PERSONAL

Gender: Male

Kit: Eldritch

Location: Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, New York

AFFILIATION

Alignment: Villain

Team: Solo Villain

VITAL STATS

Strength: superior (rank 2)

Agility: standard (rank 1)

Mind: standard (rank 1)

Body: superior (rank 2)

Spirit: (rank )

Charisma: (rank )

RECORD

Infamy Points: 0

Personal Wins: 14

Personal Losses: 17

Team Wins: 0

Team Losses: 0

Tourney Wins: 0

Tourney Losses: 0

STATUS

Status: Active

wred

People choose weird ways to walk back into your life. That and if you accept them could change everything about you. Especially in my case.

I run a little bar in a rundown part of the city. It was left to me by my Uncle Sal who died some years ago. Usually, I have the regulars come in around 9 and I run them out around 2 just before their tabs are too high. But tonight, no regulars, not a one. Plus there was some terrible kind of storm outside and thunderstorms always make me sleepy, so I figure I'd close up early and go home around 11. Well, it was 10:36. I know that's a weird time to remember but I do remember it because for that one little minute my whole life unfolded in front of me. That one little minute determined the rest of my life.

I hear someone come inside the door of my bar, but I don't recognize him. I can't even really see this guy's face. I keep my bar dimly lit, my regulars like it that way and the breaker is in the back, so I can't cut on any lights to see this stranger at my door. "Can I help you?", I ask hoping to get something out of him.

"Help."

That voice sounded weak and familiar, but I can't put a name to it. I move to the end of the bar but stay behind because this guy isn't moving at all and I'm a big guy but for some reason I'm a bit weirded out. As I move down, the dim lights catch pieces of this guy's outfit. He's wearing a suit. A black tie suit like for a wedding or a funeral. I stop in my tracks when I get a good look at his shirt. It has a giant red stain on the shirt and there's no mistake about it. That's blood. I look at the clock, 10:36. As soon as I glance back at the guy, I get a whiff of this awful smell that begins to cover the room. I can barely stand it. It's the kind of stink that sticks to your clothes and burns your throat. But, I don't move. I don't know why. "Hey, buddy. Can I get you something? Should I call someone?"

"I....need....you."

Me? What the hell does this guy want with me? At this point on any other night I'd roll right up to this guy, pick him up and toss his ass out on the street. But it's like my shoes are pinned to the ground. And that smell, that God awful smell is the worst thing I've ever-

"Joey, I need you."

My head drops. I feel myself sweating and I feel like I'm in a prison now. The entire room feels like its closing in on me, the smell has surrounded me, and this guy has me pinned down where I stand. Suddenly, I'm exhausted and thirsty and I feel like I'm looking at myself telling me to grab the shotgun under the bar, blast away at this guy, and run.

"I need your body."

Shit. I begin to recognize the voice. Is that? It….can’t be…. He’s dead and these things don’t happen….but it might be…my brother Bobby. He died ten years ago and his death made me get out of the life. We used to have a small drug and muscle outfit. We took some territories from larger organizations and even had a little fun. But he was killed, I know he was killed because I saw his dead hand. I got scared and chose to settle down, work with my-our Uncle at this bar, and be quiet, very quiet so that nobody finds me. Hell, I even chose to not get married or have kids in case I decide to get out of my little corner for some reason or in case somebody found me. Dead people just don’t come back, they don’t.

The me watching me is yelling at the top of his lungs now to grab the shotgun and shoot. But I can't. I can't not because he's my brother but because I can't move my body. My brother is moving toward me and takes a seat down at the bar.

"Sorry Joe, I know you want to move. But this hell stink, it can bear down on mortal people, it holds live people down like they’re carrying the world on their shoulders. Lemme have a cigarette.”

Bobby grins at me as pulls a cigarette from my ear and takes the lighter that’s sitting in my shirt pocket. I examine him up and down. His suit looks like it has been set on fire and ripped up by dogs. His face, full of bullet holes and torn up skin leads me to look down at his neck that has a giant gash going across it. It's like a giant smile with no teeth. His skin is hanging from his bones like loose barbecue meat with puss and slime oozing out of his holes and cuts. I look down at the giant blood stain on his shirt, it makes sense now.

"See why I had a closed casket? Those guys from the Irish mob really did a number on me. But anyway Joey, I can't undo this hell stink. Sorry, but the good news is that you can't run. Which is good because I need you to listen."

"Okay." I look down at the clock, it's still 10:36. He begins to tell me how he died. We never knew because in our old days, Joey liked make runs alone sometimes. He'd go off and come back the next week smiling with a stack or a suitcase of dough. Like me, he never had a wife or a kid, or even a serious girlfriend, so he had nothing to tie him down. One time though, he never came back. Even though Joey always ran around and did his own thing, he always came back in a week's time. Never a day late. A week and 4 days went by and we all got a little worried until a package showed up in my mailbox. It was Joey's hand. I knew it was his hand because it had his ring on it.

"Hey, my ring. Thanks for keeping it around."

Joey takes it off my frozen hand. Some slime and blood from his decomposed hand oozes onto mine and I want to throw up but I focus on his words.

"Yeah, hell is what you think it is. It's just like earth except uglier, hotter, stinkier, and all the people you hate to be around are everywhere you are. Everyday, I relive my death. I get the shit beaten out of me by these rock-like fists, my throat is slit, and my toes are cut off stuffed into my mouth. Then, these guns are pointed to my face and are blown off all at once. Then, my hand gets cut off and I'm thrown into a river in a giant duffel bag. The only problem is that I don't die after it. I never die, I just relive it everyday. Mind if I get a drink?"

While Bobby reaches into the bar to pour himself a drink I begin to ask him questions. "Why are you back Bob?" "What do you want with me?"

"Well, the bastards who did this to me are in a deeper pile of shit then I ever got myself into." Apparently, the whole Irish Mob has got a debt to pay to Hell. Their boss, McGuire sold his soul to the Devil for control of this city."

"Well, he's got that." I say firmly.

"Yeah, he does. But the bad thing is, McGuire made an extra pact to get a longer life and youth as long as he sacrifices 70 people to the devil every year. He's been coming up short for years now and the Devil is ready to collect."

"Wait. What? You mean when we were running around back in the day that we were actually warring over street turf with the Devil?"

"Yup. Here's the thing and the Devil is actually a pretty smart guy, McGuire doesn't have 50 of his own guys to sacrifice and unless he goes on a shooting spree every year, he doesn't have 50 people to sacrifice."

"So what does that have to do with us?"

"The Devil, again being kinda smart, decided to enlist me to get McGuire and bring his soul and other souls to atone for McGuire's payment down to hell. He says that I’m poetic justice or somethin. Anyways, I enlisted you."

"Why me? What did I do?"

"Nothing, but I need someone I can trust. Plus, I missed ya bro."

"What do you need with my body Bob? I didn't forget that you said that ya know."

"Oh yeah. I need to possess you."

How could he say that so calmly?! One night turns into a complete horror film and my brother is so calm and cool about everything. It shouldn't surprise me, he's always been like that. Always so in control, but an ass at the same time. "Why do you need to possess me?"

"Like I said, I need somebody I can trust. A host who won't get some voodoo witch doctor or priest to kick me out of their body. Plus, I can't run around this city looking like this. I need a human host."

"I don't want to do this. I'm not doing this Bob. You're dead! You need to stay dead!"

"You don't have a choice Joe. I have to do this. I’ve got some time to spend here on Earth and I’m gonna take advantage of it."

Gifts from the "Boss"

     Eldritch Energy: standard (rank 1)

• Ranged Attack
• Long Ranged Attack
• Area Affect
• Multi-Attack

So here I am. Here we are. Outside of a warehouse in a new black suit about to take on a 30 person mob who was at one point backed by Satan. Luckily, I'm here in my body too. Joey can control my functions, but he can't control my thoughts or my soul. I still control my soul. We're in here together and I gotta say I missed my brother and our old days. We got the best out of each other then. He was the captain and I navigated. Kinda like now. I never asked what I got out of this deal, but I got my brother at least for a little bit of time.

The wind is biting hard. It's crazy in here because I still feel and see everything in my body, but I just let Bobby steer. After he got in here, I made him promise that in this whole "soul retriving business" there would be no innocents. He said that's fine, the Devil doesn't know how to punish innocents very well anyway. Then I told him no more D-word. Out of all of this, that's the part that freaks me out the most. My brother had a one on one with....it.

"Let's go."

We run up a fire escape on the side of the building and punch the neck of a guard who was taking a piss of the side of the building. I look down and I'm in awe of our strength. This guy's neck looks so crooked after one little punch.

"That's one. About 600 or so to go.", He jokes.

Bobby's having fun.

He goes through a kills a few more guys until one of them go off the railing and alert more guys down at the bottom. The start to fire at us.

"Here's where the real fun begins Joey!"

I start to feel this burning feeling build up in me until a rush of fire comes jolting out of my mouth toward the guys down below. It looks like there are 4 little cinder piles left. Bobby starts running and I say to him, “What the hell was that Bobby?!” He says, “Our new power, the De-I mean the boss gave me a few gifts to do the job.

“So that means we can spit fire now! You gotta fill me in on some stuff here Bobby!”

“Sorry Joe, I thought you’d like that surprise.”

He thought wrong….kinda. Well, it’s cool to spit fire from your mouth, but the after taste is horrible. My breath tastes like old charcoal.

They should suffer

     Poison: standard (rank 1)

We run through a few hallways and corridors and some bullets come flying at us and I yell at Bobby to spit more fire at them but he says it’s time for the next surprise. Bobby starts laughing furiously and runs full speed at the thugs. He yells, “Prepare gentlemen!” The bullets are whizzing past us and off of us, I guess the “Boss” gave me some tough skin too.

We catch up to the thugs and their faces are the same as mine were on that night when Joey entered back into my life. Astonished, scared, mostly scared. They were frozen with fear and Bobby reaches his hands to two of their necks and with a single touch their veins turn black and they drop to the floor coughing up black blood.

“It’s poison. They’ll die in a little while but they’ll suffer up to it. It’s a bit fitting isn’t, Joe?”

“What do you mean?”

“We caused pain to others to satisfy ourselves Joe, and we have to suffer for it. These guys have killed or sold drugs or whatever. This death fits them.”

“I guess Bob. Just keep going.”

Closed Caskets

     Berserker: standard (rank 1)

We get to a lone corridor that has lights leading all the way up to a big door with two guys in front of it. Bob asks me to choose how we’ll kill them. I say without hesitation, “Spit fire.” What can I say? It was kinda cool.

Our chest puffs up and that warm feeling creeps up again. Then that beautiful beam of light comes roaring out of us and shoots down the hallway burning through the guards and the door. We run up into the room and see McGuire and his dog. The dog begins to bark his head off at us but stays in his little corner. McGuire stands up from his desks and buttons his expensive suit coat. Joe says to him, “I guess you know what this means huh.” McGuire nods and stands firm in his place. His green eyes are looking directly into ours and he looks ready for whatever Joe wasn’t. He knows what’s next for him.

Joe leaps across McGuire’s desks and lays punches into his face. After the first two or three I begin to see his skull cracking and a spew of white muscle begins to spill on the floor under gushes of blood.

“YOU HAVE A CLOSED CASKET TOO YOU SON OF A BITCH!” Joe yells suddenly at the top of his lungs.

I get the full effect of that poetic justice thing Bob was talkin about. McGuire called in Joe’s hit. He killed my brother. Joe tries to pull away but I begin to yell for him to keep going, to punch away, to bash his head clear off his shoulders. We go insane and when we pull up, our fists are drenched in blood and I say to Bob let’s

go home.

“One more thing.”, he says in a calm fury.

He walks to the dog and grabs his collar to lift the dog up in the air. I yell at him to stop. I yell as loud as I can to get Joe to stop but he doesn’t listen. He’s in some sort of trance.

“Everything about McGuire has to die.’

I keep yelling so much that it hurts. My soul is trying to get to his but he keeps blocking me out, pushing me away. I even yell things like what would mom think or what about no innocents but he just keeps saying-

“Everything about McGuire must die, slowly.”

He shoves the dog into a wall a wraps his necks around it’s neck slowly. The dog’s big, brown neck looks so small under our hands. I’m not angry anymore, at least not at McGuire. I’m just powerless. I got shoved into this thing and now I can’t do anything about my brother. Now it’s a dog, what happens if it’s a kid next time?

I say to him the only thing I can think to say before the dog loses all breath.

“While you’re hear Bob, you can at least be human. Back at your best, you would’ve never done shit like this. This isn’t you and it’s not me. If you become this, I’ll find a way to get you out do you understand? This is still my body.”

Bob’s soul freezes and my hands lose grip of the dog. The dog slips to the ground and begins to hack while walking away in the slowest, saddest walk I’ve ever seen. But at least it’s alive. I got that much out of this.

We walk away and Bob apologizes. He says I’m right and that he meant it when he said he missed me. I tell him I know. Tonight, my life is something completely new, but at least I have some control over it and at least I have my brother.