The Reckoning by Morgarawth  | TEAM: Freelance Villain |  | SECTOR: LOWTOWN |  | KIT CLASS: Cyberware |
|  |  |  Winning Streak - 1 wins, no losses! |
| Fight Record
League Wins: 1
League Losses: 0
Out Of League Wins: 0
Out of League Losses: 0
Total Wins: 1
Total Losses: 0
Ghosts of our Past - Win 10-6
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 | "Something's not right here," he thought as he stared at the blood on the knob of the front door. It wasn't the blood that made him think that, though; it was the thin layer of frost beneath it. It was the hottest summer in years, with record highs everyday. The door was wide open when they got there, and the last place there should have been frost was the on the knob. He had the feeling something was very wrong here. Officer Thomas Whelan had been a cop for twenty-five years, and he had learned to trust his instincts a long time ago. Right now, they were telling him something unnatural was going on here, something bad. Worse than the report of gunshots fired they were here to investigate. "You find something, boss?" his partner, Toby Landers, asked as he walked up the porch steps. Thomas nodded at the rime-rimmed door knob, and saw the same sense of wrongness he felt reflected on Toby's face. "You got that feeling again, don'tcha?" said Toby, knowing the answer, but asking anyway. Thomas nodded, a grim look on his face. "This isn't going to be a good day, is it?" Again, he knew the answer, but hoped this time he was wrong; he wasn't. "No, I think we got a real situation here." Thomas unbuttoned the strap on his holster, put his hand on the butt of his gun, and headed inside. A few feet from the entrance, a drop of blood glistened on the floor. Thomas walked on, finding another, then another. The trail led them to a door in the kitchen, a door that concealed something they weren't sure they wanted to find. His palms slick with nervous sweat, Toby grasped the doorknob, slowly turned it until it disengaged, then waited for his partners signal. He watched as Thomas quietly pulled his gun and flashlight from his belt, got himself set, then nodded. Toby quickly pulled the door open as Thomas clicked on his flashlight, flooding the dark stairwell with light. He shot a look over at Toby, who had his own weapon and flashlight in his slightly shaking hands, and nodded at him encouragingly. They started down the stairs. As they reached the bottom, Thomas held up an arm, last three fingers extended, curling them down one at a time. Three...two...one. They strode smoothly into the room, swinging their flashlights around in long, steady arcs, searching for something they weren't't sure they wanted to find. There was a jumble of wooden crates and an antique dresser minus the drawers along one wall, and an old, rusty bike leaning up against the wall furthest from them. That was all peripheral, though; at the edge of sight. What held their incredulous gaze lay dripping blood and brain matter in the center of the room. "Oh, God!" Toby moaned thickly, turning away as he retched violently. Thomas just stared, face deathly pale, struggling to keep from vomiting himself. Bound tight in what looked like an old fashioned dentists chair was the body of a young woman, the handle of a hand gun still held loosely in one hand. The shot that had been called in had been this poor girl blasting her brains out of the back of her head. The hell this girl had gone through, Thomas wasn't sure he wouldn't have done the same thing himself. Through two tours of duty in Vietnam, he had seen and done things that would make a normal man quail, but what had been done to this young woman was simply...monstrous. He felt tears, hot and swift, run down his face as he thought of the pain, the unimaginable suffering she must have endured. He heard Toby choking back a sob, weeping uncontrollably. "Her face! Dear Lord, what happened to her face!" | Personality: The young woman crossed the darkened parking lot of Chicos Bar and Grill, stumbling slightly, singing and giggling drunkenly to herself. She was digging around in her genuine leopard skin hand bag, teetering from side to side as she walked. "Where are you, you little bastards?" she slurred viciously, clawing furiously through tubes of lipstick, tampons, and numerous containers of "recreational medication". "Gotcha!" she cried, keys in hand. She staggered on a minute longer before stopping at a shiny silver Lexus, her image reflected back ghost like from it's darkly tinted windows. She was examining herself in the window (hair, lipstick, eyeliner), when a pale hand shot out from behind her. She felt a small, damp rag pressed tightly against her nose and mouth, filling her nostrils with an unfamiliar scent, then she was tumbling, slowly, into darkness. The first thing she noticed when she woke was an itch on the tip of her nose. She went to scratch it, and that's when she noticed she couldn't move. Several heavy, leather straps were holding her down, bound helpless to some kind of chair; she couldn't even move her head. "Where am I?" she screamed, voice edged with fear. "What am I doing here? Let me out of here!" A woman appeared out of the shadows, with long, gray hair and paisley print dress; held at her side was a small hand gun. "Please stop screaming, dear. There's no one to hear you but me, and I'm certainly not going to free you; I brought you here." |
 | | Strength: | Superior The pinnacle of human strength.
Can bench press 1000 pounds. | Agility: | Standard Normal human agility. | | Body: | Weak BELOW normal human endurance.
Goes down easy and stays there. | Mind: | Standard Normal human mental resources. |
 | Awakened |
"I'm sure you're wondering why you're here. My daughter committed suicide one year ago today, an overdose of sleeping pills. Her name was Iris Marsden. I'm sure you remember the name; it was you and your friends that drove her to her death. She put it all in her diary, all the unkind words, the rude gesturing, the bullying around. My Iris was a smart girl, but she wasn't beautiful like you and your friends, and you never let her forget it. You will suffer as she suffered, and then you will die." "Do you like the chair? It was built by my grandfather back when he worked at the sanitarium, decades before they shut it down for inhumane practices. The doctors there believed pain could help to cure the mind, to free it from it's maladies. All medical procedures were preformed without anesthetic of any kind; they would strap their patients to the chair so they would be unable to interfere. Grandfather said the screaming would sometimes go on for hours. Hundreds of patients died on that chair, their blood seeping into the wood, the leather, becoming a part of it. It's said their souls are there too, inhabiting the chair, awaiting their chance to avenge themselves on the living. My grandfather moved to chair here after the sanitarium closed, so that it could never be used again. Now, I don't believe in the whole ghost thing, but I think the chair is just right for the purpose I have in mind." She slashed at the girls arm, her thigh, her abdomen; not enough to kill, she wasn't ready for that yet. At first, the blood pooled on the surface of the chair; dark pools slowly creeping outward. Then the puddles began to shrink, receding away into nothingness, leaving not a trace. The temperature began to drop, their breath a gray haze hanging in the air. There was a sound like a soft sigh, then quiet; even the girl's frantic sobbing subsided into a soft snuffling. The silence was shattered by a head splitting shriek. Blood bubbled up from the chair, oozing thickly onto the floor. Amy began to scream, squirming back and forth, trying to free herself. Her terrified eyes locked with Anne's; pleading, beseeching. Anne couldn't move; her limbs felt as though they'd turned to lead. She heard what sounded like a strong wind, then she watched as Amy's body was rocked back and forth, up and down, as if some force were pummeling her from all sides. Large, ugly looking bruises appeared all over her body; her eyes, blackened: her lips, split and bleeding.
 | Amy in Hell |
- Power: Natural Weaponry
- Level:Supreme
- Kit Power Link: Cyberware
- Multi Attack Attack can hit multiple times during one strike.
Horror- stricken, Anne watched as Amy's cheek was slashed open, blood and ragged chunks of flesh splattering on the wall. Another gash, and then another, until there was nothing left but a bloodied, mangled mass. Amy's screams quickly turned to a horrid gurgling as her throat filled with warm, thick blood. Anne moaned, aghast at the forces she had unleashed. Her hands were balled tight at her side, blood dripping down between pale fingers. She had wanted the girl to suffer, but not like this. "My God! What have I done! What have I done?" She reached down, snatched up the gun with one wet, sticky hand, and strode to the chair, trembling with dread. She raised the gun, hands shaking so fiercely she almost dropped it, and pulled the trigger. The bullet burrowed deeply into the girls horribly mutilated face. Twice more the gun erupted, blasting searing lead deep into the fleshless skull. Anne felt the black tide of unconsciousness wash over her. She instinctively grabbed for the arm rest, catching hold with one bloodied hand. The instant she touched the chair, the dead girls hand shot out, wrapping itself tight around Anne's wrist. Terrified, she tried to break free, but the lifeless appendage was as rigid as stone: immovable; immutable.
 | Escape at Last |
The dead girl's head rolled to one side, her devastated face turned towards Anne, small tendrils of dark gray smoke rising from her mouth and nostrils. The smoke gathered inches from Anne's face, a roiling, writhing mass. It coalesced into a black amorphous... thing; an entity that exuded evil so profoundly, her mind recoiled in revulsion. She opened her mouth to scream; it never came. The black form snaked forward, pushing itself into her mouth, muffling her cry. She felt it slide down her throat, slick her esophagus with ice, freeze her organs. She dropped to the floor, her body dying, her mind drifting away. "So many voices," she thought as her consciousness faded into oblivion. "So many voices."
 | The Reckoning |
- Power: Cold
- Level:Supreme
- Kit Power Link: Cyberware
- Area Effect This attack causes damage in a large area.
The multitude rose unsteadily, unused to their new home; they'd been without a body for far too long. They stared hatefully at the chair that had been their prison for so long, their spirits bound to it by their violent deaths. They were free now, free to avenge themselves on a world that had hidden them away and forgotten them. They would repay the living for all the tortures inflicted on them. They walked up the stairs, through the house, and out into the world.
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