Modern RP/ Future Style RP.

Setting: In a world where crime is rife, where even the government is corrupt, where the world is governed by money and power, it's every man for himself. Here and there are gangs involved in every crime possible, and amongst them, a criminal mastermind that surfaced from time to time to guide the gangs against the side of the Law.

Within the Law, there's still some who seek to do good. One such is Captain Clement G. Howell, who led a small task force of police seeking to do away with the bad guys. Helping them are the vigilantes, civilians who were fed up of the life they are living and trying to make the world a better place. How successful they are and how many problems they might face, is still an uncertainty...



Jason walked with smooth confidence and with a slight smile. He greeted everyone courteously and was led to his office where he began to work. The market was unstable, and this was a good time as any to buy some dirt-cheap investments and sell them at the highest possible price. The most basic rule, but most people seem to forget this in favour of "getting rich quick and easy." They don't realise that getting rich had only one rule. Work hard, work smart. Working hard by itself is of no use if you don't have the brains to know where it was best used. His own father repeated that line again and again to him when he was a kid. And now, he made it.

Setting his briefcase on the floor next to his desk, he unlocked his desk and gazed upon the pistol which he fitted for himself. Nobody knew it was there, which was just as well. People would start wondering why the heck would the leader of a successful organization would need a firearm, since he was so well guarded by bodyguards. Next thing you know, the police would find an excuse to jail him and get more money. Like they didn't spend enough of it inside doughnut shops already. He slid the drawer shut and picked up his briefcase, unsnapping the locks as he pulled out the documents and began to work.

**** Later that Night*****

Jason yawned and stretched his back. He glanced at the clock on his computer and it was already 7 o clock. He cricked his neck and packed his stuff, shutting down the computer as he packed. He picked up his coat and locked the door to his office before leaving the lavish building which housed his company. He nodded his thanks to the security guard who opened the door for him and walked to his very expensive Rolls Royce Ghost, which he bought from a friend of his. It was luxurious and he smiled as Jay opened the door for him.

"Back to Walker Mansion, Jay." said Jason cheerfully, "I'm sure you're anxious to get some rest."
"Yes sir." replied Jay respectfully. "As for rest, I had my share when I was waiting down here for you, sir."

Jason just smiled and booted up his laptop which was in the car. He looked over the stock market but grew increasingly uninterested as other things preoccupied his mind. He began searching for specific designs for clothing and he browsed through the section for males. His brows knitted in irritation as he found none which suited his tastes, and began looking for the darker designs. He briefly wondered if the superheroes from the comics would have better costumes, and began looking over the popular and obscure ones alike. Batman, Superman, Chickenman, etc.etc. He snapped the lid shut as the car parked up inside his large garage. It was filled with luxurious cars which Jason indulged in. Indeed, he spent more money on cars than he did on his decorations of his house.

He was greeted by Kevin, his butler by the door. He smiled warmly and loosened his tie and passed the coat to Kevin. It was a long day, but the night is still young, and Jason had more work to do. Dinner comprised of an excellent steak, cooked medium rare and complemented by the fresh greens and pudding. Jason ate slowly, indulging himself to the taste of the meat and the music of Vivaldi as it sifted track after track. Finally, he stood up and wiped his face, and made his way to the basement, though it seemed more like another house judging by the size of it.

There, Jason locked the door behind him and dropped all smiles, his identity turning into that of the Judge. His warm expression turned into one of anger and menace, hardly anyone would relate the warm kind expression to the dark, angry face. He started up the computers and while he waited, he checked the weaponry and cleaned them. He would use them soon enough. He worked dead in the night, where crime would be thickest and information easily extorted out of. He wore a balaclava before, but it just didn't suit him. He finally detailed all his weapons and started hacking into the military and police database, sifting through information.

Once his work was done... He could start the purge of crime from his city. The very same crime which killed his father and drove his mother to despair, which killed her as surely as a gun would. He punched a wall in frustration and sudden anger, relishing the pain which followed. He focused his mind. And went to work, this time for more noble purposes.

Annella was at her home, nestled among a quiet, suburban neighborhood, that, while silent as the dead at night, was bustling and busy in the morning.
She was glad to have found a good place to stay in LA, the place was mostly cities and big corporations...
Sitting on her couch, watching soaps on TV, with a bag of Peppermint Patties in her lap.
Anne knew she'd have to go to bed soon, but her boss didn't care how late she arrived to work, he was one of those gentle, easy-going people who rarely get mad, just as long as she works her shifts.
Milana, her German Sheperd, lay at her feet, already fast asleep from the long day.
The nightstand next to the couch had a bottle of pills placed on it, as well as a bottle of water. The pills were Anne's medication to help dampen the effects of her chronic depression phases, to be taken with plenty of water, or else she'd have a bad stomachache in the middle of the night.
She looked to the clock, 9:34... and already she was feeling tired.
Sighing, she grabbed the remote, turned the TV off, and got off the couch, being careful to not step on Milly's tail.
Grabbing her pills and the water, Anne walked into her room, whistling for Milly.
After a moment's pause, Milly, still sleepy, came in, her hazelnut brown eyes drooping.
Anne was already prepared for bed, just one more thing... She popped the pill into her mouth, took a deep sip of water, and swallowed the medication.
After quickly finishing the rest of the water, she got into the bed, patting the space next to her, " Come on, Mills."
The dog willingly jumped up onto the bed, crawling over and laying her head down onto the spare pillow next to her owner's.
"Night Mills," Anne said, smiling a bit as she patted Milly a bit before relaxing into sleep.

Jason finally shut down all of the computers and was ready to go get some rest. The beginnings of a plan were there, but he could not grasp it yet. He considered mixing the costumes together, where he felt that it could best represent him. Yes... it could work. What with his weaponry and his wealth, he could stop crime more effectively than the law enforcement. He saw that the new Captain, forming a new team to fight crime... A valuable ally in the crime war to come.

"Done working downstairs, Jason?" asked Kevin.
Jason nodded wearily. The tiredness was creeping up to him. He changed with Kevin's help, and nodded his thanks as Kevin grabbed him when he stumbled. He could only completely relax around Kevin. He closed his bedroom door behind him and bade Kevin goodnight as he shuffled back downstairs. Jason yawned and stretched. Tomorrow would bring a better day. He thought.

Indeed, the next day changed many lives...

Gerald threw his pillow at the phone in his room. It rung non-stop it seemed... people in these times hated each other... and the usual answer for that was to hire an assassin. However Gerald was no average assassin, not only was he considered to be highly skilled (and thusly.. his services were priced much higher than others) but also un-trackable. He was a former government super-assassin in lamence terms... formally he was a S.P.E.C.T.R.E a deSensitized Psionically Enhanced Conditionally Treated Reconnaissance Educated Sniper... for whatever reason the last S was left off... he didn't question the scientists.. there was no doubt that whatever drugs he was given the scientists were busy getting their buzz off them themselves.

Super-Assassin would be what the government had hoped members of this program to be, however most of them died or went rogue... like Gerald. He was a mercenary and his services would go to the highest bidder. Though there were some interesting situations where two clients wanted each other killed... suffice to say... they were "equally satisfied".

He got himself out of bed and picked up the phone.
"Hello?"
"I'm looking for Gerald.. is he availible at the moment?"
"Yeah? You're talking to him.. and it's 8a.m. I'm usually sleeping right now... what do you want?"
He pressed the phone against his ear using his shoulder and began grabbing pill bottles from what almost looked like a mini-bedside pharmacy.
"My associates and I.. have need of your... unique... abilities"
"Who do you want dead? Where are they? What do they look like? And what are you planning on offering me?"
"Oh we have no need for you to kill anyone... provided everything goes according to plan"
"Alright... I'll have you know... if I take this job.. and I'm spotted... after I escape I'll be after your head..."
He grabbed his sedative... in addition to suffering from mild psychosis and requiring it for treatment, Gerald was very irritable when woken up before 11am.
"Forgive me... I was under the impression that you may be interested in what we're after... you see we plan on... borrowing a certain element from a Class 10 Government Laboratory called: Psyphos."
"You must have some very strong or very stupid operatives to be attempting to take something outta there bud... What is it you're after?"
"Jorium... I'm sure you of all people would have heard of it... it's a new element that they recently discovered... created a good distance below the ground under extreme pressures."
Gerald began to listen more intently.
"Yes I know of it... it gives off psychoactive radiation, most humans get extreme headaches when around the element... those who have recieved special.. 'conditioning' react differently to it."
"Precisely... and if you help us... we're prepared to offer you a significant amount of what we find of it"
Jorium had originally been proven to have an effect on the minds of other assassin's of Gerald's breed... beneficial ones at that... it enhanced their mental capacity greatly, though only one recieved the Jorium treatment.. sadly he died shortly after due to radiation poisoning.
"What would you have me do?"
"Perch yourself on a nearby roof top tonight... watch the entrance... if ANYONE tries to enter or leave the building that way... take them out... be there at 11pm tonight... Good luck"
There was a dial tone... He walked over to his closet, pulling out his hostile-environment suit that conformed to his shape easily, his Multi-Sensor Helmet, and his favorite weapon the AGR-14. It had unique properties now that it had been modified with sophisticated technologies thanks to his clients. He threw everything on and made his way to his car, he had to scope out the area first.

****** Later on that Night *******
Gerald was in position, a roof top across from the entrance of the Lab. No one had attempted to enter or exit for a good while. He switched between sensor modes... Geiger, Thermal, X-Ray, Night Vision, Chemical Imaging, Motion Sensing, Combat Mode... Surprisingly flipping through them gave him more information than it normally did... The lab had numerous radioactive experiments going on... Some biological experiments as well... he saw some movement from within the lab, obviously it was his client's men... there was nothing to worry about. He switched back to Night Vision and remained prepared... if the operation were to become a mess... he would still have a card to play... an ace in the hole.

The bar was quiet, only a dozen patrons and half of which were playing Billiards.
The other five were at a booth, talking about college.
The one remaining at the counter brandishing a Smirnoff with extra ice.

Michael had lost count of how many he had had, but his body was telling him he hadn't even hit the 'Buzzed' sensation.
From the looks the bartender was giving him, and the lack of weight in his wallet, he was done.
Leaving the leftover money he had in his wallet on the counter (ten dollars), Michael walked out the back door.

The cold night hit Michael, and he grinned. Cold was one of the only things he felt, and he relished the feeling.
His peace was broken by the sound of flesh hitting pavement followed by the sharp sound of flesh on flesh.
A trio of thugs were beating on a man in a suit, someone who was dumb enough to walk home after working late and not avoiding alleyways.
Michael cracked his knuckles and took a running start at the thug farthest from the fight.

He didnt see Mike coming.
The fist was the first indicator, but the blackout that followed cut the warning off.
The two remaining thugs dropped the civilian, and turned just in time to see a trashcan being thrown.
One thug ducked, the other didnt.
Mike was slowly walking to the remaining conscious offender as he smirked.
"Enjoy beating on weaker people?" Mike asked.
"Maybe, you got a problem wit that?" The asshole replied.
Between the stupidity and rush Mike was feeling, he grinned.
"No. I do, too." He said, lowering himself so his eyes were level with the thug's torso.
A right jab at the man's left ribs, a left hook to the right ribs, and a solid right punch to the celiac plexus. The thug backed off as Mike twisted, rose from his crouch, and used the momentum of his turn to throw a roundhouse kick.
The thug went down and the suit with the briefcase bolted.

'The center of a man's mass normally hangs near the celiac plexus, solar plexus if you want to be cute. Blows to the stomach or the area cause your Diaphragm to spasm, causing problems breathing and mild pain.' His boss and best friend loved to spar, and taught martial arts and kick boxing as a hobby.
Mike took his lessons to heart. Repeating his classes and his sparring matches in his head was one thing Michael did without much thought.
That's what he did as he walked home from the alley.

Jason crouched, peering over to the mugging scum who were busy beating up a helpless guy. He pulled out his gun and was ready to jump down and give them a good beating and then kill them when a guy walked in on them. Jason paused, thinking if he should jump in now and take out the guy or wait. He decided to wait, that guy might help. Question was, which side?

Once the first punch was thrown, all of Jason's questions were answered. So, another good guy in this scum infested city. Noticing the way he dispatched the muggers, he decided that the man must be a fighter or a brawler. One used to fighting. He walked up to the last conscious thug.

"Enjoy beating on weaker people?" The man asked.
"Maybe, you got a problem wit that?" replied the thug.
"No. I do, too." and he made a series of hits which quickly and efficiently destroyed the man. Jason smiled. Another like him. Making sure that his mask was donned properly, he followed the man.

Jason jumped down in front of the man as he entered another alleyway, and blocked the man's instinctive strike to his face and defended against a blow to the stomach. He moved backwards immediately and stopped while raising his hands to show that he wasn't hostile. Jason wondered briefly where he got his fighting skills and how he managed to keep them while he was intoxicated.

"I mean no harm." said Jason, still keeping his hands in the air. "I'm sorry if I surprised you but, I'm impressed with how you beat up those thugs and helped the man."
The man squinted at him suspiciously. "You were there? I didn't see you."
"I can be seen or unseen." replied Jason. "I am the one that prowls the streets in the night, destroying injustice."
"Who the hell are you?"
"You may call me... The Judge. I hand out punishment to the guilty. Might I ask the pleasure of your name?"

The man hesitated for awhile.


(OOC: If you want to see my mask, see Guy Fawkes Mask.)

(ooc: tell me if this isnt something your character would say, or if Mike is making a wrong 'judge' of character. lol)
Mike glared at the masked man in the military outfit, debating if giving this guy his name would be a good idea.
Then again, he wasnt in the particular condition to debate choices clearly, though the brawl had sobered him quite a bit.

"My name is Michael Rime. And... I'm sorry for attacking you there. I'm not use to friendly masked men jumping out of shadows." Mike shrugged.
"Reflexes."
"Friendly masked men jumping out of shadows? Interesting observation," chimed the masked man.
Mike grinned, this... crime fighter, had class and was very civil.
"So, you're some kind of vigilante?"
"Your powers of observation continue to serve you well,"

Mike nodded his head, "Im not a fan of the local police, so i respect you for that..."
The cogs in Michael's head began turning faster, the alcohol in his bloodstream clearing.
"You want something from me, Mr. Judge. You wouldn't jump out of hiding just to say hello and nice job." Mike made a chuckle at the thought. No... This guy was a thinker. Mike wasnt stupid, so Mike could tell a smarter man when he saw one.
"Is there something i could help you with?"

(OOC: Nice, making my guy sound like the dude in V for Vendetta.)

Jason coolly analyzed the situation and saw that it was the perfect opportunity to recruit this man, or rather, his skills. The intoxication level dropped significantly, to the point where Jason's scanners can't detect any level of alcohol consumption. Interesting. Another test subject.

"You could help me well indeed." said Jason. "I'm not the one to wait around and do nothing while my city is infested with rats.
"I care naught for the inefficiency that normal people call the Police. I do things my way, and bring the scum to justice in my own pattern."
"Hmm... I like you. Yes, I like you a lot." replied Michael. "You're a lot different from the others."
"Indeed, and if the scum that are trying to surround us aren't stupid, they'd be running with their tails tucked behind them." said Jason, checking his sensors and scanners.

With a shout, around 20 thugs jumped out and tried to beat them. Jason noted that the first scum that Mike defeated was among them, and he was probably the one that called his friends to die. He jumped up and flicked two discs above to the walls beside him. He pulled himself up and dodged the initial wave. He let go slightly and kicked them in the face.

Mike simply ducked and hit their balls. Hard.

Jason retracted the disks and whipped out his retractable stun baton which he developed himself. He knocked one behind the head and the resultant shock from the electrical charge made the man scream in pain before collapsing, his skull smashed in. He threw the baton at the man at the back who was taking out his knife, aiming for between the eyes. The baton hit his eyeball instead.

Perfect.

Michael dodged, countered, ducked and attacked with all the skill of a natural. He attacked with brute force and Jason can see that he is succumbing to the combat high. Jason himself felt the adrenaline rush but continued his silent, deadly work. He threw steel balls at his opponents and they hit the ground with their faces bleeding or limbs broken. He pulled the balls back with steel wires and tucked them in his belt. He felt something move behind him and instinctively raised his hand to block the blow to his head.

Jason paused for awhile and saw that it was Michael. In his combat high, he perceived Jason as an enemy and continued attacking. Seeing no choice but to defend himself, Jason jumped on a dumpster and pulled himself up on to the fire escape. He pulled out a gun and fired a sedative shot, which Michael, in his haste to climb up, didn't see. Michael collapsed instantly. Jason would've been surprised if he didn't. That sedative could knock out 3 elephants.

He jumped down and dragged Michael away.

2 hours till sunlight.

Michael was dreaming.
He was fighting a group of thugs in an ally with a crazy masked super hero, and now he was back in the make-shift Dojo in the auto repair garage.
His boss was twirling a wrench and talking, but his words were to quiet for Mike to understand.

The dream faded to the back seat of a moving vehicle, his arms brushed the uncomfortable fabric and his head hurt slightly.
Mike's eyes were too heavy to lift open, but he could feel that he was covered in light sweat, and his skin felt hot, like his body was burning away something in his blood.
'Was i drugged?' He thought to himself. He felt extremely groggy, whatever his body was fighting through was powerful.
He was tired, extremely tired, and without strain, Michael fell back into sleep.

He was back in Mac's Garage, dodging wrenches. He and Mac were drunk, Mike a little less than Mac, and they decided it was a good idea to dodge things from around the shop.
Mac and Mike always had stupid ideas when they drank, even though Mac was in his thirties and Mike was underage at the time.
Mike had just thrown an empty oil can at Mac, who slapped it out of the air.
Mac was throwing a large wrench, and Mike suddenly realized how bad of an idea this was.

Michael's dream shifted before the wrench hit him, a welcome change, and now he was standing out on a snow-dusted hill in November, clutching a letter.
It was the letter he had sent to Amy after he left high school, telling her he was always thinking of her.
She had sent the letter back, unopened.
Michael started believing taking the wrench in the face would have been a better dream after all, his tears in his eyes and the tears running down his face were trying to freeze in the cold, but the heat rising from Mike's face kept them hot.
The cold never bothered Michael, but for once he wished his heart would just freeze and stop beating so painfully fast.
The dream slowly faded away, into darkness, and Michael was glad to get away from the memory.