Living_Hellfire

Good job, pal! Im a big fan of anyone who puts effort into art that celebrates this game and their superhero alter-egos. Keep it up!

Wednesday, May 28, 07:06hrs Local Time, 2025 Janice Roberts had been a nurse a long time. Almost thirty years on the job and she'll tell you all about it. She was proud of what she did, she did it as well as she could and tried to be kind to junior nurses coming up. In 2017 she had been approached by Longbow, on recommendation of the chief of staff for Paragon City Hospital. She largely dealt with wounded soldiers, operatives and the occasional meta-human. She knew this patient was special. She could tell, the air felt warm. She heard the clicks before she smelled the cigar. "Ladies, stand up straight, please!" She chirped and nurses Philomena and Krystal stood up from their filing duties as a man in a flat black suit strode around the corner and approached the nurses station. Double-breasted with burnt orange pin-stripes, shirt to match. Black tie, black fedora and burnt orange, opaque shades. And the black, leather loafers. "Mornin', erm... Nurse.... ?" He grinned as he stopped. "Roberts! Janice Roberts, innit?" "Yes, sir, Mr. McRae." She smiled. "Grand, a pleasure tae see ye again, Nurse Roberts." He replied with a nod. "Would ye be so kind as tae direct me to where I may visit a patient?" "Of course, Mr. McRae. I assume you're here to - " She waved her hand backward at the two junior nurses who were now gawping. "Composure, ladies, please." She whispered. The Man in Black pretended not to notice. "Aye, Miss Park. If'n ye'd be so kind as tae direct me tae her room?" "Of course, Mr. McRae. Miss Park is in room 308, just up the hallway there, follow the blue line painted on the floor. Okay?" He smiled and nodded. "Thank ye, Nurse Roberts. Ye'r very kind." And with that plucked an already lit cigar from his breast pocket and jammed it between his molars and headed up the hallway, following the blue line painted on the floor. "Excuse me, Sir!" Nurse Roberts turned to find Nurse Philomena with her hand up. "Sir! You can't smoke in here!" The Man in Black stopped and turned, the hard-soled loafers grinding against the floor. He took the cigar from his mouth and dropped his hand to let it hang between his fingers. A coil of blue smoke wound its way around his arm, over his shoulder to encircle his fedora like a halo. "Aye? Is that so?" "Yes, sir. You can't smoke that in here!" Nurse Janice Roberts was horrified and it showed. She grasped her clutched hands to her chest as she stared at her Junior. "Nurse Philomena! Mr. McRae is well aware of the rules! We will speak about this later!" She turned her head to address The Man in Black but the only evidence of his presence was a thin cloud of cigar smoke hanging in the air. --- Sergeant Chris Williamson of the PCPD heard the clicks too and he began to smile. "What?" Asked Constable Barry. "I'm about to introduce you to a friend, Todd." Chris replied, motioning down the hallway to indicate a man in a flat black suit striding towards them and smoking a cigar. "Hey, he can't smoke that in here." "Shut up, Todd. Just keep your mouth shut." "Alright, then?." "Hey, Liv." "Who's yer mate?" Asked The Man in Black, motioning to the young Constable. "Oh, I'd like you to meet Constable Todd Barry. He's been with the PCPD for about three years now. He's doing well and he's up for promotion shortly so he needs to know what it's like to do this sort of thing." "Aye, I reckon that's because some day he'll have tae be ye, standin' there with yer chevrons introducin' me tae some new youngster, aye?" He puffed his cigar. "You ca-" "Shut up, Todd!" "How's the missus an' the wee ones?" "Sylvia's great and the boys are growing like weeds." "Ach, that's brilliant, mate!" "Thanks. Would you like to see Miss Park?" "Aye, mate, if'n ye'd be so kind." Chris punched the assist button and the door swung open and The Man in Black entered as quietly as he could, a trail of blue smoke in his wake. ------- The doors hissed closed behind him and he tucked the cigar into his breast pocket. He rounded the bed and stood a few feet away from the foot before crouching down to read the chart. June Park. A.K.A. Jump-Around. Female, 23 years old, meta-human - Teleportation. She had been shot twice, full penetration through the right shoulder and one grazing wound to the head resulting in a hairline skull fracture. Heavy bruising to her abdomen and extensive bruising and lacerations to her knuckles and elbows. She hadn't just transported the Longbow team into battle, she had joined them. He stood and looked down at the sleeping girl. What showed of her face between the bandages was purple, the same purple he has seen from the skies over Cape au Diable. He knew a warrior when he saw one. Her eyes fluttered and opened slowly before settling on The Man in Black as he stood at the foot of her bed and froze. "Who are you?" She asked calmly. "Why are you in my room?" "I have many names." He grinned at her warmly. "Me mum called me Fergus. Me Granda calls me Angziel. Mortals call me The Legendary Living Hellfire, which is a wee bit embarrasin' tae be honest." He chuckled to himself "Me mates call me Liv. Everyone else calls me Mr. McRae." "You saved us." "Ach, I wouldnae put it that way. More like I aided ye whilst ye saved yerselves." June smiled despite herself and winced. "I jes' wanted tae say that I was impressed an' tae give ye this, fer when ye've a need." He held up an alabaster card and laid it next to the water bottle on the rolling tray by June's bed before moving toward the door.

Monday, May 26, 01:52hrs Local Time Sergeant Winters slammed his last clip home into the assault rifle as he crouched behind the late model sedan. He keyed the radio in his ear "Medical, report!" "Jump-Around is still out, Sergeant. I've stopped most of the bleeding, but her head injury is my primary concern. I'm not sure if she is going to be able to regain consciousness." "Keep working, Command has assured us that help is on the way, just do the best you can." He clicked off and checked his right flank. Corporal Veers nodded at him as she ducked back down after delivering a volley of covering fire into the Arachnos forces blocking the exit of the fenced parking lot. "We've got this, Rebecca. We just need to hold on." He said. "Yeah, how do you figure that, Sarge?" He smiled at her. "Because we're on the side of the Angels." he replied as a speck of burnt orange flame approached from the West, high above them in the clear night sky. The battle was fairly straight forward from a bird's eye view. Arachnos forces had the Longbow infiltration team pinned down in the parking lot outside a non-descript office building. Behind a stack of steel crates a Longbow medic tended to a small figure in purple and gold while three soldiers held off a small army of Arachnos troopers. Several APCs raced down tight, narrow streets to reinforce the black armoured troops attacking the infiltrators, but most worrying were the three Arachnos fliers converging on the action. The Legendary Living Hellfire poured on the speed, diving at the airborne attackers. Lightfire sheared through the starboard wing of the first flier, sending it spinning into the abandoned commercial park North of the battle and The Angel on Fire warped the air around him, coming back around to close with the second sending blast after blast of concentrated, kinetic Hellfire into the engine of the craft. The resulting explosion sent the flier into a flat spin that carried it West, over the battle where it came to rest on the beach, a flaming wreck. The third flier had made its target. It circled, according to procedure, looking for a place to deliver its cargo of twelve troopers before shuddering. The pilot tried to adjust, but the OAT meter slammed against the pin and the aircraft lost altitude rapidly in the thinning air. She slammed the throttle forward to climb, but unbeknownst to her, it was already too late. The Legendary Living Hellfire drove his fingers into the titanium of the flier, channeling Hellfire to melt away the top of the craft. He tore away the titanium shielding, passed through the aluminum insulation and dropped down into the troop transport compartment. Men and women screamed in agony as their clothing ignited, revealing blackening flesh. Equipment fried, superheated to the point of combustion, gunpowder exploded in the ambient heat and eardrums popped as communication earpieces exploded. The pilot scrambled desperately to regain control of the flier but she was only denying the inevitable. The last thing she heard was a single word, spoken in a Scottish brogue. "Burn!" The Arachnos flier evaporated in the ensuing inferno, ripped to shreds down to the molecular level. The explosion lit up the night sky and for a moment the gunfire in the parking lot stopped as all heads turned. There, in the sky, surrounded by ash and dust floated a lone figure wreathed in Hellfire. "See, Rebecca? I told you!" Corporal Veers grinned at her Sergeant and popped back up to deliver kinetic retribution on the still stunned Arachnos troopers. "Medical! Status report!" "I think she's coming around, Sergeant! The bleeding is under control for now, but she'll need a hospital." "Good! All units, converge on Medical Sector now! Go! Go!" The Longbow agents retreated towards the crates, laying down blistering covering fire for themselves as they went, finally joining Specialist Medic Alverez as Jump-Around got to her feet. "Hang on... okay, I got this." The Superhero waved her left hand in a circle, opening a portal as gunfire rattled against the steel containers before collapsing into the arms of Sergeant Winters who carried her through, into the safety of the Longbow headquarters.

Monday, May 26, 01:07hrs Local Time, 2025 "Gin!" She cried as she slapped the cards down onto the table. "Goddammit, Mike!" "It's Mikayla, Steve, how many times?" "Fine, fine... sorry. Bad habit." The two security guards sat in cheap, white plastic chairs at a folding table in what used to be a greenhouse on the roof of a two storey warehouse. Two other such tables were placed haphazardly in the room holding hastily assembled electronic equipment, laptops and an improvised radar system, a radio cradle with six slots sat on a shelf by the exit door, two slots unoccupied. The stars twinkled down at them, shining through the glass ceiling of the now repurposed greenhouse in the early morning hours. Steven shuffled the cards and began to deal them out when thunder rolled over Mercy Island. Steve paused and locked eyes with Mikayla. "What's the forecast for tonight, Mikayla?" "Supposed to be clear." Four eyes widened. Two heads turned skyward to spot a burnt orange speck in the sky. Mikayla grabbed the binoculars on the table and peered through them as Steve bolted upright, spilling over the chair and dove towards a red button sitting on a nearby desk, but not before tripping over the loose cabling strewn about the floor. "It's him!" Mikayla blurted as she lowered the binoculars. "IT'S HIM!!" As the burnt orange comet screamed overhead. The sonic boom shattered the glass of the greenhouse, showering the two security guards in glass, followed by a wave of almost unbearable heat that carried with it a single word, like a whisper shouted in the dark. "RUN!" And so they did, out the exit and down the spiral staircase to the second floor, out into the hallway where they called for the men and women working overnight setting up offices and secondary labs to evacuate. In all eleven people made it down the stairwells and out the emergency exit by the time The Legendary Living Helfire had come around for another pass. Three workers would go unaccounted for in the aftermath, never to be found. He watched them flee out the side entrance as he made his final approach on his second run. Holding out his hands in front of him he summoned twin cones of Hellfire that draped themselves across the roof of the building. Aluminum evaporated and steel support girders liquified almost immediately, collapsing the roof down onto the second floor. His strafing run complete, he climbed into the sky, soaring above the city. The cool, early morning air giving an extra snap to the flames in his wake as he rose upwards, banking left before coming to a stop. He hung in the air hundreds of feet above the sea of low-rise buildings, arms folded across his chest and watched the progress of his efforts. The fires capered and danced malevolently, devouring all matter organic and inorganic. He watched as it jumped from surface to surface as it communicated with itself, making decisions, like a predator deciding what part of its prey to consume next. It gleefully chewed through the flooring of the second storey, sending the remains crashing down onto the first before finally guttering out with the exception of a handful of stubborn spot-fires that danced in the dark. Down through the wreckage he floated, almost reluctantly, dreading what he would find. He would not be disappointed. It was a horror show of experimental cruelty. Stations were set up to dissect and vivisect these poor, unwanted creatures. Limbs and extremities, scattered by the destruction of his entrance were strewn about the enormous, hastily assembled laboratory and along every wall were stasis tanks filled with fluid containing massive, mutated Arachnoids. Most of the tanks had been consumed or otherwise damaged beyond repair by voracious Hellfire but a a few remained relatively unharmed. He approached one of the tanks that were still intact and inspected the monstrosity within and The Angel grew wroth. He clenched his jaw in anger. These poor creatures, products or even descendants of Recluse's avarice and cruelty, granted not mercy but a second chance at torture as they were mutated even further. Changed forever from the mortals they had been or could have been into these... things. Recaptured and subjected to even more agony and usury. Only peace remained for these poor souls. He raised his hand and clenched his fist and the tank melted, sending the Arachnoid to wherever it needed to be in the hereafter. He repeated this for every tank left standing until his labour was finished and he paused, allowing the moment to pass over him when he heard the roar. The monster came out of the dark, enormous and feral, larger than any Arachnoid he'd ever seen. It grabbed him out of the air, carrying him backwards, crashing down onto the floor. Uncaring of the blistering heat as its hands and appendages began to blacken with contact, the two combatants grappled as they slid across the laboratory floor before slamming into the corner of the room. The Legendary Living Hellfire tried with two hands to control four. Sharp appendages stabbed at him, mostly skittering off Infernite armour but occasionally finding flesh, punching holes in the Angel as they slid to a stop. There was a flash. A Celestial Blade and an amputated appendage and the mutated Arachnoid leapt away, with one fewer limb. He got to one knee and coughed blood onto the melting floor beneath him before bearing down, inward, summoning Hellfire to cauterize his wounds. A helpful trick learned from his time in The Pits. He climbed to his feet as the Arachnoid mutant stalked him. The Angel recognized this behaviour. The doubly mutated creature was unsure of its prey, having been not so easily defeated. It circled him, backing away from the foe that floated a few inches off the floor, closing the distance. "Big boy, aren't ye?" He twisted the grip of his gladius in his right hand. "Alright, then, let's see what ye've got." The thing charged and was met with hardened flaming projectiles that struck with just enough force to send it staggering off course, sending it careening into the wreckage of a shattered stasis tank. It fumbled and thrashed for a moment, freeing itself from the corpse of its kin before regaining its feet. "Aye, I've got ye now." The thing charged again and The Legendary Living Hellfire moved through time and space, meeting the creature half-way, driving all three feet of Lightfire through the chest of the monster. It thrashed and struggled, first lashing out and then frantically attempting to get free but it was too late. A black circle widened around the Celestial Blade's point of entry and the Arachnoid cooked from the inside. Its head lolled back on its neck as it burnt to ash, leaving nothing but a cloud of blackened flakes that floated into the updraft. "Arh.... Godsdammit." Muttered The Legendary Living Hellfire as he wiped blood from his mouth. His ribs ached and he checked beneath his armour to find still seeping wounds. He would need a moment to recover, but he wouldn't get it. "Mr. McRae" A voice in his mind, fractured but clear. "Mr. McRae, this is Specialist Paulson with Longbow." The Angel sighed as he rose up through the carnage and into the clear night sky. "Hello, Specialist Paulson, why are ye invadin' me noggin'?" "I'm sorry, Mr. McRae, but we need your help. One element of the infiltration team sent to Dr. Aeon's lab has made it out successfully, but the second element has come under heavy enemy fire and has lost their transport specialist." "The teleporter?" "Yes, exactly. They need you, Mr. McRae. They won't make it out without you. You're the only one that can help them now." He turned East, towards Cap au Diable and breathed slowly. "Mr. McRae?" "I'm on me way" A blazing trail of burnt orange flame scorched its way across the early morning sky.

Saturday, May 24, 20:47hrs Local Time, 2025 Jessica Sanchez stepped out into the soft drizzle of the late evening and turned South, towards the docks of Peregrine Island before pausing under a streetlamp and turning right, down an alley towards the soft glow of a steel barrel in which blazed a cheery fire. She stopped at the appointed spot, mid-way and waited. "Alright, then, Agent?" She turned quickly, peering into the darkness to spot the cherry of a cigar glowing brightly in the dark under a rooftop overhang. She pulled up the collar of her overcoat and relaxed her shoulders. "Mr. McRae, thank you for meeting me." "Did it werk?" "Yes, they took the bait and now they're scrambling." The cherry of the cigar flared again and the scent of tobacco smoke filled the alley. "We're currently tracing their activity, they seem to be relocating to a backup facility in Mercy Island. We don't have the exact location yet, but we will. We are currently tracking transport vehicles as they evacuate the warehouse facility in Sharkhead." She paused "Mr. McRae, I hope you don't mind me asking, but when Sergeant Rafiq asked you to scare them, was that what you had in mind?" "Nay, lass, I dinnae mind ye askin' 'tall." Hard soles scraped against pavement. The moment hung suspended in the air. "Now, ye were sayin'?" "Right." Jessica cleared her throat. "Long story short, we think Lord Recluse is revisiting his Arachnoid project." "How so? An' what does that have tae do with Superadine?" "Well, I will answer that question, but first I want you to meet someone. Will you excuse me a moment?" Agent Sanchez made her way towards the street and motioned to a scrawny, middle-aged man with face tattoos and threadbare clothing. They spoke closely for a moment and then the pair made their way back down towards the burning barrel. "Mr. McRae, this is John Doe, he is our informant inside the Superadine operation in Skyway City." "Wait, 'Mr. McRae'? You didn't say anythi-" The cigar bloomed in the dark, reflecting off of burnt-orange lenses under the overhang. "Oh, no. No! You never said anything about him! You brought The Devil?! Longbow are working with The Devil now?!" The Man in Black chuckled. "I assure ye, ol' Scratch doesnae give a lick, mate. Me an' Lucifer have very little in common other than ancestry." "Listen!" Hissed Agent Sanchez as she grabbed the ex-con by his shoulders "This is your best shot, do you understand me? It's either this or you go back to the Zig. Tell him." They stood facing each other for a moment before Jessica rapped him on the shoulder. "Tell him!" John Doe sighed. "They're adding something to the 'Dine." "And... tell him the rest." "I don't - Look, Mister... " He put his face in his hands for a moment before looking up again "Listen, Mister... whatever you're called, I-" "Ye ken well me name, lad." His voice was pregnant with power as he spoke and for a moment the rain felt warm against the ex-convict's skin. "Now, tell me what ye know." "It's blue." "What's blue?" "The stuff, the stuff they put in the 'Dine. It's blue and it comes in these little vials about yeah big" John held up his hand, thumb and index finger three inches apart. "It gets added to the batch as a final step before it gets shipped off in the Skiffs. That's all I know." His head swiveled between the agent and The Man in Black. "That's it!" "Go." Said Agent Sanchez and the ex-con sprinted to the street and disappeared into the evening. "Agent Sanchez, I'm still nae certain o'where this is headed." She jammed her hands into the pockets of her overcoat and leaned closer to the building, out of the rain. "As I'm sure you're aware, Longbow has multiple concurrent operations at any given moment. One of the parallel investigations we have concerns Dr. Aeon who, approximately eight months ago simply disappeared from the radar. We discovered approximately five months ago that he's got a satellite laboratory on Cap Au Diable where he's been working on some project or another. Our agents and sources tell us that he's been working on a neuro-amplification agent designed to render the subject incredibly susceptible to suggestion." "So... " Said The Man in Black as he puffed his cigar "Ye reckon Aeon is werkin' on a substance fer Ol' Stevie in order tae finally bring tae heel his failed experiments, then?" "Yes, that's essentially it, but it's more than that. As you know, Superadine will cause the subject to grow in both size and strength. Imagine an Arachnoid the size of Wretch, but completely under the control of an Arachnos commander. Now imagine an army of giant, supersized Arachnoids. That's what we think is happening." "That would be a wee spot o'bother indeed." "Indeed." "What's the plan, then?" "We're going to launch a two-pronged assault. An elite Longbow strike team will hit Dr. Aeon's lab with the help of a handful of meta-humans who specialize in teleportation and combat support. We're going to try to wipe out Aeon's research and any active samples he may have stockpiled in his facility. Meanwhile we want you to hit the new production facility on Mercy Island and take it out entirely. Leave nothing standing. As panicked and disorganized as they are it should be a relatively soft target." "Alright, then... What's the time frame?" "Twenty-eight hours from now."

Friday, May 23 18:14hrs Local Time, 2025 Right on time. The Angel on Fire wasted no time "chasing" the skiffs as they registered the heat signal behind them and ignited their afterburners, climbing into the thin cloud cover over the water and separating as their rear-mounted guns swiveled to face the oncoming threat. The firmament shook as four sonic booms echoed over the Atlantic Ocean and the flanking skiffs banked left and right respectively while the lead craft lifted its nose up into the draft and allowed the trailing skiff to duck underneath and take lead, pouring on the speed. A fifth sonic boom shook the heavens and the battle was joined. Tracers lit up the early evening sky as they coursed their way towards the burnt orange comet. The rounds splashed and danced as they approached the centre of the blazing star as the man shaped figure rolled, capering almost playfully in the swirling fire, a tattered, shredded cape snapping in the burnt orange trail in his wake. The first Skiff went down hard, carved in two, right down the centre line by a blazing, concentrated beam of Hellfire. Its shredded remains fell, twisting and burning into the ocean below. One down, two to go. The reaction from the Sky Raiders was immediate. The lead skiff nosed down slightly, gaining speed as the coast line of the Rogue Isles appeared in the distance and the other two took up a rear flanking position. The cannon fire relented slightly as The Legendary Living Hellfire climbed, gaining altitude and taking position above the escorts into firing position on the lead craft. The Sky Raiders opened up once more, firing into the sun at their pursuer sending 50mm rounds of high-explosive proximity rounds at a target that was no longer there. The Ghost of Paragon City grinned as he registered the panic. He manifested his Celestial gladius as he dove, shredding the port side wing of the skiff guarding the left flank of the lead Sky Raider aircraft and arced right, blazing a trail of burnt orange flame in front of the nose of the remaining two skiffs, forcing the lead craft the barrel roll clumsily to avoid immolation. A sixth sonic boom shook, shattering the instrumentation of the Sky Raider craft guarding the right flank. The Legendary Living Hellfire couldn't hear the screaming enunciators in the cockpit but he knew they were there as he rounded the curve, heading back towards Paragon City, climbing again into the sun, climbing, climbing before pausing and holding still. Arms out, eyes closed The Angel fell backwards and Hellfire followed in his wake as casually he resumed his chase. The Sky Raiders raced towards Sharkhead Island with Hell on their heels. Before long the lead craft broke off, racing North West towards Grandville as the sole escort banked South to greet the hunter that would bring its fate. The skiff opened up with lead cannons, sending a blistering barrage into the burnt orange comet. The oncoming fire was intense and The Angel on Fire ducked his head and channeled Hellfire to provide cover as the rounds melted and splattered against the heat shield before colliding with the skiff, igniting the cold-fusion reactor powering the aircraft. The resulting explosion lit up the newly darkened night sky over the Atlantic Ocean and the lead skiff sped onwards to safety. Some time later Arachnos agents would report a fisherman who witnessed a bright, burnt-orange light over the ocean, West of his fishing spot. The report would contain the following description; "Like wings, but on fire, and then there was a blast of heat that came off the water. I packed my gear and headed home. I don't know nothin' else."

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Friday May 23, 16:48hrs Local Time, 2025 Abdul Rafiq stood at the corner of First and Fisher in the warehouse district South of the Green Line awaiting his contact. The sun was just lowering itself, but there would still be another couple hours of daylight. Thunder rolled in the cloudless skies over Independence Port and he knew he wouldn't have to wait much longer and he was right for shortly thereafter came the unmistakable sound of hard-soled leather loafers on pavement. "You took your time, Mr. McRae." The Man in Black shrugged and grinned behind his cigar, stopping a good six feet from the other man. He plucked the cigar from his mouth with the first two fingers of his right hand and let his arm drop to his side and the smoke coiled around his arm like a snake. "Well, I'm here now. How can I aid ye?" There was no point in arguing with him. "My bosses need your help. Our intel reports have revealed that every night, right around six o'clock a squad of specially refitted Sky Raider Skiffs have been making runs to Sharkhead Isle." "Go on." "They're leaving from Skyway City, specifically one warehouse in the Northern District. When we investigated the warehouse we discovered a massive operation producing Superadine." "Aye, well... Trolls, innit?" Abdul grimaced and waggled his head "Well, yes and no. You see, the operation is being run by a woman." The Man Black narrowed his eyes behind his burnt-orange lenses. "A female troll?" "No, Mr. McRae. A woman. The Trolls call her Boss-Lady." "Hardly a creative bunch. Who is she?" "Well, that's the thing, we don't know. We've heard her voice on surveillance and our CI on the inside has seen her, but no pictures are available, she rarely is on scene and seems to avoid any window that isn't blacked out. What we DO know is that she is very much in charge." "Tell me about yer informant." "He's an ex-con, but that's the other thing that's unusual about this. Trolls don't hire outsiders, but this operation is so massive they don't have a choice, but nobody would willingly work for Trolls so they're forced to hire ex-cons. The kind of guys who can't get a job anywhere else." Abdul sighed. "These guys... they really don't have any other options and from what our informant tells us most of them figure that even if they do get pinched working for Trolls that the worst that happens is that they get hit with an accomplice charge and released with time served and, frankly they're probably right about that." The Man in Black jammed the cigar back between his molars and breathed deeply, sending a plume of blue smoke into the air. "An' so ye'd like me tae shut it down, then, is that it?" "Not exactly, Mr. McRae. You see, as you know it's highly unusual that the Sky Raiders and The Trolls would be working together at all and what's truly exceptional is the notion that they both may be cooperating with a third party in the Rogue Isles. Moreover, this mysterious "Boss-Lady" figure can't be identified so there may even be a fourth player." Abdul sighed and looked around, making sure, not for the first time that they were more or less alone. Cars hissed past, but the sidewalks were empty and all visible doors and windows were closed. "What we want from you is a little more... subtle." The Man in Black chuckled. "Subtlety is 'ardly me speciality, Abdul." "I - WE know, but we'll get to that. You see, Dr. Keyes developed a kind of nano-tracer pigment that functions like a kind of marker or... what are those things old people use when they play Bingo?" "A dauber?" "Yes, that's it, a dauber. Every day about a dozen crates leave this warehouse in Skyway and are loaded onto four modified Skiffs to be transported. We know they fly over Khalisti Wharf towards the Rogue Isles, but that was all we knew up until about a month ago, which is when we managed to convince our informant to use this dauber to mark one crate every day. So, for the last few weeks, one of those crates got marked and every single time they ended up at the same place in Sharkhead Island." "Positron is aidin' ye? I'm rather shocked, the only person Positron aids is Positron." "Well, no, not exactly, this is tech he developed for other purposes, but we managed to get our hands on it, so no he's not directly involved in this." "I'm less shocked." Abdul pressed his lips together. "So, ye'd like me tae shut down the warehouse in Sharkhead, is that it, then?" "Well... no. We'd like you to follow the skiffs, but we don't want you to do anything other than scare them." "Scare them? Am I the boogey-man, now?" "Well... I mean... " Abdul shrugged. "Alright, point taken. So, skiffs leavin' o'er Khalisti around six o'clock aimin' t'wards Sharkhead. Have ye an address?" "Seven, Seven, Four, Three, Seven Kelprun Circle. It's another warehouse." "An', ye jes' wish me tae frighten'em? Who, the Sky Raiders or whosoever is at the warehouse in Sharkhead?" "Well, either. Both. Look, as I said, there could be up to four players involved here and this operation is incredibly well run, smooth, quiet. We have no idea how long this has even been going on before we caught wind of it. We need to know who's involved and in order to do that we need to make them panic a little, shake the bee-hive and see what comes out. Maybe they relocate, maybe someone with doubts decides to turn state, for sure it'll set off a flurry of communications that may help us pin down what we're dealing with, but either way they seem pretty comfortable in what they're doing and we need to change that. Make them make a mistake or something." The Man in Black puffed his cigar and stood silently for a few moments. "Why me? Surely you've got operatives what would be capable o'reconnoiterin' such a place." "Well, yes, but we don't just want to observe it, we want to shake the tree and to do that we would have to make ourselves known. These people, whoever they are are not afraid of law enforcement, that much is clear. So we need something bigger, more dramatic to really send the message." "Why nae another like me? There are plenty o'heroes in this city what would be willin' tae render aid." "Mr. McRae, there is no one 'like' you in this city or any other city. You are one of a kind. You are exactly the sort of message we want to send. If they think YOU are onto them and interested then they'll panic and quite probably make a mistake and that's when we can grab them." "Flatterer." Abdul rolled his eyes. "Will you help or not?" The Man in Black nodded and grinned. "Aye. I reckon I shall." Before turning on his heel and walking away. "Wait, where are you going?" "Fishin'!" Came the answer back, over the sound of hard-soled loafers and the sickly, sweet scent of tobacco. Thunder rolled over Independence Port and Abdul Rafiq was alone. He wiped the sweat from his brow and whistled for a taxi and made his way home.

Friday, May 23, 17:24hrs Local Time 2025 Jeremy Stanton stood on the shore line in Khalisti Warf, eschewing the dock in the hopes that he would catch something smaller but more delicate. It was a quiet afternoon, edging on dusk as the midges began to float over the water. These rare moments were precious. They allowed him to reflect on the week before returning home to Marjorie for a late supper. She was making bulgogi tonight. Jeremy had no idea what that was, but Marj was growing adventurous with her cooking since their son had left home to college. This was his final weekend with them before returning to NYU. "Howdy, mate!" Jeremy turned to watch a man in a flat black suit, smoking a cigar and wearing a fedora stride down the beach towards the water, not a stone's throw from where he stood, hard-soled leather loafers grinding against the coarse sand. The Man in Black puffed his cigar and reached into his coat pocket, producing a short rod so black it seemed to drink the light. He cocked his neck and stretched his chin while he adjusted his collar with his right hand and flicked his wrist with his left and the little rod extended into a fishing pole with a sharp snap. "Any luck?" Asked The Man in Black as he gazed at his neighbour from behind opaque, burnt-orange shades. "A little." Jeremy replied, raising his voice slightly over the breeze. "A few bites." The other man nodded and cast his line into a cloud of midges. "Ye come here a lot?" His voice carried on the breeze, feeling warm against Jeremy's sweater. Jeremy shrugged, looking back over his line. He watched the man nod out of the corner of his eye. "Yeah, this is my favourite spot." "Ach, that's grand." That warmth again. He reeled his line in, shrugged off his sweater and tucked it into his backpack before taking up his fishing pole once more and casting into the river. "How're ye called, mate?" "Jeremy." "Name's Fergus. A pleasure tae make yer acquaintance." Jeremy smiled and looked over at the bearded man grinning behind his cigar. A burnt orange light shone against the bottom of his fedora's brim. Fergus nodded before looking back to the water. "Well, Jeremy, it's a fine evenin' fer fishin', aye?" Time passed, as it does. The two men stood on the shore casting and reeling. Jeremy occasionally yawning while the other man smoked. "So, what do ye do, Jeremy?" "Um... I was an accountant. I'm retired now." Fergus nodded. "How about you?" "Oh, I'm a teacher, a helper. Odd jobs, renderin' aid when required, that sortae thing." Jeremy nodded, puzzled. "So, like a handy-man?" Fergus grinned again, chewing the cigar between his molars as he cast his line again. "Aye, summat like that, I reckon." "I have a bathroom that could probably use your services." The Man in Black chuckled. "I reckon I'd be more hindrance than help on that one, mate." Jeremy reeled in his line and reached back to cast before pausing. "You're... " Fergus turned his head. "You're... you know?" Jeremy asked, turning and looking at the other man. "You're him, right?" The Man in Black, fishing pole in one hand, reached up to take the cigar from his mouth with the other as a squad of Sky Raiders roared overhead. "Jeremy." "Yes?" "Cover yer ears, mate, an' crouch." Thunder rolled over Khalisti Warf and lightning struck as The Legendary Living Hellfire took to the skies, leaving a glassy pit in the beach where he had been standing. Jeremy slowly stood up watched the burnt orange streak as it scorched the air, bending through the sky in pursuit of the Sky Raider squad. He gathered up his fishing gear and headed home, never once thinking to put his sweater back on. It turns out bulgogi is delicious.

I'm honestly slightly offended that nobody has had the balls to do this with me. At least as far as I know, I spend far more time writing about myself than I do actually playing the game these days.

Skway City, April 16th 2025, Approximately 15:45 local time Thunder rolled over Paragon City and heads craned to watch as a burnt orange light soared over the cloud cover of the rainy afternoon. "I'll be home soon, sweety." Said the woman into her cell phone as she strode down the sidewalk, the rain coat making her way home. She dodged other pedestrians and stood patiently at lights while she nodded, listening. "Yes, I understand, sweetheart and I'm on my way home, but it's crowded and busy an- " A car hissed past the lights at high speed, honking its horn, forcing the woman back onto the sidewalk. She gasped. "I'm sorry, Rupert, I've got to let you go. I'll be home soon, I love you!" The busy crowd stood for moment and the intersection almost froze in time. The traffic lights themselves seemed to pause before that same burnt orange flame seared a course through the sky above the buildings, in very hot pursuit of the car that had almost killed Amanda Carson. It could hardly be surprising that several airborne craft followed suit. Amanda had very little time to notice and simply allowed herself to be swept up with the crowd as they fled South towards the aid stations positioned near the warehouse district. Paragon City boasts one of the most organized mob cultures in the world. As a home to meta-humans, normal humans frequently have to prepare for the notion that they may have to run, fight or even prepare to evacuate at a moment's notice. Amanda ran with her fellow Paragonians, knowing that they would help her if she fell, and she did. "I gotchu!" Said a big man as he scooped her up by her arm. "Just keep runnin'!" And so she did. She ran as more aircraft began soar over the buildings, speeding their way towards that burnt orange glow. ****** Kyle Smith had lost his toy. He didn't realize he'd lost his toy, he only understood that he was angry about something. He wailed his anger and his frustration at the heavens with the expectation that they would grant him his demand that his toy be restored but it was not. So he wailed. What Kyle did not know was that he was 9 months old and laying in a crib in a shattered building, but he had naught to fear for an Angel would soon arrive to save him. The Angel spoke to Kyle, assuring him that help would arrive. The Angel smelled of ashes and was warm and Kyle slept. The firefighters reported an odour of cigar smoke in the air when they found the infant. ******** "I saw him, boss! I saw him!" Enzio Mangione snatched the 9mm from his desk as he leapt to his feet. "You saw that fuoco motherfucker?!" "Yeah, an' he's comin' right here, right now!" As a Capo Enzio had to follow certain rules, but in times of war he had authority. Especially when his social club is under threat. He holstered his pistol under his arm and motioned. His soldiers immediately cleared the poker table and the sandwiches and took up defensive positions behind the bar and scattered crates. "What was he wearin'?" "What?" "You fuggin' catzo, was he wearin' a suit or the other thing?" "It was a suit!" Enzio breathed deep. "Alright, maybe we can negotiate." The sound of hard-soled loafers echoed in the distance.

"I seen'im" Said Skittlecats as she perched on the stool, holding the bar down in Mercy Island's worst dive. "Or, I heard him." She sipped from a brass goblet. "I was doin' a burgle and just as I was about to lift the window I heard the clicks." Girstlefist leaned close and asked "Did you's smell da smoke?" He laid an enormous, pulsating hand on the bar. "Yea, but only after I waited, just a second, and then I was gone." "He did not chase?" "No." She sipped again and stared into the her drink for a moment. "And I did not burgle." ******** Scott was a drug addict. He hid, mostly in Skyway city amongst the warehouses, picking up discarded Superadine syringes. He slept behind dumpsters, scavenged through garbage for food, but mostly he just tried to hustle to make to the next day. It just so happened that today he hadn't found enough syringes, which left him no other option than to try to rob a Troll. The plan went swimmingly until Scott began to execute it. He crept out from behind the boxes at the entrance to the alley and immediately stumbled into the firelight of the burn barrel and four Trolls turned to look, failing to notice the figure emerging from the barrel fire between them. "Wellity... what have we here?" Ten eyes focused on The Man in Black as he straightened, puffing his cigar. The sickly, sweet blue smoke coiled around his fedora like a halo. He took the cigar from his mouth with two fingers and smoothed down the front of his suit jacket. Flat black, burnt orange pin-stripes. Shoes to match. Scott scarpered. Days later he would attend a meeting for recovering addicts. ********* Janice Danvers ran for her life. between the rows of cars in the parking garage, south of the metro in Independence Island. He heart clicked in her ears as she fled from the Tsoo. They were impossibly fast as closed the distance quickly. Janice's heart continued to click, louder and louder as she raced down the slope, bearing left. She exited out onto level one of the garage to a cloud of blue cigar smoke. She coughed and waved her hand in front of her face as she desperately cast about before spying the exit. She had a chance to take six sprinting steps before being knocked to the ground. "Keep goin', lass." Said a voice, crackling with power. The heat was intense, but not enough to stop Janice from getting to her feet and running away from the wall of fire that now blocked passage to the ground floor. She resumed her escape, sprinting out into the street as sirens rose in the distance. She would later tell a story of how Hell itself opened up behind her, saving her life. ******** Eugene Evans lost his keys again. They were just there, on his desk. He checked his wastepaper basket, but no. He rifled through his drawers, but found nothing amongst the long abandoned notes, paperclips and sick leave forms. He slumped back in his little chair and stared at the drop ceiling, basking in the fluorescent lighting. He only just noticed the barrel of the Beretta in his peripheral vision. The Malta agent was particularly large and particularly calm. He flicked the barrel of the gun upwards and Eugene stood. The agent pressed a finger to his ear before holstering his weapon and brining out a zip-tie. He pushed Eugene's shoulder, spinning him around before slamming him up against the far wall of the office. "You're coming with me." The agent breathed into his ear. They walked the length of the hallway, Eugene in front, the agent in the back holding up middle of the zip-ties to keep his hostage moving. They rounded the corner towards the elevator and pressed the call button. The elevator ride down was awkward as "The Spanish Flea" played. It was one of Eugene's favourites. The elevator dinged and the doors opened to carnage and the smell of cooking meat, a smell that was only overcome by the cigar smoke that hung heavy and blue in the air. A man stood in the centre of the lobby surrounded by dead Malta agents, smoking said cigar, the new, fat coils from which encircled his black fedora like a halo. His flat black, three-piece suit hung on him like a mourning cloak as he puffed his cigar and stared into Eugene Evans' soul from behind opaque, burnt orange lenses. The Bio-Energy Feedback Inducer hit the floor first, followed by the jet-pack and the Beretta that had been held to Eugene's head, shortly after he had realized he lost his keys. The Man in Black took the cigar from the corner of his mouth with the first two fingers of his left hand and blew a final plume into the air as sirens sang in the distance. He was gone by the time PCPD arrived, but both Eugene and the agent held still not daring to move until they could no longer smell that cigar.

Make her approachable. Make her friendly and kind. She doesn't have to be relatable, but she has to be someone that a person can approach and talk to. The other stuff doesn't matter much. The powers, the background, that is generally all revealed in time, but none of that can happen if people aren't interested in your character. My advice is this - Focus more on who your character is and less on what your character can do.

So sorry to the mods, but you know who I am so I'm pretty sure I can get away with this. I happen to be The Legendary Living Hellfire and I want to know what your main's theme song is. Given that I've been around for quite a while, I'll go first. I'm interested to know what music plays in your head when you think of your Main. Gimme what you got.

Christopher O'Callan loved walking through Atlas Park. Gretchen always brought him through the Blue Line, just North of the square and he gawked as he walked past the superheroes as they made their way, exploding into the the speed force, lifting into the heavens or just simply vanishing into the air as they teleported away, and like any 10 year old boy he was fascinated by superheroes and so he gawked. He reached up to take babysitter's hand and she smiled, accepting it warmly and guided him South and East, around the square towards where Ms. Liberty stood, welcoming admirers. He barely noticed the sound of thunder as it rolled over Atlas Park. She was the very picture of heroism, atop her plinth. Ms. Liberty stood accepting praise and handing out missions to young heroes who then zoomed off. Christopher jumped with joy, waving at the Goddess before gasping and reaching. He had let go of Gretchen's hand and was falling. He reached but Gretchen was nowhere to be found and he tumbled, tearing the knee out of his jeans as he rolled, slamming into the wall on the South end of Atlas Park. "Alright, lad?" The boy looked up to see a red haired man in a bespoke black suit, puffing a cigar. He stared for a moment, as the sweet blue smoke encircled his fedora. "Beg yer pardon, are ye alright, lad?" The boy stretched and stood. The scene was chaos with new heroes all clamoring for attention. He listened for his babysitter, but couldn't hear her over the din. He cried out. No answer. The entire square was a blur of colour and noise. Demons snarled, robots hummed and muttered their replies while ninjas gathered in close circles. Christopher staggered back into the concrete of the raised garden before he heard the voice again. "Alright, lad?" Blurry vision revealed opaque, burnt orange shades. The Man in Black grinned and puffed his cigar. "It's overwhelmin', aye?" He asked. "Ye should jes' take a long slow breathe an' I'll explain everythin'." Christopher took the man's advice and breathed and cried "GRETCHEN!!" The crowd continued to hum, paying Christopher no mind. "Lad?' The boy turned, seeing the man for the first time, his jaw dropping open. "Mister! Mister Hellfire!" He ran over before recoiling back against the ambient heat. In the distance a demonling cackled. He rose again to his feet, holding his arms up against the ferocious temperature generated by The Man in Black. "Are you The Living Hellfire, sir?" Christopher cried. The demonling laughed again and thunder rolled over Atlas Park. "Aye, lad, I am." The sickly sweet, blue cigar smoke coiled around his arm as he spoke. "An' I reckon Gretchen is lookin' fer ye. Ye'd best get along, then." A young woman came out of the scrum and raced towards the boy. There was a stern talking to and when Christopher spoke about The Man in Black who was no longer there Gretchen's breath caught in her throat. The thrum of rookie heroes, the occasional announcement over loudspeakers, the paparazzi's shouting demands, all were gone as Gretchen and Christopher looked up. A streak of burnt, orange fire cut a swathe across the night sky. "Gretchen! I met him! I met The Living Hellfire! He was dressed all in black, an' he - " "I know, I know...." She smiled at him and reached into the back right pocket of her jeans and pulled out an alabaster card, upon which was scorched the words "The Legendary Living Hellfire." Christopher took the card in his hand and stared before meeting Gretchen's eyes and grinning. "So he really does?" "Yeah, he really does." The boy handed the card back and together they made their way home. There may have been ice-cream on the way.

The flashing intro to PCNN blares into the night as walkers-by pause on their way home. "I'm Graham Richardson and this is your Paragon City nightly news!" He shuffles his papers before turning in his chair to the next camera. It focused in on his face, now grave and serious. "At the top of the hour we can report another sighting of The Living Hellfire." The image shifts awkwardly to show a grainy image of a burnt orange streak coursing its way across the night sky. "This footage was taken moments after a car operated by known bank robbers was suddenly halted, all four tires blown out. The police made the arrests and the suspects are now in custody." The image scratches and shifts. "- and that's when seven children ran from the building!" A middle-aged blonde woman implores a reporter "You have no idea what I've seen! He came in from the sky, in a streak of fire and saved those children!" It scratches again and a boy is standing on the street. Behind him is the noonday activity of a familiar neighbourhood. "Well, he was dressed in black and nodded, and then Frankie over there in the ice-cream truck smiled and that's how I got this!" The boy held up a chocolate dipped vanilla cone. The image scratched again and a weathered PCPD Sargent stood in front of a liquor store. "We arrived on scene to find three suspects having laid down their arms." The camera shifts awkwardly to focus on the MP5s on the sidewalk. "And that's it's. They confessed to the crime and we've taken them into custody." In a tenement building in King's Row a little girl plays with a doll. Black and burnt orange with long red hair. She lifts it above her head and leaps off her bed, simulating flight and squealing with joy. Above her a streak of burnt orange flame blazes through the night.

Talos Island, circa May 2025, 0138hrs. Thunder rolled and a streak of burnt orange flame scorched away the clouds above Circle Island, tearing away the cloud cover. It had been 27 hours since the girl had gone missing and The Freakshow looking skyward knew precisely what had come. They hustled towards the the burnt out shelter, scurrying down the porthole into the dark. They whispered and chastised each other as their metal augmentations clanked against the rock in their haste. The world shook above them as the Angel on Fire descended. The four Freaks huddled behind rocks, waiting in ambush and braced as the sound of shearing metal raced down the tunnel towards them, followed by a rush of warm, dry air. "This time!" Whispered the Chief Smasher "Listen for the footsteps, then we'll blow the mountain." The three others nodded, loosening their grips. There were no footsteps. A whirlwind of flame engulfed the little nexus of crossroads, devouring the four Freaks before moving on down the tunnel, a tattered cape snapping in the updraft. The tunnels twisted and roiled, often turning back on themselves. He revised the map in his head many times before finally arriving at the terminal end of the cavern system. It was wide and vast, stretching up hundreds of meters with various, offset platforms upon which were crouched all manner of metal enshrined and enhanced villainy. They opened fire. Lead rounds were superheated and splashed against black, armored plates as Hellfire ascended through the central column of the stone chamber, plasma bolts were deflected by a Celestial Blade and splashed against the rock walls and back into the attackers, sending them sprawling and lifeless. A cone of flame engulfed three Freaks as they cowered behind a steel barricade, forgetting that steel can melt and burn. A single beam of concentrated flame sliced its way through a Juicer Chief as he took to the air, sending his composite body parts crashing to the earth. A blast of kinetic heat slammed into a Champion Swiper as he leaped off a ledge to meet the ascending vengeance and fell, scorched and almost unrecognizable. The Angel on Fire reached the apex of the stone column. "Ye ken who I am. Release the girl." He floated there, wreathed in flame, the corporeal embodiment of wrath. "Oh, you are sumthin', ain't ye?" Cried out a voice. The thumping of footseps echoed. "Ye've a rot, we're the cure!" The voice bounced around the stone column. The violence had ended for the moment, the only sound was the crackling of flame, the only bouquet that of cigar smoke. "Yer delayin'. Where's the girl?" And then she screamed and The Angel on Fire answered. Mizzr_Skibs was an enormous Tank Swiper, a boss chief in his own right and a fearsome combatant and he knew it. He snapped one mallet hand down and slammed his feet, sending a shower of rock debris down into the depths of the mine. He swung the titanic hammer at the streak of Hellfire as it approached and the resulting explosion shook the earth. The remaining Freakshow clambered to their feet and fled as Mizzr_Skibs regained his footing and stared at his adversary for the first time. A man floated above him, copper hair lifting in the updraft, blackened armored plates against a burnt orange nimbus that blazed angrily against creation. Eyes full of flame and anger set into a bearded, square jawed visage, teeth bared. "How many times must I remind ye feckin' gobshites that this is my city. My people." Asked The Legendary Living Hellfire. "Again and again ye defy me an' select amongst these mortals the most vulnerable, the most fragile an' the most in need. Now... " He paused as he floated above the mechanical monstrosity. "Where is the girl?!" There's always a moment where decisions are made. The girl cried out, the Tank Swiper charged and The Legendary Living Hellfire swung the gladius gifted to him by his father and the battle was over. Thunder rolled over Talos Island and shook the cavern. The sweet smell of cigar smoke filled the top level of the cave structure and there was the soft click of hard-soled loafers on stone. "Are ye there, lass?" He called out softly. "Grace?" There was a whimper in the dark. "Jes' come tae me, lass, it's quite alright, quite alright, indeed. Jes' follow me voice." She crawled out of a tiny alcove, yellow shirt, blue shorts with her hair in a ponytail. "Are you... ?" "Aye, lass... Jes' so." He puffed the cigar, the blue smoke encircling his fedora like a halo. The Man in Black stepped out of the shadows left by the burning wreckage of his entrance and grinned. "We've a long way tae go tae get ye back tae yer family, so we'd bes' nae take too much time." "Okay." She stopped short of the carnage. "Best nae tae look, lass." "Can you hold my hand?" The soft snapping of burning tobacco filled the air, like a pause in reality before The Man in Black answered. "Nay, I cannot, but if'n ye jes' close yer eyes an' follow me cigar, ye'll find yer way out. Jes' listen tae me footsteps an' ye'll be alright."

In the gap between realities there is a room. It exists outside of time and space, at the nexus of all realities. It is a small, windowless room made entirely of seamless stone of apocryphal origin. The only source of light is a pedestal in the centre of the room, atop which burns an eldritch flame, devoid of any apparent source of fuel. The only other thing of note is The Door. This door is The Many Doors, though there is but one. Through it one may pass to any time, place or reality, for all realities exist be they discovered places, times or things or be they simply the creations of the mind through imagination or fevered dreams. This is a story of The Room of Many Doors The Man in Black emerged from the flame burning atop the pedestal in The Room. He was alone, as usual. The smoke from the cigar jammed between his teeth stuttered slightly as it rose from the cherry, creating a zig-zag pattern in the air before simply coalescing into a cloud around The Man's head, encircling his fedora like a halo. He was on vacation, taking a break from the regular patrolling and coaching and teaching youngsters how to use their abilities responsibility, for the benefit of others. Even angels need a day off on occasion. It was time for an adventure for himself. He puffed the cigar before jamming it into his breast pocket. He turned, tugged at his suit jacket, straightened his tie and made his way towards the door, his hard-soled leather loafers clicking their defiance against the oppressive silence of The Room. He adjusted his shades slightly before sighing to himself as he stared at the seemingly simple wooden door with the brass handle. Where would he go? Normally he would simply imagine his destination and open The Door and he would emerge precisely where he intended, but this time... this time was different. He simply wanted to go somewhere else, somewhere he'd never been. He wanted to experience something new, yet familiar and so he held that thought in his mind, closed his eyes and opened the door. He arrived in a city. A loud city. He emerged what appeared to be a barrel fire in an alleyway. Thankfully there was no one about to see him appear, however it did seem clear that this was a place inhabited by persons unknown. A sleeping bag was laid across the rear of the alley with a shopping cart parked near by, full to overflowing with all manner of scavenged personal effects, aluminum cans and various other bits and bobs. In effect, the alley was every alley The Man in Black had ever seen; dirty, dingy, dark and depressing, never mind the smell. He plucked the still lit cigar from his breast pocket and jammed it back between his molars and made his way briskly to the elbow of the alley whereupon he turned right and emerged onto the sidewalk of a busy, boisterous city street. He looked up at the street signs to discover that he was at the corner of Burrard Street and 7th Avenue. The streets were jammed, both on and off the asphalt. Taxis, delivery trucks, construction vehicles and private motorists all competed for the same extra six inches as they waited and sprinted in equal measure between traffic lights. Cars honked at each other and at pedestrians, other cars honked back and pedestrians gestured their meaning back at motorists. A cyclist buzzed past The Man in Black, a bell dinging loudly, forcing The Man to take a step backwards. This wouldn't do. Too many people in close proximity, someone was bound to get hurt. Already the people passing by him as he stood, gawking, were giving strange looks as they sensed the ambient heat coming off The Man in Black. He ducked back into the alley. He would have to get high in order to really understand where he had ended up. The Man in Black restructured the heat around him to lower the pressure above and increase the pressure below, sending himself floating upwards to the roof of the building. He puffed his cigar some more as he strode towards the edge, facing North-East and took in the view. From the roof of the tenement building the place looked very much like Manhattan Island. The buildings to the North seemed like mid-town while to the East it looked very much like the Financial District, with its enormous skyscrapers reaching into the blue. What was strange was that the bridges were on the West side of the island. The Man shrugged and directed his gaze upwards and directly across the street to a tall, drab, grey building with what appeared to be a spinning globe atop a plinth on the roof. A better vantage. He folded the heat around himself, forcing photons to bounce around and past him rendering himself all but invisible as he repeated his pressure trick and floated silently and invisibly across the gap, up, up and away to the top of the building opposite him. The Man in Black leaned over the edge of the building, puffing his cigar. The air smelled different, but then it always does when he visits other places. The traffic sounded the same, the buildings were more or less made of the same stuff. It smelled clean, no hint of Locals, even just faintly on the wind. Paragon City was rife with Locals, so it was a refreshing change. Maybe the Celestial War hadn't touched this place, he thought. "Excuse me, sir?" The Man in Black turned slowly in place, reaching up to take the cigar from his mouth. He let his hand drop by his side and the smoke coiled around his arm like a serpent as he took a long look at the man asking for his attention. He was tall, at least 6,4 and well built, but seemed to slouch a little, as though ashamed of his size. Dark suit, white shirt, blue tie, glasses, with thick, dark hair that appeared windswept but only slightly so, the only thing out of place was a coil that rested in the centre of his forehead. The stranger ducked and wove slightly as he approached, almost apologetically. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you, sir, but... " He paused, opening his stance and showing his palms. "May I ask what you're doing here?" The Man in Black nodded and showed his palms in return, grinning amiably. He had the cigar perched precariously between the first two fingers of his right hand as he turned to face the other man. "Yer quite right tae ask, mate. I beg yer pardon an' didnae mean tae cause a disturbance. I'm a... " he paused, trying to find the word "... a tourist. I'm afeared I've become a wee bit turned about." "Oh!" Said the other man "Well, in that case I would be happy to help you get to where you need to go!" He made a snorting nose as he chuckled, pressing the bridge of his glasses "Ma used to tell me all the time 'If you're not where you're supposed to be, then you've got to just keep going.'" The Man in Black nodded and his grin broadened into a genuine smile. He liked any man that honoured his mother, and he found he liked this man immediately. He jammed the cigar back between his molars. "Name's Clark, by the way." said the man as he reached out his hand. The Man in Black nodded, but stayed where he was a safe ten paces away. "A pleasure tae make yer acquaintance, Clark. Me mum called me Fergus, an' I thank ye fer yer welcome, truly." The other man's genial smile faded, soured and the expression on his face grew accepting as he withdrew his hand. And then Clark stood up. His shoulders straightened and his jaw tensed slightly, his gaze settled squarely on The Man in Black. "Who sent you?" "Beg yer pardon, mate?" Clark took off his glasses and took a pace. "I know you're not from here, Fergus. I don't know what you are or where you come from, but I do know that you are radiating heat that shouldn't be possible." His gaze lingered a while, taking in the Infernite woven, double-breasted flat black suit, the burnt orange shirt and black tie and finally came to rest on the burnt orange shades. "I have a lot going on right now, stranger. Why don't you just tell me why you're here and maybe we can have a reasonable conversation about it. This place, this world, these people, they are incredibly important to me and I won't have them harmed. They are under my protection. So, for the last time, who sent you and what do they want?" The Man in Black took a step backwards, his hands up. "I'm jes' passin' through, mate. I dinnae mean any harm. I'm from a place quite far from here, albeit quite similar in many respects. Where I'm from I'm considered a friend, a helper an' a teacher." The other man opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by a flash of light to the North. Both men turned their heads and gaped in horror as a ball of light and fire engulfed what must have been 6 city blocks. Rents opened in the sky through which poured all manner of horrors, slavering and screaming their bloodlust as they fell to the Earth on alien looking craft the likes of which Fergus had never seen. He turned back to see Clark loosening his tie, having already shucked his jacket. "Oh, yeah? Well, do me a favour, Fergus." "An' what's that, mate?" Clark tore open his shirt, revealing a brilliant red 'S' in a gold diamond against a field of royal blue "Prove it." And with that, The Man of Steel took to the sky in a blur. Lightning scorched the sky and the heavens roared with thunder and The Legendary Living Hellfire followed, a trail of burnt orange flame in his wake.

I am very glad to hear this news and I am so thankful to the HC team for all their work. I am proud of this community, the finest online gaming community I've ever experienced going all the way back to 2004. The value of the labour put in by volunteers cannot be overstated and neither can my gratitude.

The Pocket was quiet as the portal flared and The Man in Black stepped out onto the corrugated steel floor. He adjusted his fedora before jutting his chin to tighten the black tie around his neck. The sound of hard soled loafers echoed on the ramp leading up to the common bar and Isaac turned from his patrons to glance up at his friend who nodded back before disappearing upstairs. He made his way around the winding concourse to the second floor and stared at the guests gathered around the usual spot. It was the common assortment of youngsters, a strange mixture of bravado and shyness, flirtatiousness and dismissal but most of all uncertainty as if they had only just arrived. He wove his way through the thin crowd at a respectful distance to find a lonely stool at the end of the bar and promptly sat, pulling an already lit cigar from his breast pocket and jamming it between his molars. He turned to make eye-contact with Jenny from behind his opaque, burnt-orange shades and she nodded with a gentle smile and reached down to find an old dusty jug in an infrequently used cabinet. She filled the strange little, stemless goblet The Man in Black had already placed on the bar with a noxious smelling fluid before nodding again and returning to her other charges. "Why do you spend so much time here, Abomination?" growled the little demonling as appeared at the man's shoulder. "Ye ken the answer, Screwtape. I've tol' ye before, these youngsters need guidance." The Man in Black sipped from the little goblet and coughed before twisting to face the little, red-winged horror as it perched itself on the back of the booth. "And yet none of them listen." He sneered. "You talk and you talk, you even lead them into battle and they still don't listen. Why do you waste your time with them?" The Man in Black ignored his tormentor and focused on the room. All manner of self-styled heroes and villains alike mingled, as well as everything in between. The hum was familiar and he puffed his cigar and spun his little goblet in his left hand as he leaned against the bar-rail. The demonling prattled in his ear, joining the ambient noise of the space as he watched people in capes and tights and tactical gear and all manner of costumery meander back and forth. Time seemed to accelerate as more and more the interactions seemed to take an almost cartoonish aspect as they sped up. They began, carried on for a time and ended. Over and over as The Man in Black sat on his stool and watched. "Angziel?" He woke from his reverie to find an empty bar. Even Jenny had gone, but not before filling his goblet once more. The only other present was a beautiful woman with dusky skin in a white suit, as alabaster as his own cards. She leaned against the bar, filling his vision. "An' who's askin'?" The click of her heels left an impression as she stepped back once, her hands raised in surrender. "I'm just here to talk." She replied in Infernal. The Man in Black knew how it ended if he broke the truce of The Pocket. He could smell Downstairs on her. She was a Local. She returned to English. "My name in this place is Claire. I was sent by your uncle to parlay." The demon dragged a stool over to a safe distance and perched upon it. She stared through the shades into the fires that lay beneath. "Will you parlay... Fergus?" The Man in Black straightened and the cherry of the cigar still gripped between his molars flared and a sweet, blue smoke filled the room. "Did he tell ye that'd werk, then? If'n ye called me as me mum did?" The woman scoffed. "Surely you don't expect me to call you by that ridiculous name as introduction?" She snapped imperiously. "Ye've called me all the others." He plucked the cigar from his mouth and rested his wrist on his knee before sipping from the little goblet, coughing slightly as he laid it back on the bar. "It's what they call me, an' it's a name I cherish an' protect an' ye'll nae e'en say it once." He popped the front of his fedora with his free hand to meet the woman's gaze from behind burnt orange shades. The woman pulled herself to her full height on the stool and smoothed down the front of her blazer. "It would appear I've offended. I sincerely apologize, you are of course The Leg-" The Man in Black held up his hand. "It's jes' Liv." He watched as she tried not to roll her eyes and failed. He smirked. "Liv, the war is going poorly, for both sides." "Is that so?" "Yes, and I've been tasked with- " "Fer whom?" "Excuse me?" He shook his head and stood, draining the goblet before sliding it back into his breast pocket. "Fer whom is the war goin' poorly, lass?" She shifted on her stool. "Well, for both sides and I've been asked to- " "No." "Angziel, you have to underst-" "The answer is no." There was a flash as she stood. A blip and for just a fraction of a second in her place was a fearsome visage as her rage clashed against the curtain of The Pocket. Scarlet red skin bled through the designer suit, hooves in the place of heels, fangs hung over perfectly lined lips and leathery wings blotted out the pot lights in the ceiling. And then the image was gone, but not soon enough. "Angziel, son of Kadziel Opener of Ways, I address thee in tongue of your kin! Your Captor, Lord and Master commands your aid! Defy him at your own peril!" The fallen angel's voice shook The Pocket. Bottles rattled behind the bar, stools stumbled as of their own accord and toppled over and then, predictably he was alone again. "You can't just do nothing forever, Abomination." quipped the demonling as he uncurled from his nap, stretching languorously along the bench of the booth. "Aye, Screwtape, I reckon that's so." replied The Man in Black as he flicked a match and stepped through the flame into The Room of Many Doors.

Thank you, that's very kind of you to say. I hope this doesn't disappoint you, but I generally don't do ongoing series of stories, they're all generally one-offs, but I have many written if you're interested. They're all here, in the RP page of the forum. Cheers, friend.