse into the future, today's will focus on PC's past.

The Patrimony Universe was a lot like ours but split during World War Two. There was a soldier from the UK that almost every tactical win could be traced back to. He was able to plan for anything and anyone down to the second and would never let an enemy survive to learn from their mistakes. But after the war, because of his viciousness and his ego, his superiors give the credit to others and destroyed any prove of his time in service.

Bitter, he turned to crime. Because of his precision and the large pocket watch he carried, the press dubbed him Father Crime. Flattered, he took the name and started to wear a custom tux covered with clocks. He went on to terrorize London for three decades uncaught before disappearing without a trace. But during those decades any criminal worth their salt either worked for or died trying to replace him. Historians would later look back and mark Father Crime as the first supervillain and the first costumed person. The world was never the same.

Third Most Wanted Monday

You met his brothers, Bear and Davy-san, now its time to meet Sydney.

Sydney: The thinker and heart of the Hired Guns, he works with his brothers for reasons known only to himself.

Real name: Sydney Tones
Age: 25
Ethnic group: Caucasian
Martial status: Widower
Height: 5'10"
Weight: 180 lbs
Known accomplices: His brothers Bartholomew(Bear) and David(Davy-san)
Occupation: Muscle-for-hire/former history teacher
Abilities: Whip mastery and master planner/tactician
Group affiliations: Hired Guns, Sons of Crime(formally)

Golden Age Sunday: Riding Sidecar Part 2

Riding Sidecar
Part II

On Saturday I was so excited that I showed up an hour early. I hid on top of a tiny garage and waited. I do admit that I was also hoping to catch The Victor off guard and learn his identity. After all, fair is fair. It might have worked if the guy working in the garage I was on was making too much noise. I ended up the hour waving to passing pedestrians and missed The Victor showing up or so I thought.

At 10 am, the garage opened up and The Victor wheeled out his motorcycle. I noticed that he had added a yellow sidecar to it. Without even looking up at me, he said, “Okay let’s try her out.” I guess I really do need to work on my stealth.

I tried to hide my surprise, “Wait, you were the guy making all the racket?”

Gesturing at the sidecar like he was showing off a new car, “Just putting the finishing touches on The Crimson Sentinel’s new feature, The Co-Champion.”

Flipping off the garage, I landed just in front of the motorcycle. I gave The Co-Champion a quick unimpressed glance, and turned to The Victor, “A sidecar? Is that my big surprise?”

Getting on his bike, The Victor again gestured at the sidecar, “It’s more than just a sidecar. Hop in and I’ll show you. Your helmet is in the seat.”

Climbing in, I looked at my helmet. It was golden with a face of a squirrel on the visor. The helmet was polished and the paint had just dried. The detail was amazing, if I didn’t know better I would say The Victor had spend as much time on this that he had on The Co-Champion.

I put the helmet on and I looked up at The Victor; he had just put his helmet, it was crimson with a clear capital V on the visor. He was also wearing his trademark grin. Why did he do this? Not just the teamup, but also the whole hero thing.

Before I could continue with my thoughts, they were shattered by a booming voice in my helmet. “Attention all units, the Wild Pack are robbing the Tenth Ave Pantry.”

The Victor kick started the bike and pulled out onto the street. Trying to find something to hold onto as The Victor made a hard right, I asked, “Okay, what was that? And who are the Wild Pack?”

Giving a slight giggle The Victor answered, “More questions, I see. Well the first one is simple, just the police band, the helmets are designed to pickup any call for backup in a twenty block radius. As for the second, it’s kind of complicated. It’s less of who and more of what. The Wild Pack is a group of animal enthusiasts that have spliced their DNA with that a various animals. They are distrustful of anyone that isn’t part of their group, but they normally don’t venture out of their hideout unless they’re short on supplies. Stay out of their way and they usually stay out of yours.”

After that The Victor went quiet and focused on ducking in and out of traffic. I didn’t mind because I wanted to think over what he said. He seemed big on the exposition giving. Not that I minded, my dad once spent an hour explaining the history of New York Library. I remember Blue Be Dad talking about the Wild Pack before, but only to say that he didn’t want to face them alone.

About two minutes later, we pulled in front of Tenth Street Pantry and parked. The entrance was caved in, like someone had driven a car through it. Police were trying to keep away the crowd of onlookers, but turned to look at us. I suddenly felt exposed. I looked at The Victor to see what to do. He just waved at the crowd then folded his arms and lazily leaned back on his seat. I quickly tried to do the same, but the crowd just ignored me and just stared at The Cheerful Champion.

After a minute, a young officer in his early twenties walked over to us. The Victor sat up, looked straight at him, and said, “Rogers, right? Mind giving me the rundown on what happened?”

The officer to a formal stance and rattled off an answer, “Yes, Sir! Three members of the Wild Pack smashed though the front and took off with over $5,000 in food!”

The Victor laughingly said, “At ease, soldier. Did the Mr. Felder see which members it was? Or the direction they went?”

Rogers relaxed, a little, and said, “He said it was Dyer, Dorkin, and Geda. They went east towards Central Park.”

Kick starting the bike, The Victor said, “Very good. Thanks for the assist Rogers; I’ll make sure Officer Huntre hears about it. Let the officers in pursuit know to back off, don’t try to follow them into the park.”

As The Victor pull The Crimson Sentinel out of the parking lot, my mind went over the crowd and what the officer said. They had acted better in front of The Victor than I did. The crowd had been in awe and the officer had acted like The Victor was a superior officer. I know that the Hero Law gave us some freedom, but that was different. The Victor acted like it wasn’t a big deal, but knowing the names of both the owner and a random officer just show that to him it is. I don’t know who Officer Huntre was, but if The Victor wanted me to he would tell me, in great detail.

Turning my thoughts to the Wild Pack, I realized that they must rob this place a lot if the owner knows them by sight. What could they have used on the door? Rogers said the front door was smashed but there wasn’t any tire tracks on the ground. The Victor said they spliced their DNA with animals, but what animal could smash a steel door?

The Victor broke into my thoughts with a shout, “Why couldn’t they have listened?”

Looking up ahead us, I saw two demolished cop cars torn across the entrance of Central Park. A couple of officers were hanging from a few trees, battered but alive. Feeling like I might regret it, I asked, “Whoa, what happened.”

The Victor hopped off the bike and walked over to check on the cops, “Geda. Or as he likes to call himself, Lox.” After getting the cops onto the ground and giving them an all clear, he got back onto The Crimson Sentinel, and headed into the park. I didn’t know that The Victor had medical training. Maybe a hint to his secret identity.

As we rode into the park, I got a sudden chill. I hadn’t thought that that the Wild Pack would be easy to take down, but now I wasn’t sure if they could be.