S
Seductress
Guest
The young man was much too busy going off on his tangent to notice Nellie's black out. Her simple question caused him to wander off in the dark sides of his mind, not realizing just how much he was starting to sound like The Night Watcher with his conspiracies. Like he said earlier, he didn't get to talk to people all that often. It was nice to actually have someone lend him a listening ear, even though it did seem like she didn't want to be part of the conversation. At first, Kyle was getting the vibes that Nellie would rather hang herself by her feet and have her ears cut off. She also seemed fairly distressed after he went to check the radio. Seriously, what's up with this chick?
Placing his box down in the door way, which lead into his kitchen, Kyle smiled at Nellie's question. "I'm turning 23 at the end of the month. I've never really known my parents, so it's just been my older brother Sid and I since we were kids. I got lucky, there was only one of the two bedroom apartments left. I need to get this place ready, Sid is....getting out of jail soon. He got caught up with the wrong people, and made a bit of a mistake. Nothing that the judge deemed too far gone, though."
The floor plan to the apartment was actually pretty nice; the main doorway lead into the kitchen, which was connected to a very spacious living room/den. The only thing separating the two was a large bar like island that sat in the middle of the kitchen. The kitchen had the typical black and white, restaurant checker tiles, which turned into a beige carpet where the kitchen stopped and the living room started. The far wall was translucent, hosting the sliding glass door that lead out to the balcony. There was a fairly nice view from the apartment, one that actually caused Kyle to pick that specific building. After the living room, it lead into a hallway that hosted the two bedrooms, with the only bathroom in the apartment at the end of the hall. Kyle knew that he could do something truly great and interesting with the place, and was already thinking about how he would decorate it.
"Neighbors, huh?" Kyle called to Nellie as he wiped the sweat from his forehead. He walked out of the apartment, and leaned himself against his doorway. "Are you some sort of government spy meant to keep an eye on my brother when he get's out? Because not many people would pick up on that, if you were." He laughed, rolling his eyes at his own speculations. "Than again, spies are the last thing we law abiding citizens need to worry about these days, what with all of those superheroes running around."
Ben Verrick's Metahuman Prisoner Transfer & Holding Facility
Washington, D.C.
Sublevel 36: Rank 8 Metahuman Holding Cells
On the surface, Ben Verrick's seemed like a regular county jail. There was nothing out of the mundane or ordinary to suggest that America's deadliest villains reside there. Of course, not all of them were villains, per say, but when metahuman exhibits malpractice or malicious intent with their super powers, using them against the public, they were sent to the lower levels of Ben Verrick's Metahuman Prisoner Transfer & Holding Facility. With 50 underground sublevels, and over ten thousand cells and facilities, it was expected that Ben Verrick's was both impenetrable, and inescapable. The jail up top was more than just a front, but also served as the first line of defense.
Ben Verrick was actually a fairly significant name in the world of Superhero history. The man who once called himself King Nothing whenever he attempted to put his plot to take over the world in action, had been forced to watch Mr.Kringle 2: Empire of Dirt in jail after his last battle against Mr Kringle. He realized how silly he looked, being played by Kevin Kostner, and decided that the life of a villain was too unjustified. A man with a brain and powers like his shouldn't be constantly defeated by a superhero modeled after Santa Clause. That was just embarrassing. Hanging up the mask and cheesy 70's bright coloured suit, Verrick approached Pearson looking for help.
With the help of Mr.Kringle himself, Ben Verrick became The Redeemer, a superhero who wore no mask. He felt that it would be bad practice to preach villain rehabilitation, while hiding his past identity. The Redeemer was able to open his rehabilitation center, and constantly fought along side Mr.Kringle whenever the team up was necessary. After establishing himself as a changed man, Ben Verrick was able to develop a scale for measuring both power, and danger levels of metahumans. This is known as the Verrick scale, and is used in daily practices by law enforcement, doctors, scientists, etc. Due to his extensive history with Pearson, that's exactly why he waited inside the administration building up on the surface, the first part of the main jail that sat on top of the large can of worms that was just an elevator's ride away.
"Mr.Verrick," Came the soothing voice of Mr.Pearson as he walked through the door and up to the receptionist's desk. In his mouth sat a 7x70 "Big & Beefy" cigar, compliments of President Taffer. Pearson reached his hand out to Verrick, who happily shook it. "Everything running smoothly for you over here?"
"Well, it's not every day you get a visit from the Vice President. I'd like to think that life is going well at our little project here. Speaking of projects, I hear you've just started a passion project of your own." Ben was offered a cigar from Pearson's leather cigar holster, which he graciously accepted.
"That's a little too classified for me to be turning it into small talk, unfortunately." Pearson laughed as he offered Ben his match book. A man dressed in a three piece suit and tie, and aviator sunglasses, entered the building, dragging a large, metal trunk.
"I thought you were supposed to be retired?"
"Mr.Kringle is retired, Joey Pearson isn't. Now, we have some very pressing matters to get to." Pearson's smile faded away ever so slightly as three more secret service agents came through the door. They still weren't empty handed, however. They were pushing a dolly with a man chained to it -Hannibal Lector style. "Henry, give Mr.Verrick the lowdown, please."
As the group of men made their way to a rather large elevator in the back room, the titular Henry held up a clip board, reading off of it as fluently as if he had been practicing this for hours and hours now. "This man's name is Clay, Earnest Clay."
"Earnest?" Verrick scrunched his nose. "How big of a threat can he be?"
"Earnest here has been at large for almost six years now. He's been known to go toe-to-toe with The Night Watcher on various occasions. He's given him the slip every confrontation for five years, despite the fact that The Night Watcher is potentially the best line of defense against Earnest. He goes by the name Finn, and he's a combat expert. His muscle memory is more honed and perfect than any athlete we've ever encountered, and he never forgets. Names, faces, floor plans, fighting moves, there's nothing this man's memory can't repeat."
"Jesus, he sounds like a-"
"Level eight?" Pearson asked, his voice flat, as if he was tired of answering that question.
"For a guy named Earnest, he's going to have to be watched by maximum security." Verrick's little quip caused a howling chuckle from the otherwise lifeless Earnest Clay, who was restrained almost perfectly. Once the elevator reached Sub Level 36, and the doors sprung open, the only person who left the elevator was Finn. He was greeted by a heavily armed group of guards, who wheeled him away while everyone else traveled back to the surface. Alright, it was time for Finn to get to work.
One guy pushing the cart. One man to his back left, one to his back right, one playing free safety behind the three of them. One to the front right, one to the front left, and one man leading. It's a seven guard diamond formation. Heckler & Koch HK416 assault rifles, except for the guy pushing me. Pretty sure I saw a SIG Sauer M11-A1 on his hip. There's two sets of straps meant to restrain me; one strap for my arms, and one for my legs. Some form of leather. How typical.
Apparently, they never got the memo that Finn was a bit more on the stronger side. Once they got him closer and closer to his cell, to the point where they were unlocking it, that's when it was his time to strike. They hadn't even fixed their rifles on him yet, when the straps burst. Finn jumped away from his dolly, grabbing the pistol from the first guy's hip. He slammed the butt of the pistol into the man's throat, and then turned the gun on the man playing safety. The bullet cracked through his skull right between his eyes. The other two guards who were in charge of watching the flank attempted to get their guns ready, but didn't have the chance.
Finn's hand wrapped around the muzzle of the first man's rifle, smacking the gun against his jaw. Sneakily, Clay hovered his pistol over the guard's knee, pulling the trigger to send him to the ground on one leg. With the man incapacitated, he simply smashed the man's head against the steel wall. His lights instantly went out. There was one last man on the flank, who wasn't moving fast enough to keep up with Finn. Clay grabbed the knife that sat on the man's chest, attached to his vest. He unsheathed the weapon and spun behind him to use him as a human shield, slicing his throat open in the process. The oncoming barrage of bullets hit the body with deep impact, causing the cadaver to shake and sputter.
After the last three remaining men had emptied their magazines, that's when the knife came out of no where. It flew through the air, sinking deep into the first man's skull. The human shield was thrown into the dolly, which jutted forward and bit the second man in the ankles. Before he knew it, there was a bullet sinking into his lungs, which caused him to hit the ground faster than it took Finn to punch the last man in the throat, get behind him, and sever his spinal column with one kick. Just like that, everyone was taken care of.
Now, it's time to figure out how to get out of here.
"What a dumb shit you turned out to be," Came a thunderous, booming voice from inside the cell that would have been Finn's. "If you want to escape, and make some money in the process, let yourself get caught. We'll be out of here in less than a week when Surge and his buddies come."
Placing his box down in the door way, which lead into his kitchen, Kyle smiled at Nellie's question. "I'm turning 23 at the end of the month. I've never really known my parents, so it's just been my older brother Sid and I since we were kids. I got lucky, there was only one of the two bedroom apartments left. I need to get this place ready, Sid is....getting out of jail soon. He got caught up with the wrong people, and made a bit of a mistake. Nothing that the judge deemed too far gone, though."
The floor plan to the apartment was actually pretty nice; the main doorway lead into the kitchen, which was connected to a very spacious living room/den. The only thing separating the two was a large bar like island that sat in the middle of the kitchen. The kitchen had the typical black and white, restaurant checker tiles, which turned into a beige carpet where the kitchen stopped and the living room started. The far wall was translucent, hosting the sliding glass door that lead out to the balcony. There was a fairly nice view from the apartment, one that actually caused Kyle to pick that specific building. After the living room, it lead into a hallway that hosted the two bedrooms, with the only bathroom in the apartment at the end of the hall. Kyle knew that he could do something truly great and interesting with the place, and was already thinking about how he would decorate it.
"Neighbors, huh?" Kyle called to Nellie as he wiped the sweat from his forehead. He walked out of the apartment, and leaned himself against his doorway. "Are you some sort of government spy meant to keep an eye on my brother when he get's out? Because not many people would pick up on that, if you were." He laughed, rolling his eyes at his own speculations. "Than again, spies are the last thing we law abiding citizens need to worry about these days, what with all of those superheroes running around."
Ben Verrick's Metahuman Prisoner Transfer & Holding Facility
Washington, D.C.
Sublevel 36: Rank 8 Metahuman Holding Cells
On the surface, Ben Verrick's seemed like a regular county jail. There was nothing out of the mundane or ordinary to suggest that America's deadliest villains reside there. Of course, not all of them were villains, per say, but when metahuman exhibits malpractice or malicious intent with their super powers, using them against the public, they were sent to the lower levels of Ben Verrick's Metahuman Prisoner Transfer & Holding Facility. With 50 underground sublevels, and over ten thousand cells and facilities, it was expected that Ben Verrick's was both impenetrable, and inescapable. The jail up top was more than just a front, but also served as the first line of defense.
Ben Verrick was actually a fairly significant name in the world of Superhero history. The man who once called himself King Nothing whenever he attempted to put his plot to take over the world in action, had been forced to watch Mr.Kringle 2: Empire of Dirt in jail after his last battle against Mr Kringle. He realized how silly he looked, being played by Kevin Kostner, and decided that the life of a villain was too unjustified. A man with a brain and powers like his shouldn't be constantly defeated by a superhero modeled after Santa Clause. That was just embarrassing. Hanging up the mask and cheesy 70's bright coloured suit, Verrick approached Pearson looking for help.
With the help of Mr.Kringle himself, Ben Verrick became The Redeemer, a superhero who wore no mask. He felt that it would be bad practice to preach villain rehabilitation, while hiding his past identity. The Redeemer was able to open his rehabilitation center, and constantly fought along side Mr.Kringle whenever the team up was necessary. After establishing himself as a changed man, Ben Verrick was able to develop a scale for measuring both power, and danger levels of metahumans. This is known as the Verrick scale, and is used in daily practices by law enforcement, doctors, scientists, etc. Due to his extensive history with Pearson, that's exactly why he waited inside the administration building up on the surface, the first part of the main jail that sat on top of the large can of worms that was just an elevator's ride away.
"Mr.Verrick," Came the soothing voice of Mr.Pearson as he walked through the door and up to the receptionist's desk. In his mouth sat a 7x70 "Big & Beefy" cigar, compliments of President Taffer. Pearson reached his hand out to Verrick, who happily shook it. "Everything running smoothly for you over here?"
"Well, it's not every day you get a visit from the Vice President. I'd like to think that life is going well at our little project here. Speaking of projects, I hear you've just started a passion project of your own." Ben was offered a cigar from Pearson's leather cigar holster, which he graciously accepted.
"That's a little too classified for me to be turning it into small talk, unfortunately." Pearson laughed as he offered Ben his match book. A man dressed in a three piece suit and tie, and aviator sunglasses, entered the building, dragging a large, metal trunk.
"I thought you were supposed to be retired?"
"Mr.Kringle is retired, Joey Pearson isn't. Now, we have some very pressing matters to get to." Pearson's smile faded away ever so slightly as three more secret service agents came through the door. They still weren't empty handed, however. They were pushing a dolly with a man chained to it -Hannibal Lector style. "Henry, give Mr.Verrick the lowdown, please."
As the group of men made their way to a rather large elevator in the back room, the titular Henry held up a clip board, reading off of it as fluently as if he had been practicing this for hours and hours now. "This man's name is Clay, Earnest Clay."
"Earnest?" Verrick scrunched his nose. "How big of a threat can he be?"
"Earnest here has been at large for almost six years now. He's been known to go toe-to-toe with The Night Watcher on various occasions. He's given him the slip every confrontation for five years, despite the fact that The Night Watcher is potentially the best line of defense against Earnest. He goes by the name Finn, and he's a combat expert. His muscle memory is more honed and perfect than any athlete we've ever encountered, and he never forgets. Names, faces, floor plans, fighting moves, there's nothing this man's memory can't repeat."
"Jesus, he sounds like a-"
"Level eight?" Pearson asked, his voice flat, as if he was tired of answering that question.
"For a guy named Earnest, he's going to have to be watched by maximum security." Verrick's little quip caused a howling chuckle from the otherwise lifeless Earnest Clay, who was restrained almost perfectly. Once the elevator reached Sub Level 36, and the doors sprung open, the only person who left the elevator was Finn. He was greeted by a heavily armed group of guards, who wheeled him away while everyone else traveled back to the surface. Alright, it was time for Finn to get to work.
One guy pushing the cart. One man to his back left, one to his back right, one playing free safety behind the three of them. One to the front right, one to the front left, and one man leading. It's a seven guard diamond formation. Heckler & Koch HK416 assault rifles, except for the guy pushing me. Pretty sure I saw a SIG Sauer M11-A1 on his hip. There's two sets of straps meant to restrain me; one strap for my arms, and one for my legs. Some form of leather. How typical.
Apparently, they never got the memo that Finn was a bit more on the stronger side. Once they got him closer and closer to his cell, to the point where they were unlocking it, that's when it was his time to strike. They hadn't even fixed their rifles on him yet, when the straps burst. Finn jumped away from his dolly, grabbing the pistol from the first guy's hip. He slammed the butt of the pistol into the man's throat, and then turned the gun on the man playing safety. The bullet cracked through his skull right between his eyes. The other two guards who were in charge of watching the flank attempted to get their guns ready, but didn't have the chance.
Finn's hand wrapped around the muzzle of the first man's rifle, smacking the gun against his jaw. Sneakily, Clay hovered his pistol over the guard's knee, pulling the trigger to send him to the ground on one leg. With the man incapacitated, he simply smashed the man's head against the steel wall. His lights instantly went out. There was one last man on the flank, who wasn't moving fast enough to keep up with Finn. Clay grabbed the knife that sat on the man's chest, attached to his vest. He unsheathed the weapon and spun behind him to use him as a human shield, slicing his throat open in the process. The oncoming barrage of bullets hit the body with deep impact, causing the cadaver to shake and sputter.
After the last three remaining men had emptied their magazines, that's when the knife came out of no where. It flew through the air, sinking deep into the first man's skull. The human shield was thrown into the dolly, which jutted forward and bit the second man in the ankles. Before he knew it, there was a bullet sinking into his lungs, which caused him to hit the ground faster than it took Finn to punch the last man in the throat, get behind him, and sever his spinal column with one kick. Just like that, everyone was taken care of.
Now, it's time to figure out how to get out of here.
"What a dumb shit you turned out to be," Came a thunderous, booming voice from inside the cell that would have been Finn's. "If you want to escape, and make some money in the process, let yourself get caught. We'll be out of here in less than a week when Surge and his buddies come."
So how come her voice was still ever so slightly tight with ire? Fuck. She really had to put a lock down on that. 
In the next moment, a million things happened. But all that mattered was the complete shut down of Nellie's emotions. And Iron Head returned, grabbing hold of the wheel, and forcing sentiment into the loneliest, tiniest chamber of her soul. Her breath steadied. The world clicked into place. And her frigid eyes dilated, honing in on the horrors unraveling before her like a hollow husk for a scientist.
No... No, no, no. What the fuck was wrong with this thing? Nellie took a step back when the arm was tossed her way. What? A peace offering of some sort? What did this thing gather from such an action? Something positively, apparently. The slip in composure was a sore mistake on her part and she tried to rectify it by scanning the arm, insides mellowing once more. She studied it a few seconds, letting her thoughts catch up with reality. This guy... This thing loved violence. The scent of blood and gore. She didn't have enough care within her to pinpoint an exact diagnosis of its mental state, but she gathered something useful.
Iron Head tensed from head to toe, the blood in her body lurching in surprise so violently that her innards ached from the backlash. Against her accord, against all desperate breeds of self-discipline, her gaze snapped back to Anarchy. 
Iron Head panned her focus outwards, nostrils searching their surroundings for any hidden indicators of rotting flesh. She hadn't forgotten about those name tags. There was no way he didn't have more of those puppet zombies on hold, waiting for exact moments like this to pounce while their guard was down. At the very least, she hoped that overwhelming him with his... apparent love for blood and gore would grant them more than enough time to end him before he could summon anymore corpses.