The Contortionist

Hall Of Fame!

Survival - 8 Wins!

Brutal - 2 Fatalities


Alignment: Villain

Team: The Fallen


Strength: Weak

Agility: Standard

Mind: Superior

Body: Standard


Personal Wins: 8

Personal Losses: 3


Good morning, sir. I am 'The Contortionist.' But please don't call me that. As I think all my acquaintances should call me by name, call me Durante. Silent 'e', thank you. You come to ask me about myself? Very well. I consider myself an artist, as that is what I do. I use my hands to make things of beauty. No, I am not a plastic surgeon. I do what painters do with paper and paint, and I do what sculptors do with clay. I make things of beauty. You see, long ago I used to have this small green figurine that would bend in every which way. I delighted in contorting him into ways that no normal human could bend without breaking themselves. I fantasized about the truly beautiful thing I could see if a real person could actually twist themselves in this such manner. Then, I discovered that I could do this. Not that I could twist myself in positions that my anatomy doesn't allow, as my namesake would have you assume. No, I discovered that I can make people twist and turn, that I can turn even the most unseemly human being into a work of art. And what beautiful ones at that! It overjoys me to help a person become art, and I assume they find it as enjoyable as I do, but sometimes it's very hard to find a canvas that will stand still...

When you were a child, did you ever own one of those little plastic toys with wire skeletons? The kinds that you could twist and bend into whatever position your heart desired? Do you remember how many times you twisted it into as many shapes as you could, the kind of shapes that were most definitely physically impossible? You know, make the arm bend in four places, twist the head around and upside-down, change the spine from a S-curve to a W-curve, that sort of thing. Did you ever think about how horrifying that would look if you ever saw a real person bent like that? Would you find a heap of twisted bone, flesh, muscle, and blood as appealing as a toy of plastic and wire? I certainly hope not. Durante believes it to be the ultimate artform, a beauty all of its own that would've never seen the light of day if it was not for him. He is not a dark and evil man, in truth he is very gentle person, to the point of normality. His perceptions of reality are merely skewed. Very skewed. Skewed enough so that he 'knows' that what he does is his purpose in life, no matter how many argue or disagree with him. Though he is strong in conviction, he is not a strong in body. So you may just ask how he manages to take a body and twist it into so many fascinatingly macabre ways. The answer is simple. Bones do not break for him. They BEND for him. That blood you see is not from a compound fracture, it's from the massive internal injuries suffered by his 'canvas' while he works them into a state of something he likes to call 'perfection'...

The Artform

     Matter Animation: Ultimate

  • Ranged Attack Only
  • Multi-Attacks


Now, I know what you want to ask next, 'How do you avoid breaking bones when you make your art, Mr. Durante?' The answer is simple. People are like clay, like putty in my hands. I can bend without breaking. Whenever I mold a person they move to my whims, and love me for it. They love me so, and they sing for me. They sing for me in a wail that so reminds me of a gusty day out by a stormy sea... It is so wonderful. I bestow upon them true beauty, and they sing a song for me. I can still remember the first melody that greeted my ears. She was a soprano with powerful lungs. I still believe she was one of my best works. She was so nervous going in, chattering and fidgeting and trying to get away. When I was nearly complete with her, her parents found me, and they sang with her. I thought this was good, until they tried to stop me. I was told the only reason she let me mold her was because she was 'petrified with abject terror.' Pointless drivel, I say. She did not object in away way I could hear, she only sang for me...


The Subject

     Paralysis: Ultimate

  • Ranged Attack Only
  • Area Affect
  • Target Seeker
  • Multi-Attacks


It's so hard to find a canvas to work on sometimes. I would roam the streets for hours, searching for someone in need of my services. People were surprisingly hard to find. Then I was approached by the Fallen. They wanted me to go out and bestow beauty upon as many people as I could, on occasion telling me of certain people who desperately wanted to be molded as I saw fit. They gave me the means to locate many, but then they gave me this strange device. It follows me around everywhere, seeking out potentials, stalking them, and 'stinging' them, as I'm guessing that's what it does. It's such a pity. Now I don't hear the beautiful music that my subjects used to make for me as much. I asked one them why they wanted me to do this, and he told me that what I do is horrible and disgusting, and that it causes an infinite amount of pain. This coming from a man of the Fallen? Ha! What I do is as wrong as putting brush to canvas or chalk to a sidewalk. The Fallen have incurred much more suffering than I could ever in my lifetime, and they scold me for 'hurting' people. I do not hurt people. I should not even be in the company of murderers and thieves such as they. One of the only reasons I stay with them is because they told me they could keep me away from those Sentinels of Liberty and Justice and KPD officers, the ones who try and squelch my ambitions. I sincerely hope they rot, for there is no justice in stopping an artist from doing his work...


Unswaying Belief

     Mental Defense: Superior


Do not argue with me. Do not dare tell me what I do is wrong. Painters and sculptors are not criminals, and therefore neither am I. I am not an unscrupulous man, as I do not mold those who do not want to be molded. They have never said a word to me, have never told me to stop, have never uttered a single word that would indicate that they want me to cease what I am doing. They only make that music for me, the music I so delight in. The SLJ and KPD want me to stop what I am doing, but not even they can convince me not to. Flashy costumes with superpowers and badges with guns, no matter what they say, I refuse to discontinue my artwork. One KPD officer went as far as trying to physically stop me, but not even he succeeded. That day was a strange one. One of the Fallen, the same one who disapproved of my work, came by to help me, and he made that officer sing just like my subjects did. This one was not an artist, yet he could make others sing just like I could. I asked what he had done to make the officer sing, and he just called me an idiot and told me that it was 'screaming.' No, screams do not hold such beauty in them, and he was a liar anyways. Disgusting and horrifying. Ha. How funny I thought that was...


The Fallen Man

     Force Field: Standard

  • Reinforced Defenses
  • Weakness: Power in Item - Hard to Lose


I've been around the Fallen for much time, and I've been delighted with the many opportunities they've presented me with. I've had many good subjects, and many of them have given me marvelous gifts of the ear. But there have been many subjects whom I've not been satisfied with, either. Just yesterday, I was working with this boy who couldn't have been any older than fourteen, maybe fifteen. He had walked up to me, and told me 'Mr. Durante, I want to be one of your subjects.' Of course, I was pleased at such ambition, so I accepted. We went to my room, and I began to work. There was something about him though, it took him quite a while to start singing, and even then he didn't sing nearly as well as the others. There was something that made me uneasy about him, he sounded off-key... Then, to my surprise, in came the same man who's been accosting me the second I got here. He asked what I was doing, and I told him. He seemed quite shocked, and asked the boy if that's true. He nodded, and the man left, but only after shivering a bit and losing a few shades of color in his face. After my work was done, I decided to leave my room to contemplate the peculiarity of that singular subject. Once again, I found the man who does not appear to like me much, slumped against the wall near my door, looking slightly nauseous. I'm still wondering why that is, maybe he sensed how peculiar that boy was... I put in some conversation, tell him what I thought, made my discontent known, then it occurred to me why he might be there in the first place. I asked him, and he then showed me this letter he had just received from the Fallen Council. It appears we will be spending some time together...


Henry Oscard

     Counter-Attack: Standard

  • Weakness: Power in Item - Hard to Lose


If there's one thing that I've learned about the Fallen, it's what they value in a flunky. First, they like flunkies to be subservient, never ask for a promotion, and never have the ambition to want a promotion. Second, they better damn well be able to do anything that's asked of them, and that 'do' is usually replaced by 'kill', 'murder', 'assassinate', or some damned thing like that. Durante Truson's got both going for 'im. He doesn't care where he is on this ladder, and he'll gladly take out anybody the Fallen asks him to, under the impression that any two-bit a--wipe he's sent after desire one of his full-body facelifts. To tell you the truth, I hate the f---er to no end. I've been wanting to blast his brains out the second I learned what he did, and then jam his remains into a food processor and liquefy him into s--- just for good measure. So you can imagine how funny I thought it was when I got that notice telling me it that I was his new bodyguard. Let me explain a little something about that thing they have follow him around, that Paralyzation Node; it's real simple to blow up. One well-placed slug from a small handgun, hell, not even that, and it's just a pile of worthless scrap. When people went after him, they didn't know what it was for. Now they know, and now it's not enough protection. So they assign me to save his ass when he gets that deep into crap he doesn't know how to deal with. Real f---ing amusing. Y'know what? I don't want to protect that s---head. I want to leave him to rot with all the heroes who want his a-- on a silver platter, let him finally find out what pain is. One of these days I might just walk the f--- away, and let the bastard die. Until I can think up of a good way to convince the Fallen Council that he was planning to take them out, and that I was weeding the f---er out before he wisened up, then I can't do a thing. Not a single goddamned thing. Does he even know that he's a murderer? One that even has some career killers shivering in goddamned disgust? Haven't I put it through that thick f---in' skull of the end result of his 'art' causes a whole mess of pain? His first day, he came here with trunks to show the Council. I was guarding the inner sanctum, the door leading into the Council chamber; life's easy for me. Some other guard asks if there's dead bodies inside, even though we knew they were too damn small to fit anybody inside. I lockpick one, and lo and behold, there ARE bodies inside. They've just been folded to conveniently fit inside the trunks. And they're not dead. They're screaming at us, drooling and bleeding all over themselves (never a single skin break, just blood from the mouth and other orifices, stretch marks aside), telling us in f---ed-up voices and garbled tongues to KILL DURANTE. I didn't get it at first, 'cause seeing something that f---ing disgusting really screwed up how I was thinking. But, now I've been thinking about it more, about loading him with bullet after bullet, breaking his bones and folding him up, showing him what pain is. The day I was assigned to protect him, I was gonna kill him. But then I saw that kid, that kid who seemed so willing to die for this pseudo-f---ing-beauty, and I did all I could to try not to puke on myself. So, I leave, and wait outside. That's when some gopher gives me the message. I wait outside for that f---ing bastard, and tell him. My plans to kill him are shot. It'll be hard as hell to make it look like a work-related accident. I'm just gonna have to bear with it until the right opportunity comes along to f---ing screw him, and take it. I'm also gonna have to make it perfectly clear that I do NOT want to become one of his guinea pigs.... Maybe he doesn't know what he's been putting his subjects though. Until then, I'm his bodyguard, and I'm gonna have to kill anyone who tries to kill 'im, or I'll get killed myself. Not sure which one looks better, getting by heroes trying to kill a f---er I absolutely hate, or get killed by the Fallen for not doing my job and seeing one of the most satisfying deaths of my life. All because of a bastard who's got f---in' skewed perceptions. I get what Durante means by 'enjoying their singing' now. He likes to listen to them scream. Ha ha, very funny. Real f---in' hilarious...


Desert Eagle .50

     Projectile Attack: Standard

  • Ranged Attack Only
  • Weakness: Power in Item - Hard to Lose


"Here we are, Mr. Oscard. Care for some coffee?"/"...Nah."/"Ah. Alright. I'm not feeling up to anything, myself..."/(I think I'm just going to sit down. Ain't ever watching him do another job again...) "...What're you doing?"/"Oh, just checking on some of my older works..."/"...Older?" (Oh s---, the trunks, the ones he brought to the Council. He's opening them up again.)/"Yes, I always have keep my first works around with me. Except for my very first, her parents didn't seem to like me too much."/(F---, there he goes again, staring at his trophies. I oughta just kill him right here.)/"They've always held a special meaning to me, sentimental value and all..."/(He doesn't even know that I'm right behind him.)/"They're not as good as my present works, I'll grant you..."/(Doesn't even realize I'm holding a gun to the back of his neck. Total s---head.)/"...but I still see every single one"/(I'm never gonna get away with this.)/"with a kind of beauty all their own."/(The Fallen are gonna hang me by my own guts, but I gotta stop it sometime, goddammit...)/"Isn't that right, Mumsy?"/(...what?)/"Father was so happy when he saw how good I had made her look after all the years."/(No. No. He didn't. Musta heard wrong. Oh dammit, even I know that's bulls---. No, no no no...)/"Died of happiness right on the spot. His heart was getting weak, after all."/(...hell no, he worked his MOM?! The f---er, can't kill him now, they'd skin me alive...)/"Couldn't handle the shock. Must've been quite a rush."/(What do I do, what do I do, no time like the present, but I don't think dying's such a great adventure as they say.).../"I should've been more careful. Maybe if I had told him first..."/(I feel sick....)/"...Something wrong, Mr. Oscard?"/"...I'm gonna step outside..."/"Suit yourself. Have a nice day."/(Oh, f--- you too...)