Joseph dives in at the masked man, poised to tackle him to the ground. The mask man readies his machete to cut the hero down mid fight but he is caught off guard the lengthening inky appendages lurching from his foes back. The dive was a ruse, used to throw him off so that the tendrils could catch him by surprise. One wraps around the wrist holding the machete and another around his throat before he is swiftly thrown across the burning warehouse.
”Run! Now!”
Joseph screams at the group of people who were shell shocked by his arrival and ability to throw what they thought to be an unstoppable force. They are put into not a state of calm but unease because nothing about Joseph seems like a hero, in terms of appearance. Using the tendrils to carry himself across and into the inferno seemed so surreal and so alien. The group watches him as he looks for the masked murderer only to have a machete thrown into his shoulder followed by the masked man to leap up out of the fire and tackle Joseph down from his lifted position.
The mask man is mounted on top of him and strikes him in the face over and over with both fists, wanting to cave his head into the ground and it's not like the would-be hero is not feeling the blows. The force of the strikes are getting to him, enough to enter fight or flight and he chooses to fight.
A heavy handed right hook sends the masked man flying off of him. Before the masked man could regain his footing Joseph is upon him again with a flurry of blows. He isn’t some trained super agent nor does he have a background in hand to hand combat, these strikes are wild and uncontrolled, pure rage and hate fueling them. In this frenzy he makes masterful use of his extra limbs, neutralizing the mobility of the masked man's arms and legs. He is reduced to Joseph’s punching bag as he is struck again and again until going limp. Blood drips from the hero’s fists and then he tosses the limp body into the blaze.
The group of people had not listened to him, they were still standing there watching him. He pulls the machete out of his shoulder and while his costume may have closed up, underneath it the wound is still very much open already in the process of healing but it will be a few days before it is back to 100%.
”I thought I told you people to-”
”Behind you!!!!”
Joseph turns just in time to see a flaming stick of wood striking him in the midsection and sending him flying off to the side and crashing into a metal pillar. He stands up before the masked man can take advantage of his groggy state and they lock hands, a test of strength. Joseph’s eyes widen as he peers into the dark eye holes of the mask.
”Let me see your mind! Let me- What the!”
Joseph kicks him full force in the stomach and uses his crumbling form to toss him away to create some distance. Joseph tried to target his mind, to take his sanity but when he looked the mind was gone, nothing there. Not an ounce of activity going on and usually this could be taken as an insult but right now it means he is fighting a dead man… A dead man who is rising back to his feet once again.
He throws a chain that whips around the hero’s neck and with supernatural strength reels him into a lariat that sends him flipping into a long destroyed conveyor belt. On the ground, upside down, he tries to regain his bearings as the masked man charges in with a fist wrapped in chains. His extra limbs launch him up into the black smoke and moments later a portion of the ceiling comes falling down on his assailant. He returns to the ground, sounding winded and bewildered.
”Why wont you die?!”
He asks as he sees the flaming rubble rising up and what rises from it is a phoenix made of burning flesh and cloth. He begins charging towards Joseph who readies himself for another clash but he isn’t sure how much more of this fighting he can take. He’s feeling the effects of all the heavy hits he has received from this monster and if it keeps up there is a good chance he’ll be beaten to death. Moments before the clash he hears the horn of a forklift, the sound is unmistakable for him due to his line of work.
He launches himself upwards which makes the masked man look up, unaware of a charging forklift with blades raised. By the time he notices he is impaled and sent back into flames, the driver was the same male who had shouted at Joseph earlier to look out. He makes sure the accelerator is stuck and hops off of it. Joseph lands on the ground, grabbing him by the back of his neck and scooping up the others with his tendrils as they leap out of the building before that forklift explodes from all the fire heating up its propane tank.
The people are coughing but Joseph isn’t coughing at all, he is trying to catch his breath and assess his injuries. Multiple broken ribs, internal bleeding which is an assumption but he’s sure it's happening. Fracture on his skull along with micro fractures in his arms and legs. He is unaware of his accelerated healing, accelerated in the sense that if he rests and takes it easy for a few days his body will be back to 100%.
”Yo, hero, you saved our asses man. That guy killed like three of our buddies and-”
Joseph grabs him by his collar and lifts him into the air.
”I told you to leave! To run! Why are you still here trying to throw your life away?! I’m trying to save you!”
The 20 something year old jock gags as he is being choked by the collar of his shirt.
”I… I wanted to help.. And we… We got 'em right?!”
His friends scream for Joseph to put him down and he just drops him on the ground. The guy scrambles to his feet, running back to his friends as Joseph takes a deep breath as he feels himself about to lose it.
”Go home, now. I won’t-”
Something rips through the flames inside and makes itself known outside by wrapping around Joseph multiple times, a thick chain. It pulls him back towards the building and using his tendrils and natural limbs he stops himself at the door, momentarily.
”Run now! Or else I’ll kill you myself!!”
With that he gives up resistance and allows himself to be pulled back into this kiln of a building. The heat and fire do not harm him thanks to a magical barrier that has been protecting him from projectiles, well the ones he can anticipate. He is unaware of it and is unaware of the magical origins of his own powers. But right now he has gone into a berserker frenzy. Injured and frustrated he is sick of fighting and wants to end it.
”AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHGGGG!!!”
A sanity shattering scream that doesn’t even sound human erupts from his frame as he collides with the monster in human skin. A tendril wraps around one of its arms, pulling it off at the elbow while Joseph strikes him in the head over and over until a portion of it caves in. The masked man drops to a knee but is lifted back up only for a crazed Joseph to tear into his stomach with his bare hands. His sanity has slipped due to anger and the full might of his Eldritch strength is on display. It will be quite some time before Joseph will be able to do this to another being again but for the moment it is serving its purpose.
A whistling sound catches his ear and before he could look in its direction a massive explosion erupts. The hero is sent flying through the building and into the wall of another nearby warehouse. His frenzied state allows him to bounce back to his feet but his very real pain makes him drop to a knee. Through the billowing smoke that rises in the aftermath of the explosion he could see the masked man standing once again, grabbing his arm and reattaching it like nothing ever happened. It stares at him and they both hear sirens in the distance, the two retreat from the area, going in separate directions. Joseph knows in his heart, mind and bones that he would have lost if that fight continued past that point. He retreats home where he remains…
Defaced: 1
Occultist: 0
Two days later police are allowed to investigate the site of the warehouse fire, one detective in particular has a vested interest in it. Detective Michaelson, full name Derek Michaelson, caucasian, well kept combed back hair along with a well trimmed mustache. Standing at 5’9” he has the build of a man who keeps himself in shape, in the world of catching criminals one can never slack on physical fitness. He looks around at various objects, like the forklift, a dented conveyor belt and a segment of chain with multiple warped links. He pokes at the chains with a pen, then rubs his chin for a moment.
”So what do you make of it, detective?”
”Something happened to these chains before the explosion. Look, see how multiple links are warped almost like something was gripping them with incredible strength.”
He looks up at the officer, raising his eyebrows a bit which makes his forehead wrinkle slightly, almost like he is trying to relax his face after staring for so long and frowning.
”These are half inch galvanized steel chains. These bad boys have been heat treated and can lift over 9000 pounds of metal. That's what the company usually rates them for they can probably handle ten thousand pounds but they have to have the buffer for error.”
”Uhh, okay, how do you know that and what does that have to do with how they are bent.”
”Dad was an iron worker and the heat of this place during the fire and the explosion didn’t bend those chains like that. Someone or something else did.”
Michaelson rises up and puts his pen away before dusting himself off a bit.
”You thinking Outliers?”
”Right now? A little bit but this is the third odd occurrence within the week and I’ve seen some shit recently that has me thinking that it ain’t Outlier related. I gotta go write down what I’ve seen here, you boys do what you do best.”
He pats the officer on the shoulder and walks off to his car, pulling out his phone and scrolling through his contact list. A few touches of the screen and he places a phone call. By the time he gets to his car someone picks up and he begins talking to them as he opens his car door.
”Yo, I’m going to need you to pull some files for me. Some old stuff probably. Anything that seems culty or just odd, nothing Outlier related.”
As he is speaking he is putting on his seatbelt and starting up the car. After checking mirrors and blind spots he backs up and drives off from the site. This Detective was the one who investigated the sight of a freak fire that started in the basement of an industrial building some days ago. When he arrived he was told there were pews piled up at the door, multiple people just laying on the floor, dead of course. Gas canisters laid on the floor, badly burnt but even a rookie officer could make out what they used to be. While the damage was extensive the strange symbology on the walls and floor remained, mainly because they were carved into them. Everyone quickly wrote it off as a cult pact suicide but the detective wasn’t buying it.
Hexington has always been strange, many people dabbling in the occult in shadows. They are usually quiet about it, keeping to themselves and keeping their secrets to themselves as well. But all of a sudden things have gotten quite loud in the city. The upper echelon of elites tend to knock down any noise makers, it's why Outliers are scarce in the city, be they hero or villain, no one is allowed to make a power play without their say so. But someone has been making noise, starting with this first fire, three thugs who work for Jon Marceles show up at an asylum as catatonic messes, non verbal, just living husks of meat at this point. Then this explosive situation happened a few days ago. Someone new who doesn’t play by the city's rules has arrived and Detective Michaelson needs to find out what ties he may have.
He arrives at the station, grabbing his own folder sitting in his passenger seat as he heads inside the HCPD. He waves and says hello to people here and there as he makes his way to the evidence room where he had a couple of boxes of old evidence pulled out. They are mostly cold or closed cases of things ranging from cult-like activity to bizarre and unexplained. He pours over the files, looking mostly for symbology and the like. That strange abstract “A” symbol carved in that basement pops up more times than he would like, photos of certain men standing beside it are seen, dating back to the thirties.
He takes pictures with his phone to do a reverse image search and he pulls up some old families of Hexington, most of them bumping elbows with the Howardsons. He sits silently, looking at how these cold cases are all connected by some sort of spooky cult, the “A” cult as he is calling it for now. He flips through a few more pictures and spots a new symbol, the same alien configuration that makes little sense but the shape of a C can be seen amongst the mess of symbols.
”And this was pulled up from the water?”
He comments on the evidence picture as the giant stone symbol is on a boat full of horribly brutalized human bodies. Dismantled and destroyed in a way that only a machine could do. This took place long before the explosion of Panacea so the detective has to wonder just what the elites of this city really know to keep such a choke hold on it and who this new player is making waves and noise. He puts the evidence away, and as he is doing it he stops for a moment to place a call, putting it on speaker. A man answers the phone, saying hello and right after that Michaelson chimes in.
”Let's do dinner, in about two hours. We need to chit chat for a bit. It’ll be my treat and we can hit up that steak place you like so much.”
Elsewhere in the city Joseph is amazed that he has recovered so soon. Just a few days ago he had to rely on his new limbs to carry him home but now he is back to full strength. He was in the bathroom looking at himself, looking for any signs of scarring but none could be found. He places his hands on the sink and looks down into it. He can’t get the masked man off his mind, he was more than anything he could have imagined. Instant recovery the moment he took his eyes off of him, absurd strength that seemed to climb and keep up with his own. He knows he’ll have to come up with a surefire way to kill him next time…
Kill him, Joseph has never had that thought cross his mind ever. To resign to killing someone so easily, but it's okay, right? Because it's a monster? That's what he thinks, trying to cope with what he has to do by twisting it and not accepting the fact that he is becoming more monster than human, physically and mentally. He has to be careful as he walks a fine line between sanity and insanity. If he slips too much into insanity he’ll become nothing more than a monster that will flay the minds and bodies of any sentient being that gets too close to him.
He has to focus, he has to be better than that, better than monsters. Sometimes people, humans, must die for the betterment of everyone. But does he have what it takes to be judge, jury, and executioner? Only time will tell as there are more tests and lessons ahead of him as the Avatar of Azathoth. He’ll need to start asking questions soon because there are other deities in this Eldritch pantheon and they too have their own Avatar’s…
*Next Issue: Enter Fathom!*
”Run! Now!”
Joseph screams at the group of people who were shell shocked by his arrival and ability to throw what they thought to be an unstoppable force. They are put into not a state of calm but unease because nothing about Joseph seems like a hero, in terms of appearance. Using the tendrils to carry himself across and into the inferno seemed so surreal and so alien. The group watches him as he looks for the masked murderer only to have a machete thrown into his shoulder followed by the masked man to leap up out of the fire and tackle Joseph down from his lifted position.
The mask man is mounted on top of him and strikes him in the face over and over with both fists, wanting to cave his head into the ground and it's not like the would-be hero is not feeling the blows. The force of the strikes are getting to him, enough to enter fight or flight and he chooses to fight.
A heavy handed right hook sends the masked man flying off of him. Before the masked man could regain his footing Joseph is upon him again with a flurry of blows. He isn’t some trained super agent nor does he have a background in hand to hand combat, these strikes are wild and uncontrolled, pure rage and hate fueling them. In this frenzy he makes masterful use of his extra limbs, neutralizing the mobility of the masked man's arms and legs. He is reduced to Joseph’s punching bag as he is struck again and again until going limp. Blood drips from the hero’s fists and then he tosses the limp body into the blaze.
The group of people had not listened to him, they were still standing there watching him. He pulls the machete out of his shoulder and while his costume may have closed up, underneath it the wound is still very much open already in the process of healing but it will be a few days before it is back to 100%.
”I thought I told you people to-”
”Behind you!!!!”
Joseph turns just in time to see a flaming stick of wood striking him in the midsection and sending him flying off to the side and crashing into a metal pillar. He stands up before the masked man can take advantage of his groggy state and they lock hands, a test of strength. Joseph’s eyes widen as he peers into the dark eye holes of the mask.
”Let me see your mind! Let me- What the!”
Joseph kicks him full force in the stomach and uses his crumbling form to toss him away to create some distance. Joseph tried to target his mind, to take his sanity but when he looked the mind was gone, nothing there. Not an ounce of activity going on and usually this could be taken as an insult but right now it means he is fighting a dead man… A dead man who is rising back to his feet once again.
He throws a chain that whips around the hero’s neck and with supernatural strength reels him into a lariat that sends him flipping into a long destroyed conveyor belt. On the ground, upside down, he tries to regain his bearings as the masked man charges in with a fist wrapped in chains. His extra limbs launch him up into the black smoke and moments later a portion of the ceiling comes falling down on his assailant. He returns to the ground, sounding winded and bewildered.
”Why wont you die?!”
He asks as he sees the flaming rubble rising up and what rises from it is a phoenix made of burning flesh and cloth. He begins charging towards Joseph who readies himself for another clash but he isn’t sure how much more of this fighting he can take. He’s feeling the effects of all the heavy hits he has received from this monster and if it keeps up there is a good chance he’ll be beaten to death. Moments before the clash he hears the horn of a forklift, the sound is unmistakable for him due to his line of work.
He launches himself upwards which makes the masked man look up, unaware of a charging forklift with blades raised. By the time he notices he is impaled and sent back into flames, the driver was the same male who had shouted at Joseph earlier to look out. He makes sure the accelerator is stuck and hops off of it. Joseph lands on the ground, grabbing him by the back of his neck and scooping up the others with his tendrils as they leap out of the building before that forklift explodes from all the fire heating up its propane tank.
The people are coughing but Joseph isn’t coughing at all, he is trying to catch his breath and assess his injuries. Multiple broken ribs, internal bleeding which is an assumption but he’s sure it's happening. Fracture on his skull along with micro fractures in his arms and legs. He is unaware of his accelerated healing, accelerated in the sense that if he rests and takes it easy for a few days his body will be back to 100%.
”Yo, hero, you saved our asses man. That guy killed like three of our buddies and-”
Joseph grabs him by his collar and lifts him into the air.
”I told you to leave! To run! Why are you still here trying to throw your life away?! I’m trying to save you!”
The 20 something year old jock gags as he is being choked by the collar of his shirt.
”I… I wanted to help.. And we… We got 'em right?!”
His friends scream for Joseph to put him down and he just drops him on the ground. The guy scrambles to his feet, running back to his friends as Joseph takes a deep breath as he feels himself about to lose it.
”Go home, now. I won’t-”
Something rips through the flames inside and makes itself known outside by wrapping around Joseph multiple times, a thick chain. It pulls him back towards the building and using his tendrils and natural limbs he stops himself at the door, momentarily.
”Run now! Or else I’ll kill you myself!!”
With that he gives up resistance and allows himself to be pulled back into this kiln of a building. The heat and fire do not harm him thanks to a magical barrier that has been protecting him from projectiles, well the ones he can anticipate. He is unaware of it and is unaware of the magical origins of his own powers. But right now he has gone into a berserker frenzy. Injured and frustrated he is sick of fighting and wants to end it.
”AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHGGGG!!!”
A sanity shattering scream that doesn’t even sound human erupts from his frame as he collides with the monster in human skin. A tendril wraps around one of its arms, pulling it off at the elbow while Joseph strikes him in the head over and over until a portion of it caves in. The masked man drops to a knee but is lifted back up only for a crazed Joseph to tear into his stomach with his bare hands. His sanity has slipped due to anger and the full might of his Eldritch strength is on display. It will be quite some time before Joseph will be able to do this to another being again but for the moment it is serving its purpose.
A whistling sound catches his ear and before he could look in its direction a massive explosion erupts. The hero is sent flying through the building and into the wall of another nearby warehouse. His frenzied state allows him to bounce back to his feet but his very real pain makes him drop to a knee. Through the billowing smoke that rises in the aftermath of the explosion he could see the masked man standing once again, grabbing his arm and reattaching it like nothing ever happened. It stares at him and they both hear sirens in the distance, the two retreat from the area, going in separate directions. Joseph knows in his heart, mind and bones that he would have lost if that fight continued past that point. He retreats home where he remains…
Defaced: 1
Occultist: 0
Two days later police are allowed to investigate the site of the warehouse fire, one detective in particular has a vested interest in it. Detective Michaelson, full name Derek Michaelson, caucasian, well kept combed back hair along with a well trimmed mustache. Standing at 5’9” he has the build of a man who keeps himself in shape, in the world of catching criminals one can never slack on physical fitness. He looks around at various objects, like the forklift, a dented conveyor belt and a segment of chain with multiple warped links. He pokes at the chains with a pen, then rubs his chin for a moment.
”So what do you make of it, detective?”
”Something happened to these chains before the explosion. Look, see how multiple links are warped almost like something was gripping them with incredible strength.”
He looks up at the officer, raising his eyebrows a bit which makes his forehead wrinkle slightly, almost like he is trying to relax his face after staring for so long and frowning.
”These are half inch galvanized steel chains. These bad boys have been heat treated and can lift over 9000 pounds of metal. That's what the company usually rates them for they can probably handle ten thousand pounds but they have to have the buffer for error.”
”Uhh, okay, how do you know that and what does that have to do with how they are bent.”
”Dad was an iron worker and the heat of this place during the fire and the explosion didn’t bend those chains like that. Someone or something else did.”
Michaelson rises up and puts his pen away before dusting himself off a bit.
”You thinking Outliers?”
”Right now? A little bit but this is the third odd occurrence within the week and I’ve seen some shit recently that has me thinking that it ain’t Outlier related. I gotta go write down what I’ve seen here, you boys do what you do best.”
He pats the officer on the shoulder and walks off to his car, pulling out his phone and scrolling through his contact list. A few touches of the screen and he places a phone call. By the time he gets to his car someone picks up and he begins talking to them as he opens his car door.
”Yo, I’m going to need you to pull some files for me. Some old stuff probably. Anything that seems culty or just odd, nothing Outlier related.”
As he is speaking he is putting on his seatbelt and starting up the car. After checking mirrors and blind spots he backs up and drives off from the site. This Detective was the one who investigated the sight of a freak fire that started in the basement of an industrial building some days ago. When he arrived he was told there were pews piled up at the door, multiple people just laying on the floor, dead of course. Gas canisters laid on the floor, badly burnt but even a rookie officer could make out what they used to be. While the damage was extensive the strange symbology on the walls and floor remained, mainly because they were carved into them. Everyone quickly wrote it off as a cult pact suicide but the detective wasn’t buying it.
Hexington has always been strange, many people dabbling in the occult in shadows. They are usually quiet about it, keeping to themselves and keeping their secrets to themselves as well. But all of a sudden things have gotten quite loud in the city. The upper echelon of elites tend to knock down any noise makers, it's why Outliers are scarce in the city, be they hero or villain, no one is allowed to make a power play without their say so. But someone has been making noise, starting with this first fire, three thugs who work for Jon Marceles show up at an asylum as catatonic messes, non verbal, just living husks of meat at this point. Then this explosive situation happened a few days ago. Someone new who doesn’t play by the city's rules has arrived and Detective Michaelson needs to find out what ties he may have.
He arrives at the station, grabbing his own folder sitting in his passenger seat as he heads inside the HCPD. He waves and says hello to people here and there as he makes his way to the evidence room where he had a couple of boxes of old evidence pulled out. They are mostly cold or closed cases of things ranging from cult-like activity to bizarre and unexplained. He pours over the files, looking mostly for symbology and the like. That strange abstract “A” symbol carved in that basement pops up more times than he would like, photos of certain men standing beside it are seen, dating back to the thirties.
He takes pictures with his phone to do a reverse image search and he pulls up some old families of Hexington, most of them bumping elbows with the Howardsons. He sits silently, looking at how these cold cases are all connected by some sort of spooky cult, the “A” cult as he is calling it for now. He flips through a few more pictures and spots a new symbol, the same alien configuration that makes little sense but the shape of a C can be seen amongst the mess of symbols.
”And this was pulled up from the water?”
He comments on the evidence picture as the giant stone symbol is on a boat full of horribly brutalized human bodies. Dismantled and destroyed in a way that only a machine could do. This took place long before the explosion of Panacea so the detective has to wonder just what the elites of this city really know to keep such a choke hold on it and who this new player is making waves and noise. He puts the evidence away, and as he is doing it he stops for a moment to place a call, putting it on speaker. A man answers the phone, saying hello and right after that Michaelson chimes in.
”Let's do dinner, in about two hours. We need to chit chat for a bit. It’ll be my treat and we can hit up that steak place you like so much.”
Elsewhere in the city Joseph is amazed that he has recovered so soon. Just a few days ago he had to rely on his new limbs to carry him home but now he is back to full strength. He was in the bathroom looking at himself, looking for any signs of scarring but none could be found. He places his hands on the sink and looks down into it. He can’t get the masked man off his mind, he was more than anything he could have imagined. Instant recovery the moment he took his eyes off of him, absurd strength that seemed to climb and keep up with his own. He knows he’ll have to come up with a surefire way to kill him next time…
Kill him, Joseph has never had that thought cross his mind ever. To resign to killing someone so easily, but it's okay, right? Because it's a monster? That's what he thinks, trying to cope with what he has to do by twisting it and not accepting the fact that he is becoming more monster than human, physically and mentally. He has to be careful as he walks a fine line between sanity and insanity. If he slips too much into insanity he’ll become nothing more than a monster that will flay the minds and bodies of any sentient being that gets too close to him.
He has to focus, he has to be better than that, better than monsters. Sometimes people, humans, must die for the betterment of everyone. But does he have what it takes to be judge, jury, and executioner? Only time will tell as there are more tests and lessons ahead of him as the Avatar of Azathoth. He’ll need to start asking questions soon because there are other deities in this Eldritch pantheon and they too have their own Avatar’s…
*Next Issue: Enter Fathom!*