The Unsubtle: New Ownership by Sir Exal
TEAM: The Syndicate
KIT CLASS: Master Training
Hall Of Fame!
Survival - 9 wins!
Brutal - 1 fatalaties!
League Wins: 9
League Losses: 3
Out Of League Wins: 0
Out of League Losses: 2
Total Wins: 9
Total Losses: 5
Hero - Win 15-7
Frank & Team Awesome - Win 13-8
Insomnia's Prisoner - Win 8-7
Fuzion - Win 16-4
Machine Nation - Loss 8-9
Hunger of the Circle God - Win 10-6
Flight of the Dreamer - Win 12-6
The End - Loss 8-11
The Storm Crow - Win 14-6
Henchman's Union Local 263 - Win 8-7
Lord Canelaser, Eater of Widows - Loss 10-11
Dangerman: Jack of All Rescues - Loss 9-12
Ravenna Alighieri - Win 7-6
Number 88 - Loss 8-9
Even old villains die. For every twenty bank robbers that kill themselves through their own stupidity or get their asses royally smited by one of the Maniacal Heroes, there's one veteran villain who's been doing what she's been doing for years, and her luck just runs out. Today, that luckless sonovabitch was the woman known as the Unsubtle. She staggered into a dilapidated structure, blood covering her khaki jeans, her red bangs plastered to her forehead from sweat, one of her arms lying limply at her side. The Unsubtle looked quite a bit different than she looked in her heyday, six-seven years ago. Her flaming red hair was cut shorter, her tanktop considerably more conservative; just a side effect of her aging into her older twenties. She had a variety of scars on her arms, and an eyepatch covered the socket of an eye lost in 2006. This is not to say, though, that the seven years of criminal career had changed her view on life; even though she was older, she had never lost any of her lust for destruction nor her elation when blowing up the wall of a bank or committing some other act of extreme larceny.
The Unsubtle found herself staggering upstairs in the building, like a dog looking for a place to flop down or a slowly wandering beheaded chicken. Her wounds bled profusely and every other step left a gory footprint on the floor behind her. She did not know where she walked. Finally, her legs refused to move anymore and she flopped against a wall, groaning. She still clutched an assault rifle in her right hand.
Her collapse attracted the attention of a young gunsmith and burgeoning hitwoman who was scouting the building for use as a snipers' nest. Her name, Lydia Diamond. She recognized the wounded Marauder almost immediately; she had been a devotee of the ex-assassin for years. She ran to the fallen villain and and kneeled over her prone form. Before Lydia even spoke, the Unsubtle looked up at the girl and reached forward, taking the girl in a quick and surprising embrace. (It is utterly possible that the dying chaos-bringer, vision failing, thought she was hugging herself; Lydia looks a bit like the Unsubtle, by Lydia's own admission.) The defeated woman then settled back down, closed her eyes, coughed painfully several times, then finally exhaled one last time and quietly died.
Lydia stood stunned at the sudden appearance and death of a woman whom she saw as an minor idol for a moment. She blinked back several tears. It was only when Lydia tries to look around the room when she realized the implications of what had occurred. The Unsubtle, mortally wounded, found her way to the room Lydia was currently in, an act defying common sense and probability. Providence had to be involved. Put that together with the Unsubtle's dying action, her illogical embrace, and Lydia found there was only one conclusion to come to:
Lydia Diamond was to be the next Unsubtle.
Personality: The woman formerly known as Lydia is nowhere near as talkative nor as witty The Original Unsubtle, a fact that mildly annoys her. Lydia Diamond, in fact, was a bit introverted. However, taking up the mantle of the Unsubtle has seemed to raise her confidence generously. Unsubtle should describe everything about her, not just her actions, she figures. She now takes every step she can to be as vocal as possible in whatever the Unsubtle does, whether knocking over a bank or demolishing a new condo development.
| Standard Normal human strength.||Agility:|
|Superior This fighter can dodge, weave and move |
with the grace of an Olympic gymnast.
|Standard Normal human endurance. ||Mind:|
|Weak BELOW normal human mental power. |
Not the sharpest tack in the drawer.
I buried The Original Unsubtle with the gun she had when she died; it seemed the right thing to do, especially as all her other weapons were seized by the KPD as soon as they figured out she was dead. Not that it mattered; the gun was an AK-47, and any serious gun user knows you can't hit crap with one of those things. I always keep a buncha guns on me, even when I'm not destroying somethin' or I'm on a job. It only makes sense. There's a lot of things to shoot out there. And a lot of different kinds of guns too. I have almost all of them, old and new. But 9 mm, .45, magnum. armor piercing, fragmenting, hollow-tip, it doesn't really matter, it all shoots, it all causes destruction, and it's all very Unsubtle.
I Shoot You Down
And then there's the tank. Over 12 tons of steel, gleaming, black beauty. The Original Unsubtle bought 'er when she got tossed in jail and then sprung on seventeen technicalities. She christened the beauty Vitamin T. When the KPD got their hands on her, I stole her. I am the Unsubtle after all, she's rightfully mine. Now, granted, she ain't as good as she used to be. It's been in use since 2001, hell, most tanks being used normally aren't commissioned that long. You weather attacks from every crime fighter in a two-mile radius for seven years and see if you haven't lost your luster. But does a tank need to have 100% armor capacity to still be kick-ass? Oh, hell no. Vitamin T can still do everything she could back when she still had that new tank smell.
- Power: Vehicle
- Kit Power Link: Master Training
I ask you, what's more Unsubtle then explosions? As much as I love pumping clip after clip and bandoleer after bandoleer of bullets into walls, why use several hundred bullets where one explosive round will do? It goes without saying that bazookas are pretty damn awesome. Bazookas were built as anti-tank weaponry, for crying out loud, and if it's meant to take down something like Vitamin T here, a few stupid feet of drywall ain't gonna do anything to stop the kaboom. The only hard part is the kickback. Holy crap, I've been flung into a wall by that sometimes.
I don't need to tell you that what comes out of the barrel of that colossal baby known as Vitamin T is just as destructive with six times the boom, right? I didn't think so.
Let's get something damn straight here: if you try to get near me, I'm shooting you. No two ways about it. Especially if you're trying to catch me by surprise. I freaking HATE surprises. I don't care what you're trying to do, if you're trying to punch me swordfight me or hit me with some close-range energy thing or, god forbid, trying to talk me out of whatever I'm doing, you're getting a mother-effing bullet in you. Maybe, if you're lucky, I'll aim for a non-vital area. But probably not. Just keep the hell away from me.
You Hit The Ground
Have you ever had a bullet in you? Neither have I, but from what I've read, it hurts like a bitch. People certainly scream enough for it to hurt that badly. Personally, I'm smart enough not to ever have gotten shot, so I'm not going to worry.
Bang Bang My Babies Shoot You Down
You don't make a living out of using guns without knowing how to shoot. I own a gun shop, for the love of cripes, of course I know how to shoot. There's way too many idiots out there think they can start shooting people like fish in a koi pond just because they have a handgun and a few bullets. Morons! Fortunately, they usually end up shooting their own foot or breaking their wrist on their first outing.
- Power: Marksman
- Kit Power Link: Master Training
I've been using guns all my life. I'm talented, like scary talented. The bullets go where I want them to go, it's that simple. I can shoot an entire clip into the same hole. And outside, all that training you've had inside goes out the window as you have to think about seven different factors indoor shooting doesn't use. And then there's aiming while moving, which even I'm not terrific at. Then again, when you've got the firepower I have, sometimes you don't need the best aim.
I hear some saying the days of the Marauder are gone. That there's no place for the random destroyer anymore. The Unsubtle's old organization is gone, replaced by some syndicate bent on manipulation over destruction. And I say screw that. You think I'm just some kid with a few guns and a secondhand name? You think I'm no one who can make a name for herself and her predecessor? Screw. You. I ain't the Unsubtle, Jr; I ain't the Unsubtle 2, I ain't Kid Unsubtle. I am the freaking U-N-S-U-B-T-L-E Unsubtle, just under a little New Ownership. The Marauders think they can just forget what they came from? I'm their 6:30 wake-up call. I'm better then them. They will remember the name of the Unsubtle. No one stands in the way of destruction, and I am damn well going to prove that.