C-Listers Issue 1: "Rise of the mediocre"

Not open for further replies.


Original poster
The Helena Ward; State prison for the extremely talented and Misguided.

Dr Bright stared a long while on his papers. Only a day ago, the Helena Ward was hit by a jailbreak. He was looking at a list of fifty different escaped inmates. Some of them were hard hitters like Mobster Malone and Bazooka Betty. Dr Bright had a terrible headache that threatened to become a full fledged migraine any second now. There was no pattern to the people prioritized during the escape. Most of the escaped were low level threats. He stared at the picture of Mad Dog. A IRA extremist, a petty bank robber at best. What could he ever achieve? And the woman with the goblet, she had never even registered on the radar. He had put a APB out on them, but these types tended to lay low and the police were more then enough for someone of their caliber. Sitting down with a glass of scotch he glanced at the papers.

”Bunch of C-listers...” He sipped his scotch and shook his head. Four seconds later, he was dead on the floor, face purple and tongue swollen. A man stood over his corpse, having appeared out of thin air the second the good doctor drew his last breath. He was dressed impeccably. The bright, green skull lapel on his chest indicated he was ”The Broker”. The Super villain equivalent of a talent agent and coach. He looked down at the now dead genius of Dr Bright as he picked up the papers he had dropped. He flipped trough the papers and tilted his head as he registered the names.

”C-Listers huh.?” He smiled. ”Excellent...” There was a sound of fiddles and screaming, and then he was gone.


Dr Bright left two daughters behind, his death would be mourned by scientists and heroes across the world. His Funeral was interupted by his old nemesis ”Proffesor Gloom” his twin brother. All files on the afformentioned C-Listers seemed to have vanished from the records along with many other low level villains.


Edgars Apartment; Mercury City suburbs, 44th Brilliant Street, Slums. 4 days later.

Being a poor villain was not easy. Being a poor villain indebted to the Broker was none the easier. Here sit you, the fatefull escapes from the Helena Ward. You are a bunch of nobodies, some of you know this to be true. Others have fallen from grace before reaching this place, unknown to this world and reality. And this is why the Broker is smiling at you. Becouse his not a nobody, he is someone. Someone scary.

”Call me... An investor” He spreads his arms, palms up. ”You are right now a risky, lowyield stock.” Upon seeing the way he grin, and how his row of teeth is creepily perfect, you are pretty sure he brushes them with a brush made out of the bones from unborn children. He notices all of you staring and smiles even wider. And then he proceeds to lay down the law.

”I won't say I own you. I believe in freedom. Like the freedom to give me a cut of some choice jobs I set you up with down the line. The freedom to not... die” He claps his hands together and then looks directly at Edgar.

”I do apologize for using your apartment as the hideout. But you know. From one...” He pauses, as if the words are hard to form for a second. ”Traveller.. Yes, From one Traveller to another, you need a team. All of you do in fact!” He twirled on his heel to overlook each and everyone of you. ”Frankly you are terrible on your own. But together, you might be half past competent.”He noted with some satisfaction.

”Now. As my first act of charity!” He formed a map out of thin air of the city out of thin air. ”I will only take 20 percent of the little robbery you are going to pull off. Nothing big mind you. A small bank office in downtown Mercury City, the Lous International, have secretely recieved a very nasty virus in it's mainframe. I need someone to slip past the guards, into the back and activate the program. It should be masked as a new calculus program.” He rattled of the details in rapid succession, while always making sure he pointed to the relevant parts of the map. He was no beginner at this.

”The rest of you will wait for it to take down digitized alarm system. When it is down, you have 20 minutes to go, in take as much as you can and leave. I Suggest having one of your more clever people on distraction duty, and some heavy hitter for eventual muscle. And someone has to deal with the vault. Another need to keep the hostages pacified” He paused and took out a cigarette from the breast pocket on his ten grands suit. He lit it with a lighter that seemed made out of gold and some meterial not of this world. ”Questions? No? Good, time to work!”

Inside; Lous International Bank. 4 AM.

The Office of Louis International is small compared to some of the major banks. Several cameras are set up, aimed at the Entrence, the entrance to behind the counters, the counters themselves and the door to the back where the vault is. Currently there isn't anyone there but the personnel. A sleepy middle aged clerk, a couple bored looking guards and a janitor.

Outside; The Street is desolate, the morning bustle won't start for another few. The lot of you are out in alley opposite of the bank. At least one of you will have to distract the police when they arrive. Who and how you do that is up to you. The digital alarm will be on a 20 minute loop if you are lucky.
Last edited by a moderator:
Edgar and Sabrina Mini-Issue #1: Dead Like Me and Kanye E.

Upon hearing the conditions of her "arrangement" with the Broker, Sabrina couldn't help but feel like it was a no-win situation. If she went along with the notion that she and the other fugitives that were all thrown together in the oddly young boy's apartment (no, seriously, he must be a gradeschooler, how was his apartment nicer than her own... and what was the twerp doing to afford it?) were no better than c-listers, then that'd be as big a slap in the face as serving out the rest of her sentence in Helena Ward. It was a short one. She'd been arrested for attempted B&E, after all. It was all part of her brilliant idea to craft an illusion with the goblet of a busty woman to distract the slack-jawed guard who was stationed in front of a shipment of expensive, but otherwise undesirable, office technology. She was going to lift a few small items for a pleasant amount of catch. However, the guard started waving his hands over the conjured woman's chest and one of his hands accidentally passed right through her. From the shocked look on his face, he clearly hadn't expected that, which raised the question of why the guy was fondling the air around her breasts, but Sabrina generously chalked it up to some weird magician fetish. Maybe he thought he was courting her. Either way, she ended up courted... and the lucky man was the judicial system. It was a quick sentencing and Sabrina sat in her jail cell, bitter about the man who couldn't leave well enough alone and just salivate like any other working class bozo would've. She tried hard not to judge, she really did, but she was honestly still puzzling what sort of seducing that guy thought he was up to. It may or may not have been on her mind the moment her cell door was flung open and she was offered an escape. And now she was here... in the home of a sulky looking ten year old and at the mercy of a creepy loan shark, who apparently thought it was a good idea to round up some of the pettiest, most anal criminals on the block for a heist. Sabrina's mind suddenly flashed back to an unappealing image of the donut-chugger in bed with a blow up doll, but the illusion was blissfully shattered by a nudge and the high-pitched voice of the most girliest of girls.

"Hi, hi, howdy, hi, hi!" The little boy said, raising out a hand for her to shake. He did not make eye contact with her, instead focusing intensely on her her crotch hoop. "When everyone is minus, you can call me Mutipl-EDGAR." The last word came out as some cross between a hiccup and a blurp, almost as if he had glitched, but the boy recovered quickly. "Just so you know, yes, yes, I'm the guy. You could get five fingers and I'm not waving Hi!" It was hard to see because he was bent so low, but the boy gave a small -or just really, really reluctant- smile.

Taken aback, in equal parts because of the sheer, shrill highness escaping from the boy's throat, and by the fact that he seemed to be quoting a song by a very tacky gay boy from Nevada, Sabrina took a moment to compose herself before taking Edgar's hand to shake, "And I'm Sabrina. Call me Sabs, it cuts down on the teenaged witch bullshit." She noticed that he was transfixed by the really unfortunate circle she'd manage to draw around her crotch when fabricating the outfit. She finally pulled her hand away to try to listen in on what the Broker was saying, but all she really heard was that they all sucked, they had to steal some money, and a whopping 20% was going to end up in that strange man's hands. She turned to Edgar again and asked, "Wait, so does he really expect us to do his dirty work and pay him for it? And why're we all in your apartment, kid?"

The little boy, henceforth to be known as Kanye, shrugged and said, "She take my money when I'm in need. Yeah, she's a gold-digging friend indeed. Oh, she's a gold-digging friend way over town, that digs on me." He coughed, and with some effort, corrected himself. "Us." he said. "Us." He tore himself away from the transfixing visage of the crotch hoop, his brow furrowed, as if he was trying so very, very hard to answer the second question. A few seconds passed, and he shrugged. "Welcome to the blue house." He unenthusiastily brought his arm up in the manner of a sock puppet. "Hello from the small mouse. Things to do, fun for you. In the house of blue!" He rolled his eyes. It was clear finishing the verse was obligation.

She blinked. He'd managed to make, uh, a bit of sense, but it was clear that whatever the kid's story was, it probably had something to do with music. Sabrina momentarily considered that he was a mutant with the "power" of knowing every single song known to man and the curse of not being able to speak anything else, but she figured that was too stupid for even someone's fucked up genetics to do, so she quickly dismissed it. In fact, looking around the room, she figured she wouldn't have too much luck with anyone else who had assembled here. Some of them looked downright dangerously deranged, and others seemed desperately demure, dopey even. She'd stick with Edgar for now. As some of the other hopeful villains took their leave of the room to reconvene in a few hours, the black-haired girl sheepishly looked towards the wall and then cleared her throat, "While I was in jail, I managed to miss rent... again so do you mind if I crash here until we get to the bank?"

Kanye thought about it for a moment, before his eyes widened in horror. "Guess it's true," He covered a hand over his mouth, but it was too late - the words came unbidden from his little boy lips. "I'm not good at a one-night stand." He regreted it, but when he seized onto a verse, he could not stop. "But I still need love cause I'm just a man.These nights never seem to go to plan. I don't want you to leave, will you hold my hand?" He did not offer either. "Oh, won't you stay with me?"

Taking a cautious step back, she realized it was either stay the night with the demonically possessed Addams family brat or sleep on a park bench, and really, there was no way she was going to do the latter. Not in this outfit. So, she firmly placed herself on the couch and turned her back on Edgar, hoping he'd sulk off somewhere to live down his shame. Oh, and she certainly hoped he'd wake her. If she was left behind during this escapade and managed to miss out on the quick payday, she'd be royally screwed.

Kanye stared at her slumbering form, unblinking. He stayed in that position for the next 4 hours.

Sabrina's earsplitting shriek woke everyone else in the apartment complex up at 3:30 AM promptly. It drowned out whatever creepy song Edgar might have used to wake her up. She finally stopped hyperventilating once they got to the Louis National. Kanye followed at a safe, safe distance behind her, clearly confused by the homeless lady's antics. What was her malfunction?

The entire ragtag group was once again reunited, though most of them with less mental trauma than the odd pair had experienced over their brief night together. Sabrina remembered back to what the Broker had been saying about their strategy for this robbery. Something about an alarm... a virus... and money, of course. They'd need a distraction. Vomit crept to the recesses of her mouth as she once again thought of that sexually dysfunctional guard and his weirdo acts in bed, and she felt absolutely certain that she'd be the one to take attention away from the group. It was something of a matter of pride at this point. She looked to the group and started off, "I think Edgar here would be pretty good at sneaking, in terms of getting to the computer to set off the program. And..." she squinted for a moment, "Pitbull here could be good backup in case my distraction misfires." She was gesturing to the tall, gruff gentleman of their arrangement. "I can distract one and take him out of the picture, and I could send another one towards you so you could knock him out." She gestured in an awkward attempt to mimic clubbing someone, over the head, hoping for some other advice or suggestions from the group.[/fieldbox]
Last edited:
Being out of prison felt great. JJ had spent the majority of the past three months in a small prison cell with only crappy food to eat, no privacy and no social contact other than the brief exchanges she had with the guards and only allowed to shower once a week because of her powers. The first thing she had done after she escaped was take a long hot shower before she headed straight to the nearest bar, had some decent food, thanks to guy who's wallet she had stolen. She then spent the next few hours choosing which person to help her relieve her sexual frustration. She wound up going home with a slightly chubby guy which she didn't mind at all. They tried hard in the sack and were always grateful afterwards.

Learning that she was indebted to the Broker however, felt terrible. She had heard some stories about the guy. Her fence had dealt with him before and he was flat terrified of the guy. She knew she would have to play his game for at least a little while if she wanted to avoid is wrath and even if she had to play it for a long time it was still a lot better than prison. She listened carefully to the Broker's plan and looked around the room to size everyone up. She wasn't impressed at all but she would need to do some research before she knew anything for sure. After their meeting she left Edgar's apartment, wondering just how the hell a kid could afford one and headed to the nearest library. After an hour on a computer she determined that the Broker had been right when he said they were terrible on their own. She sighed and left the library but was determined not to spend the night with that horribly annoying singing child and headed back to the bar from the other night and picked someone else to spend the night with, a girl as it happened.

She slept only a few hours before waking up and sneaking out the door to prepare for the bank job. It was certainly the largest job she had even attempted by far and she knew she would need a lot of water if she had any hope of keeping people contained, police or civilian. She bought a case of bottled water and made her way to the alley across from the bank. She was about fifteen minutes early and spent the time opening the case and unscrewing the top off each individual bottle. When the others arrived she was sitting on dumpster with the open case of water and a duffle bag she had also grabbed beside her. Unlike several of the others she didn't have a costume, she simply wore jeans, a t-shirt with some silly remark about not being a minion of evil with two jackets worn over it. The first jacket was a soft hoodie and the other was a work jacket which she wore open over the hoodie. On her neck was a kerchief she would pull up to conceal the lower part of her face once the job started. She also had a pair of sunglasses tucked in one of her pockets in case she needed to hide her eyes but she wasn't wearing them because it was still dark out and she wasn't that particular breed of douchebag. She looked over the others as they arrived and picked up on what Sabrina was saying. "I can keep anyone from entering or leaving easily enough as well as drop any troublemakers but I would prefer not to be the only one on both of those jobs." she paused for a moment, thinking of something else. "And you'll all be calling me Ril, whenever we're on the job from now on."
Alex had been reluctant to leave prison. Her parents had taught her that she always needed to take her punishments, no matter the severity. And she had intended to. She would have gotten out in twenty or so years, and then she'd be forty and still able to head back to her old home. So how had she gotten out and into this situation of having to rob a bank? Well...in all of the confusion, she had been trying to head back to her cell, but had gotten carried away by the mob of inmates escaping. So here she was. Out of prison, and about to rob a bank. She didn't really want to. But her parents had also told her to repay those who had done her a kindness. And technically, the broker had done her a kindness. Kinda.

She'd sort of shoved herself into a corner during their 'briefing' and when it was time to go, she had just walked out. And it had only occurred to her five minutes later that she had no where to spend the night. Her old apartment wasn't nearby, and she doubted that the landlady would let her stay anyway. And she couldn't go to Mrs. Mabel, she would get turned in! So her only option was to return to her old 'home' at the park. And of course she couldn't walk around in her prison clothing, so she was forced to break into some donation bins and steal some jeans and a plain white T. She had to keep her shoes though, because she couldn't find anything in her size.

Sleeping on a park bench had left her with a sore back and a gloom attitude when she headed to the rendezvous point. She hung back for a minute or to before cautiously approaching and coming to stand by the blonde haired girl with a comical t-shirt and gave the girl a shy smile. "I'll help you, with the keeping anyone from leaving and entering--that is. That was actually why I went to jail! I held some kids hostage." She thought maybe that was a bit of over share, but she was a little nervous. She was about to rob a bank after all! "Oh! And you guys can call me Alex--I mean, Dean--Wait, wait wait-- You can call me Plaything." She thought that was a cool sounding alias. Plaything...Yeah, that was awesome.
Time was of little matter to the avatar of an entity which had cheated past the fate of a universe's mortal nature. Still, sooner was better than later, and Nora charged through the wave of escapees when the time came to break free of prison. Downtrodden by being stuck in the slammer so soon after arriving on the planet, she was relieved to learn just as quickly that jailbreaks here were seemingly commonplace and altogether easy to pull off. Judging by her cell-mates, it wasn't meant to house particularly dangerous individuals, which only stifled her pride further.

Understanding of her need to carry out acts of nefariousness she was quite receptive of forming a team, haughty as Nora remained. It was clear her "might" alone was of little significance to the world at large, and she needed time and safety within numbers to return to her formerly divine status. Whatever it took, even if it meant working alongside such pitiful beings. She refrained from vocalizing her disdain for all life on the planet, careful not to spark fears of backstabbing as soon as she had the means available. Then again, they were all villains, and she doubted all of them were dumb enough to miss such a possibility.

As the troop headed for the unlucky bank, Nora reviewed her diagnostics, reading off of the intrinsic messages relayed to her from countless cybernetics embedded within her nervous system. She was still vastly damaged as was expected, but it seemed as though still displayed a rather formidable stopping power with her body; enough force to possibly kill a man outright. With that in mind, she spoke up to the group,

"If more trouble shows up, I can take care of it," she said, cracking her knuckles ominously, "though if it comes down to it, I won't be able to handle a fleet of cops with guns. Just lettin' you guys know." That much was obvious, but it did mean she would head indoors if things got rough outside the bank.
The time in prison had been a complete and utter pain. A few had heard the rumors about how she had almost gotten jailed as a male if not for the preliminary search. The words about her lacking chest volume still burned.

When the jailbreak happened of course she split, what kind of moron would remain in prison? Apparently those who could avoid getting involved with the Broker. Of all the things that could happen, why the Broker? Even the A-listers were wary of him.

Listening to him speak Blaize was already wondering just for how long he would toy with their lives, make fun of their lack of powers and sub-par abilities.

She left shortly after the other dispersed, if they needed to trigger the virus from the inside then she needed her stash. Dropping by her parents place she greeted them with a smile and a hug before explaining enough of the situation. They were horrified, of course, but also happy that she now had a chance to further her chances as a villain instead of remaining a mook.

A quiet dinner with a little talk about the latest A-lister they worked for and the money laundering they had done to secure a pension she wished she had been as lucky and not worked for that B-lister she had worked for. At least then she wouldn't have spent time in jail.

Evening came and she crashed at Edgar's place, the worst choice yet as she was woken by the high-pierced scream of Sabine. Great.
At the bank the jobs were getting divided up and they named themselves, one of the names was... Painful. "For me Pretender will work just fine." Pulling out a shirt from the backpack she had prepared, coupled with the pants she already wore she could already pass as a techie, her clothes fitting the dress code of the computer company that the bank had business with. "Distractions and infiltrations are my forte. I can get in, and out, through my own skills." Pulling the shirt over her snug tee, messing up her hair and putting on some geeky glasses she perfectly looked the part. With a the nasal tone so easily assosiated with a nerd she added: "It's just triggering a virus."
Prison was not a place Sylar Hellman ever wanted to be in, so why had he become such a regular? It was full of people, full of undesired contact, and worst of all, full of pain so intense it was palpable. It made Sylar feel as if he was constantly at the edge of receiving it. It, of course, being pain in its abstract form and not as the consequence of some prison act… thankfully, Sylar had no need of protecting his bum. That perk came with the reputation he’d acquired the first time he’d stepped into jail. However, as it tended to be with most C-listers, perks were often times overshadowed by disservice. No aspiring villain ever wished for a jail reputation based on pity and mocking adulation mostly coming from the jailers themselves!
Oh how tired he was of hearing the authority tell him he was more a victim of his gift than an apprentice of it, of hearing the authority “encourage” him with words of potential for becoming a true demon, and lastly and most painfully, of hearing their laughter at evidence of his wasted potential as he endeavored into “silly” tasks and “petty preoccupations.”

“Chidaruma…” he mumbled, slowly coming out of his reverie and back into the reality The Broker had dragged them into. He’d stood as far away from the group as possible, an easy feat in such a subjectively lavish apartment in Sylar's eyes, and watched them all empty it before he showed himself out as he fidgeted with his prison clothes. He felt naked. It took him most of the night to get back to his cave, where he quickly ate some ramen and changed into an all-black outfit that left only his head exposed. For that, he knocked on his roommate’s door and asked to borrow his helmet. After some roommate drama Sylar took the helmet anyway and with building dread in the pit of his stomach he tackled a pizza delivery guy a couple blocks away and stole his bike.

As he approached the meeting point he began to realize what a bad idea this was. Sure, maybe they could be better villains working together but what if he wasn’t even good enough for that? He parked the bike and made his way on foot mentally encouraging himself along the way. Soon he was eager to act and determined to stop the whole loner thing he seemed to have fallen into while wearing the stupidly spacious jail uniforms.
Sylar joined the group just as people started volunteering, preparing, and cutting in to give input before he could even gasp for the breath he needed to speak. He was momentarily shocked at the… dependability the group gave off. Suddenly his little touching trick seemed useless.

“I’ll help with the hostages,” he managed to say through the helmet in fake confidence. Oh god, hopefully that task didn’t require manhandling.
Last edited:
"Over a lousy fuckin ticket..." repeated in Mad Dog's mind over and over again. He'd only been in Mercury City for a few days until he was in prison for a crime he felt was unfair. Granted, he denied a parking ticket and proceeded to brutally beat up the Police Officer who gave him said ticket until he was hospitalized. He was looking at ten years in prison for that little outburst of "irish anger" he was infamously known for back in the land of the lucky. He hated his home with a passion, and so even in this situation? he was still relieved. When it came to "Break Out" Mad Dog easily jumped at the chance to escape. He was not the best behaved person here at all, quite frankly, he knew he'd add on an extra five years for bad behaviour. He took this opportunity as a "Get out of jail free! card" so that if he returns? hopefully there's a few burnt houses and bodies under his list of offences. Before he left he gave a few of the guards a kick between the legs and a "middle finger" for luck. He was not a stabilized kind of guy at all.

Mad Dog looked over the boy's apartment, the clutter was non-existent, and was surprisingly well organised. "Nice shit hole ya got here, lad" Mad Dog replied, a grin upon his face. He looked at the group one by one, giving out a hearty laugh as he wiped a single tear from his eye. He knew of this Broker guy, but like many others with a reputation? he did not care one single bit. "Ya think these fucks can rob a bank do ye? Well if anything this oughta be a fucking gold mine of laughs" Mad Dog managed to say between wheezes and laughter. He'd been part of many ragtag groups, it was essentially how he worked in the IRA before coming to Mercury City looking for a simple "Allow me to blow things up" Job. Mad Dog was a one track mind kind of guy, and he played it to his strengths. It allowed him to get many a job involving demolitions, arson and both. This was his destiny, his greater calling; To "fuck up shit with fire and bombs whilst singing Irish drinking songs." As everyone left to get prepared for the job, Mad Dog decided to meet some of his family, He had heard from them that they managed to his equipment and luggage. He was pleased by the news. Leaving the apartment, Mad Dog got to see the night time life of this city. It was the typical night life that was ingrained in youth culture; typically drunken young adults and teenagers stumbling and staggering around the streets, only here the police seemed more active and less brawls would break out. "I guess once I'm done with this job, It would be wise of me to find a decent Irish pub" Mad Dog said aloud to no one in particular.

It didn't take him long; a taxi trip there and back was simple. His Aunt was married to chop shop owner, his "Uncle-in-Law" would've been his source for jobs. As he got out the cab, he looked at his new home until he would get his own place. "fuck...what is this place and shit holes?" was the thought that crossed his mind. Stepping in through the door he saw his stuff piled up in the entry way, his aunt standing right there, her eyes narrowing down on him. "four days, Dillan, and you fuckin get into trouble? WHATS THE MATTER WITH YA!" she shouted as loud as she could towards her nephew. Mad Dog just sighed. "Please, Aunty Sal? I gotta job and need to prepare for it, okay? So shut ya festering cunt mouth up, AND LET ME THROUGH!" Mad Dog grabbed his stuff, barging past his aunt. She was a fairly large and rotund lady, her wrinkled, round face showed an annoyed and pissed off expression. "Ya room is on the left, up the stairs! DONT BE LATE FOR BREAKFAST!" Mad Dog simply headed up the stairs with his luggage. The room was a typical, generic, non-personal bed and a desk with a shower to the side, he had expected this as much. First things first; getting out of this get up. He managed to take a shower just before getting his gear ready. Simple ragtag riot gear painted with a green and grey camo pattern. Simple army slacks with a few padded armor kneepads and shinguards. His body armor was in the typical fashion and colour scheme, only with the words "God only Forgives" spray painted on in black. His face-plate was typical grey, steel quality with a drunken four leaf clover on his left cheek.

He was booted up and ready for a "Good ole' scrapping!" in his own words. His own shotgun's ammo strapped across his chest, grenades and the like assorted around his waist. He was ready taking "Roisin" in his hands, caressing the firm, tight grip with his left hand, stroking the large barrel with his right. "Oh baby, daddy has missed you so much" he whispered to his Shotgun.

It didn't take Mad Dog long until he got the alleyway across from the Bank, their "paycheck" for this particular job. Mad Dog was well equipped for the job. He looked to one of his comrades, who called herself "Plaything" and smiled. "Well, lass, hopefully you don't get put behind bars for that nickname to be used to its fullest capacity, aye?" he remarked looking over to the rest of the group. "Well, you bunch of misfits will need me Shottie lass called Roisin for getting through that thick metal vault door." he explained, stroking the barrel in a fashion that was both loving and oddly creepy. "Roisin here is a Thermite Combat Shotgun built for burning things." he added. "So, let's get this show on road!"
  • Love
Reactions: Mundane Monster
Tim disliked where he was currently, both the situation and the location. He disliked being indebted to an infamous Villain for breaking out of jail, and he disliked of having to slum around with other ne'er do well instead of being able to stay in his own place. Unfortunately, he can't for the express reason that the SSU managed to burn it down when they were collecting his crafts. So here he was, being briefed for what to be his debut in villainy along with other bottom-feeders, the total scum of Supers. At least, he hoped that this one would end up better for him than his other one.

Remaining quiet and ignoring most of the rest, Tim planned on what to find to make some cursory items. He can't do much without tools though, but the dumpsters should yield things he could use. Once the other people started to leave, so was Tim. It took him some time as he mostly found things that he couldn't use without tools, though it does make it easier when he remembered that there was a roll of duct tapes in the apartment. In the end, he was only able to salvage enough working materials to make two objects. The first is a simple taser glove, the other however was something that he would call a laser pistol. Neither was enough to kill men, but they're both strong enough to hospitalize its victims. The only problem however, was that Tim were sure that they wouldn't hold out long.

Yawning as he walked, Tim reached the alley in front of the bank they were supposed to hit. Listening to the other villains, Tim wasn't sure where he should go. After deliberating, he made a decision, "I'll help secure the...hostages. My taser should help on that."
Blake Tellery
Prison -> Edgar's Apartment -> Abandoned house -> Alley behind Louis international
New start
Blake heard the sirens, the wailing sirens, as his cell door opened. Never before had this happened without him being sedated, so it was rather new to him. It was solid titanium, about and inch thick, with a good weight to it as it hit the wall, bouncing slightly, before he caught it.
The days here had been so, so long. Ages spent doing nothing but talking to Echa, the name he'd given to the green phantom that was his only company in this lonely place. Echa never talked back, but that didn't stop him. He had simply talked to it, a one-sided conversation about nothing at all, describing what he say, telling him about his life up until he was captured, letting him know what his stodgy, tasteless meals were like, even making up stories and sometimes using Echa to play them out.
Now, though, he was out. Freedom! He could feel the fresher air seeping in, the wail of the sirens, the shouting and screaming of the other inmates in the jail.
Echa followed him out, and ran by his side, exactly in step with him, a mirror image save for its green electric-like appearance. He ran and he ran, until they were shepherded by someone else into a pleasant apartment, Echa carrying him on his shoulders to see above the crowd.

The man who spoke... He'd heard of him alright, the broker. He'd thought of going to him, but he'd heard horror stories, too. Of those who went against him because they couldn't pay their debts. A powerful man indeed, and not a good one for him to cross. He couldn't just not agree to what he said now, he had to go along, or he'd end up dead or back in prison. He wasn't sure what was worse.
So he needed a distraction? He could do that - using Echa, to beat someone senseless and let others come to them, or to simply start trashing shit until they came to find out what the noise was, while he jumped from a hiding place with a knife, or such. Solitary confinement, and the sense of empowerment he had from Echa, they contributed to stop him considering killing as that bad. He'd not just do it without reason, and he didn't particularly enjoy it, however neither did he have anything against it, so he would do it when necessary.
Perhaps he could use a similar tactic just to take out the guards. It would work in a pretty similar way, perhaps save for the part with Blake killing as well, he would be unable to sneak up on them by running into the building. He'd need to keep himself safe to focus on Echa.

For now, though, he returned to his "home". It was the closest thing he had to one, and he thought of it as such. Once, there had been a fair few orphans like him living here, but he'd cleared them out to take it for himself. There were cobwebs, bugs, et cetera, and no gas or power, but Echa provided all the light he needed, and he could just steal any extra clothes he wanted for warmth. The house really just served as a place to sleep and to store his loot. Of which there was now a far bit.
He slept, setting his alarm clock to wake him up to go to the office later, and when he woke up, he put on his "suit". It wasn't much compared to any proper super-villains, but he was proud of what he managed. A black motorcycle helmet to hide his face, a black t-shirt, black tracksuit bottoms, and trainers. His real piece de resistance, though, the piece that made him look more unique, and somewhat fitted with his power, was his hoodie. It was black, yes, like almost everything else, but it had a neon green outline to it, running around the hood, down the zip, around the base, up the spine, and at around the cuffs. He also kept a knife with him, not quit something that Crocodile Dundee would be happy to own, but a flick knife that had a wicked edge to it, and it's be plenty enough for killing and harming, though not through body armour, so if he did have to use it on a guard, aiming at somewhere like the throat or legs would be key.

Heading off to the alley, he found several others already there, discussing what they could do. He realised quite how diverse their powers were, C-listers or not, so working together could be very beneficial to him.
"I guess you can call me phantom. I control Echa here, and he's kinda like a person in very good physical condition, essentially. Plus, I have a knife. I can sue Echa to take out the guards and maybe take one out with the knife. Or, I guess I can run distraction. Whichever needs doing most."
Map Legend:
Blue; Guards.
Black;. C-listers
Green; Hostages/civilians[/dash]

Crossing the street, Pretender would be greeted by a sleepy looking guard. "'Ello 'ere Sir." He tipped his hat at her. The man was more then a little overweight. Not the "Chubby but strongh" kind of big, but the "I should fix my sweet tooth" kind of big. He seemed to sweat in his uniform, despite the fact it was barely 15 degrees celcius in the air. "A bit earlier then usual aren't you?" He asked as he opened the door for her. The two guards on the inside looked up from their conversation and one, a woman witha very stern looking face stopped the would be bankrobber.

"You with the tech crew?"

Speaking in the nasal voice she had adopted Pretender knew that they didn't even doubt she was the technician. "Yes, I'm here to install the new calculation program that will improve the overall software performance." Adopting the expression of a bored systems admin sent to do a boring task that 'anyone' could do the act was believable enough to pass most tests.

"Calculation... program?" The two guards looked somewhat confused. "Like a calculator?" The hardass of a woman said with a eyebrow raised. Her workpartner rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Nono. I read about those, I'ts alogry- Algotryt... Calculations with code. It apperently trim unneccary processes or some shit."

"ohh" The woman nodded sagely. "Alright. Come with me kid. One of us have to be present, rules you know. Romeo, keep a eye on things while I see to this." She motioned for Pretender to follow with her. The woman walked with confidence, the gunholster on her hip seemed to have a smiley sticker on it of all things. She wasn't a very large woman, but she carried her self like she was 7 feet and 200 pounds. A total "Don't fuck with me" attitude. She led Pretender to the desires room, where the terminal was. "Aight. Do your thing. I am watching you though"

"Algorithms," interjecting with a slightly irritated tone at the misuse of technical jargon, but also with a mild approval of understanding of the concept Pretender nodded to Romeo.

Following the female security guard who clearly was not of the technically advanced type she was inwardly relieved, it made her act that more believable. It was on thing to act like a computer whiz in front of normal people, it was even more difficult passing off as something when in the same room as the actual experts. Smirking a little at the smiley sticker Blaize found something a little likable about the stern guard.

Sitting down by the computer terminal she got to work, booting up the computer she was glad she had brushed up on computer knowledge before working out her act. Finding the virus that was disguised as the program she spoke up, making sure her voice remained nasal. "We sent it ahead, you know with all those crackers around it's getting more troublesome to bring a program with you." She was speaking pure bullshit and she knew it, but it would be a believable enough lie, the media had done a great job making crackers famous for impossible things. Starting the activation process it was now a question of time and her own ability to keep up the act until they could nab the money.

As soon as the virus triggered, there was a flickering and then all the screens started pulsing with different colors as a skull appeared on the screen along a timer. 20 minutes down time. IT was go time. The cameras all died at once, and the security lock to the vault door died, and with it the magnetic field. It was just a whole of thick metal between the would be robbers and a small fortune now. The guard, flabbergasted with what was going on in front of her pulled the gun at Pretender. ”Don't move. You did this!”


The overweight guard fumbled for his gun.” W-what is going on!” He called back in to the other guard. ”All the systems are down!” The other bellowed back. His eyes grew wide in the pig like face of his as he realized the direction from which the 'Tech Expert' had been coming in from. He raised his gun with shakey hands towards the location of the villains. ”oh shit..”

-MISSION TIME. TIME LEFT ON THE TIMER 19 minutes 40 Seconds-

The Alarm is down, and the guards have been taken by suprise. Now is your chance. A few people are around, not sure of whats going. You could herd them into the bank to keep people from calling on their cellphones.
Oh shit. Cursing inwardly at how to disarm the guard without becoming a hostage herself Blaize knew she couldn't mess up her act now. "W-what?! I was sent here to install software!" Keeping the nasal voice, but lacing it with fear wasn't easy, though having a gun aimed her helped. Raising her hands like a good, frightened civilian she had to somehow deceive and disarm the guard, and that soon. Now she wished she had worn a bulletproof vest under the shirt...
She looked around at her teammates and pulled out the goblet, rolling it between her hands as her eyes continued to dart towards the bank. It had to be time to go by now. Plus, if they didn't make a move soon, the witnesses would be scattering like rats in a sewer. Sabrina lifted the Heiligefalle and looked to Phantom and Mad Dog, "I know I'm not in any position to be giving orders, but I figure it's now or never. You two seem like you can handle heading indoors and taking the heat off of Blaize." Heat, Blaize... oh, that was too perfect... She cleared her throat and indicated the shotgun in the rugged man's hands, "And you've got the tool to get us into the vault, so it would seem stupid not to send you ahead." The dark haired magician also gestured towards the intimidating figure known as Nora, "Do you want to go along with them? The more people on the offensive the better so we can get out before the cops swarm us."

The remaining people had all basically volunteered to work with the hostages from the beginning, so Sabrina began to focus her energy on the illusion she hoped to cast. "I'm going to conjure up an illusion for the stragglers out here. I figure if they see a cop or two herding them, they'll get out of our way and then we can keep them in the bank until the others are ready," she cleared her throat, "Only problem is, I can only do visual stuff at the moment. So, Chidaruma, do you want to come with me and provide the voices for them? Figure with that helmet, it won't be immediately obvious." That left Edgar and the tired looking guy to help them with the other stragglers.

Sabrina finished her spell and stood back as two very generic looking, fully attired police officers appeared before them. Mute and intangible, but they would be more than enough to command attention from onlookers.
Mad Dog grinned, cocking his shotgun ready for a blast. "Don't worry your heart out, lassy, I'll get this fooker good and proper" Mad Dog's accent went thick and heavy with irish for a moment, as he then moved forward, pulling down his face plate to make sure no stray bullets ping into his skull and kill him dead. To be honest, Mad Dog wanted this chance, this time to go all out and get the cash and then ride out in a blaze of glory. Obviously that would've required a lot more planning on everyone's part and just yesterday they were broken out of a prison. He sighed, wondering if Mercury City was even a good choice to get jobs in? Still, he didn't let that bother him right now, he had a job to do; Get money from bank, maybe blow some heads off while he's at it. He looked at the Sorceress, laughing slightly. "Me daughter is studying magic as well, maybe one day she'll come to Mercury City and ya can give her some pointers, eh?" he then looked forward, ready to move. "You can trust me to follow someone's lead, just point me towards any fucker who needs to get shot." He then moved forward, Roisin drawn, his grip tight and firm around the trigger, as he looked dead straight at the Guard in front of him. "OI! YOU FACKIN WANKA! COME ON AND FACE ME! YOU FACKIN CUNT!" Mad Dog Bellowed like the rabid mutt he was. "Plan is simple, take out fatso here, go in, take out any guards I see, and then open that god damn vault....perfect!" He reminded himself.
Sylar fidgeted at the sound of his nickname, wanting to give a different option but nothing better came to mind. Any nickname was better than his real name used in the current state of affairs. Besides Chidaruma wasn't so bad... it was just the fact that police officers had picked it out for him.

"Okay," he said, determined to be of some use and at the same time grateful that he didn't have to use his power to do it. He followed Sabrina and watched as her magic took form. He couldn't help but feel awe and question how someone like her was placed in the same ranks as him. If she was a C-lister... then what was he?

He cleared his throat with a small grunt and watched the illusion cops carefully to better match his voice to their movements. Suddenly he panicked, what was he supposed to say? Nothing to see here folks, move along? No wait, he thought, Sabrina said it was better to herd them into the bank...

Sylar started to sweat under the black helmet, he could already feel himself screwing this up. What should he say, or rather what would a cop say in these circumstances? It was then that Sabrina set her illusions in motion, immediately getting the attention of onlookers and Sylar opened his mouth in a panic, verbally vomiting an impersonation of one of his officer 'friends'

"If I could get all you lovely folks to step in doors! A warning's been placed in the area! Dangerous criminals are about! I'd like to clear the streets for safety and get you nice people indoors until reinforcements show up! If you'll step this way now, the bank right there is open and it's best we all stay together! Come along now! Come along!"

Sylar pinched a cut in his abdomen and projected the general feeling towards the onlookers. To him the pain was damn near crippling that he nearly dropped to his knees, but among the people present, the pain had been thinned into individual "stomach drops." This feeling was easily mistaken for dread which caused the more immediate blind obedience towards the illusory cops.
Tim looked at the rest of the criminals all decide on their own what to do before running off to do it. It left him confused by the sheer chaotic actions they were doing. Tapping the sole of his shoes on the ground, Tim thought on what to do. He was planning on following someone else's lead but now, he's not so sure that was a good idea. Well, if that's the case... what was it that he said he'd do back in the apartment? Right, that meant he should head into the bank.

Swallowing a lump, Tim took a deep breath before running towards the bank gun first. He saw the fat guard turn his revolver on the IRA outcast, only to take a thermite shotgun slug to the chest. The result was rather gruesome as the poor, no doubt under payed guard was lit on fire. It was about this time, the others around on the street took notice and began to panic. Luckily, the illusionist and the boy with the strange pain powers had told them to get into the bank, and not try and run.

Unfortunately, as Tim past the doors to the bank, there was a guard with his revolver at the ready. "Hands where I can see them!" Tim was startled by both the guard and the gun he was holding. In his surprise, Tim did what his trigger instinct said and shot his stun gun at the guard. The action sent a stream of electricity towards the guard that would incapacitate him if it were to hit. Unless it hit the guard's extremities then it would make said limbs numb.
Last edited:
Devin had an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach; he was under someone again. This time, not even by choice. Well, there was a choice; do it or probably die. "Should have just stayed in...." he muttered under his breath, the sound getting lost in the rumble of the diesel engine, the song on the stereo, and the noise of traffic that surrounded him. He regretted scrambling to get out of prison, like so many other inmates, out in Riverbank Minimum Security. Ever since he was out, he had the haunting spectre of The Broker's visit, hanging over him. A debt to be paid, with life, or servitude. What bothered Devin the most...was the simple fact that he was sick, and fucking tired, of being under someone else's thumb.

He had no desire to be a criminal, he didn't want to steal, hell, every time he got out of prison, he applied everywhere he could, for legit work; never amounted to sweet fuck all though. Yet every time he went to prison, some ignorant, worthless jackass, would try to say how he should just get a real job. Christ. As if it were that damned simple.

Now, caught in an attempt to steal some armour plate, he got dragged back into the same schtick all over again.

Well, to be fair...at least the Broker wasn't requesting he make massive, multi-turreted, city sized vehicles again. So, there was that?

No, instead he was being dragged to the front line. Not just aiding and abetting charges, but fucking accomplice would be on his record, if this got botched.

The cross flow of traffic finally slowed and stopped, as the lights changed. Green arrow above him, released the brake, and accelerated into the intersection and through, the van appearing completely almost completely ordinary, wrapped in the colours and insignia of "Father & Daughter Moving Co." emblazoned on the sidewalls of the enclosed box, accurate down to the contact details for the company. Inside however, were not the boxes and couches the you would expect. But rather a spartan interior, with metal and canvas sling benches down the sidewalls, a machinegun stowed on the right sidewall, a modified tailgate setup, a stack of three coiled spikestrips, in a dispenser, and a heavy duty, electric winch on a reinforced mount, just behind the cab of the vehicle. That winch's lead rising straight up to the roof, and along a track, where a controlled drop-lead could run, all the way out onto the tailgate that swung upwards, allowing Devin to use it as a hoist to lift objects up to fifteen hundred pounds in weight, and load them into the back of the van with exceptional ease and quickness. A second part of the tailgate, hinged at the bottom of the van, was much more heavily armoured, able to resist standard rifle rounds, and mounted within the "loading ramp", was a fold-out pintle mount for the MG, which lined it up perfectly with the in floor well, that held four hundred, fifty rounds of linked ammunition.

Slowing down, Devin signalled, and parked the van just up the street from the bank, as instructed by The Broker. He was on time, watching the people he was soon to be an accomplice of, start moving into the bank. Sighing heavily, he took hold of the Ultramatic SV, an exceedingly rare, and unique target pistol, and withdrew it from the center console. Dropping the mag, to check one more time that it was loaded. Reinserting the magazine, Devin drew back the bolt, and let it slam home, chambering the first round. His thumb swept the safety on, and he waited, for whatever would happen.
With the blubbery guard down, so casually mowed down by a crazy man with a hardon for fire. Plaything moved in tandem with the nervous looking genius and his blaster. She saw the gun about the same time as he did. But the guard payed her less of a mind and so she managed to let one of her toys, a car, slip onto the floor. The car drove at the police man who got hit by a 40 km an hour toycar, that smashed his foot from under him. He face planted hard, but his gun went off. Trough some stroke of incredible irony, It hit plaything right in the head and she keeled over. Her villain career cut short by a the stray shot of a 40 year old guard who just wanted a quiet morning for once in his life. Said guard was now face down, slowly grabbing for his gun as it skidded away from him. Akk while holding his face with the other hand trying to stifle the bleeding nose to no avail.

Meanwhile, the fat man finished burning to death, adding another black, sotty spot on the blazing record of one crazy IRA man. And scoring the group a headline in at least one newspaper tomorrow. It was about this time, that their ride pulled up. Kayne took the moment to admire the car before going ”Back it up with doors by the bank doors, makes unloading the loot faster.” He said as he banged the side of the Van the way he had seen people do in action movies. He snatched one of the terrified hostages phone as he ducked down along them, keeping out of the bloodied guards immediate aim. He popped the headphones into his ear and then recoiled at the sound. ”WHAT. IS. THIS.” He uttered in disgust and glared at the terrified young woman he stolen the uPhone from.

”Really? Taylor Swift?” He mumbled as he dropped the device in the trashcans. ”Trust me. Doing you a favor here.” Meanwhile, J.J headed off down the road to where the Police would most likely show up from. The blonde hydromancer made the water from the nearby firepost burst out, and while she could not control the flow very well with her weak talents, she none the less managed to create a flashfreeze across the road. She scurried of the side, keeping a watch.


With Plaything dead on the floor, Kanyes very blazé attitude to the whole event and Wills trembling aim at the downed guard, there was alot going on at once. The remaining guard peeked out the door to watch her colleague struggle. She bit her lip, it seemed it was starting to dawn on her that she might just be in a whole heap of trouble. For the moment, she was not paying any attention to the scrawny Tech-”Guy”


Last edited by a moderator:
Everything was going more or less according to plan. Sure, one of their own was dead, but Sabrina has personally thought the group was too big in the first place. As she saw Mad Dog set out to work, she realized it might not have been that smart to herd everyone inside of the bank. However, being able to control exactly what they saw was going to be helpful. No loose ends. Everyone present would tell the exact same story, that a new group of supervillians had arrived, and they were dangerous. Not to be fucked with. Something snappy to be splashed across the pages of the paper the next day.

As the innocent citizens settled into the dangerous hellhole that had become of the bank, the magician leaned in to give the young man in the helmet a quick kiss on the cheek... on the side of the helmet, where a normal human being's cheek would be. She purred, "Thanks, dear."

Turning to the witnesses, she barked, "Now none of you move, unless you want to end up like them!" She gestured to the singed spot on the floor that used to resemble a guard, and even to Plaything. They didn't need to know the exact circumstances of her death. All they needed was to feel such panic that they didn't get in the way. Their phones had been confiscated already, so it didn't seem like they were going to cause too much fuss. She stowed away the goblet, thinking that her tricks wouldn't be much good at this point. Instead, she followed behind Mad Dog before sneaking a peek into the computer room. Two guards were present, one with a gun aimed at him, and the other with quite the deer in headlights look. She wasn't sure exactly what the female was going to do when push came to shove, so she wanted to deal with her as quickly as possible. Going over the spell in her mind, and making sure she was behind the cover of the wall as she charged it up, she prepared to fire a blast at the unoccupied guard to put her down for the count.

Assuming it didn't miss.

She really didn't know if her aim was all she made it up to be during her practice trials, performed on the homeless population around her college. After all, this woman was a trained professional. Those bums were just kinda there. As she felt her palm tingle with spiritual energy, she knew there was no more time for thinking, if she'd put any thought into this in the first place. She jumped out from behind her cover, took aim at the guard, and let her spell fly.
Mad Dog was proud of the bubbling fleshy ooze that was left of the fat guard. "Welcome to hell, population? you ya fat gobshite" Mad Dog remarked as he marched into the Bank, kicking the doors open and readying his shotgun for any would be heroes at this moment. He looked around seeing the witnesses huddling together. "The Magic Lady" told them to be quiet or else they would end up like the guard he so lovingly shot to death. He laughed at the thought. "Good day to ya little shites! we are Debt Collectors, here to collect whats wrongfully ours!" he shouted. "And like the lady said, any of ya that moves? I'll make sure you burn like a baby in an oven" he threatened noticing some of the witnesses grimaced at the thought. He noticed that Plaything was dead, feeling nothing for her at the moment. "Well, I hope she didn't suffer at least" he thought, he had only met her today with no bond forming whatsoever. He carried on, his grip switching from a tight hold to a caressing stroke once or twice as he marched towards the Vault.

It was then he noticed Sabrina ducking into cover, following her. "You keep those fuckers busy, I'll get into the vault and grab the dosh" he explained as he then quickly ran towards the vault. Firing off his shotgun in a bid to keep them on the defensive for Sabrina. "Fucking, this should be an easy job! I guess I'm surrounded by amateurs. How wonderful" He lamented, looking forward and readying to crack open the vault with good ole' Roisin.
Not open for further replies.