07-23-2016, 02:54 PM
As the last of the illusions serving to accentuate the Villainess’ performance faded away, the sound of clapping emerged from the haze of purplish smoke obscuring the previous position of Mysterio. “Oh, well done. You have no idea how few people fully appreciate artistry with their villainy.” The Illusionist’s form stepped out from the mists, his adonis-like body clad in the emerald scales of his suit, occasionally allowing a tendril of fog to penetrate its ethereal body, a hint at its true nature. “A beautiful performance, marred only by the unappreciating audience. You might as well be doing television, wasting such talent on this… Peanut Gallery.”
The ‘heroic’ mercenary swaggered forward, the bulk of their weapon humming ever-so-slightly, the alien technology concealed within its construction undoubtedly significantly more powerful than most earth-born technology. “Just what do you mean by that, bubble-head? I’ve blown bigger ‘bots than you to bits, so what makes you think tha-”
The Maestro of Misdirection raised a hand, ceasing the Hired Gun’s speech. “Now then, allow me to show you something.” The opaque sphere atop his torso fell away, rolling across his muscled arm before coming to a stop in his palm, a void left behind where his head should have been. A viridian hand hovered over the crystal ball, the mystic mists within dancing upon the puppetmaster’s strings. “Behold, mortal, an infinite number of dimensions and multiverses, each one different from the rest. Worlds where I became a hero, planets which you burnt to the ground. I would like to enlighten you as to one specific variable that somehow, by some twist of fate, remains constant throughout all possible permutations of reality.”
A snap of his fingers turned the sphere sable, its surface blackening as it became as empty as the Mercenary’s skull.
“Behold, sir Mar, every single dimension in which anyone gives a damn about you.”
He allowed the orb to fall to the earth, soundlessly shattering as its disparate pieces faded into mist, a fresh sphere rising from between his shoulders.
“The number one rule of this grand Gag, Mar, is to always make an entrance. It matters not if it’s a single rube, or a city full of grovelling minions. Without theatricality, you’re nothing more than a heavily armed thug with delusions of grandeur.”
Mysterio turned, the regal purple cloth of his cloak fluttering in the wind that seemingly only he could experience.
“And if this sorry excuse for a welcome party is any indication of the rest of this new realm, then I daresay the lovely La-Lord Dominator and myself have a lot to teach you all about what it’s like to steal more than just the show. Don’t get me wrong, you could use a lot of help on that front as well, but as entertaining as it is to see you crawl, I think some baby steps are in order.”
A long cane flew from his bracer, softly impacting on the blank surface of the Nexus.
“Let me show you how it’s done, Mar.” An oddly appropriate name, given whatever cataclysm had been centered on his unfortunate face.
“Any dolt with half a brain, can see that it’s no fun being sane.”
The walking stick was brought downwards, stopping just short of the mercenary’s skull, eliciting a flinch from the abhuman. Might be a bit too much grey matter to ask, in their case.
“There’s a beauty in sowing woe, take heed, oh unworthy foe, this gig’s about far more than merely causing pain.”
A puff of smoke heralded his disappearance, shortly before choking tendrils of violet smoke brought him nearer to the mercenary, pressing a hand to his bubble-helmed head as he neared Jak’s cranium.
“Listen close to this foolish upstart, and hear that lack of sound.”
A frenzy of infuriated slaps forced the Illusion away, the Hired Gun’s hand at one point passing effortlessly through the empty air where his corporeal form should have been.
A crack of thunder announced him as he reformed once more, a billowing cape streaked with lightning serving as the coupe de grace as he towered behind the alien, dark stormclouds obscuring his now-gigantic frame, unlimited power flowing freely from hands easily as large as a man’s torso.
“Hopes and dreams are shattering apart, and falling to the ground.” Framed pictures began to fall from his hands, every single precious memory splintering into a thousand pieces as it landed, the aspirations within dashed. An actor denied his time in the spotlight, forever doomed to don the obscuration of a stuntman, remaining in obfuscation whilst an insufferable half-rate thespian received acclamation.
“And yet you all believe your eyes, despite how the world’s full of filth and lies”
The titanic figure vanished, tendrils of mist vanishing and parting as the illusion ended. The noticeably slimmer true Mysterio stepped through his giant’s former position, smoke swirling around his helmet in a circular, hypnotic motion.
“But isn’t it plain to see, that Evil’s indisputably on the rise?”
“I don’t th-” stammered the Sellsword, who was starting to become moderately discomforted by the sheer quantity of impromptu performances.
“Anyone with half a brain, would flee during the refrain! For these villains are everywhere, but they just don’t seem to care.”
He pried open the fingers of his left hand, revealing the grinning visage of Omni, their mutual captor. Cracks began to run across its porcelain surface, violent violet light shining from within as it began to crumble, the dilettante demiurge falling to pieces as the Maestro of Mayhem envisioned Deicide.
“And soon, for lack of competition, we will be all that remains.”
The ‘heroic’ mercenary swaggered forward, the bulk of their weapon humming ever-so-slightly, the alien technology concealed within its construction undoubtedly significantly more powerful than most earth-born technology. “Just what do you mean by that, bubble-head? I’ve blown bigger ‘bots than you to bits, so what makes you think tha-”
The Maestro of Misdirection raised a hand, ceasing the Hired Gun’s speech. “Now then, allow me to show you something.” The opaque sphere atop his torso fell away, rolling across his muscled arm before coming to a stop in his palm, a void left behind where his head should have been. A viridian hand hovered over the crystal ball, the mystic mists within dancing upon the puppetmaster’s strings. “Behold, mortal, an infinite number of dimensions and multiverses, each one different from the rest. Worlds where I became a hero, planets which you burnt to the ground. I would like to enlighten you as to one specific variable that somehow, by some twist of fate, remains constant throughout all possible permutations of reality.”
A snap of his fingers turned the sphere sable, its surface blackening as it became as empty as the Mercenary’s skull.
“Behold, sir Mar, every single dimension in which anyone gives a damn about you.”
He allowed the orb to fall to the earth, soundlessly shattering as its disparate pieces faded into mist, a fresh sphere rising from between his shoulders.
“The number one rule of this grand Gag, Mar, is to always make an entrance. It matters not if it’s a single rube, or a city full of grovelling minions. Without theatricality, you’re nothing more than a heavily armed thug with delusions of grandeur.”
Mysterio turned, the regal purple cloth of his cloak fluttering in the wind that seemingly only he could experience.
“And if this sorry excuse for a welcome party is any indication of the rest of this new realm, then I daresay the lovely La-Lord Dominator and myself have a lot to teach you all about what it’s like to steal more than just the show. Don’t get me wrong, you could use a lot of help on that front as well, but as entertaining as it is to see you crawl, I think some baby steps are in order.”
A long cane flew from his bracer, softly impacting on the blank surface of the Nexus.
“Let me show you how it’s done, Mar.” An oddly appropriate name, given whatever cataclysm had been centered on his unfortunate face.
Quote:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EQyNN2SfPwQ
“Any dolt with half a brain, can see that it’s no fun being sane.”
The walking stick was brought downwards, stopping just short of the mercenary’s skull, eliciting a flinch from the abhuman. Might be a bit too much grey matter to ask, in their case.
“There’s a beauty in sowing woe, take heed, oh unworthy foe, this gig’s about far more than merely causing pain.”
A puff of smoke heralded his disappearance, shortly before choking tendrils of violet smoke brought him nearer to the mercenary, pressing a hand to his bubble-helmed head as he neared Jak’s cranium.
“Listen close to this foolish upstart, and hear that lack of sound.”
A frenzy of infuriated slaps forced the Illusion away, the Hired Gun’s hand at one point passing effortlessly through the empty air where his corporeal form should have been.
A crack of thunder announced him as he reformed once more, a billowing cape streaked with lightning serving as the coupe de grace as he towered behind the alien, dark stormclouds obscuring his now-gigantic frame, unlimited power flowing freely from hands easily as large as a man’s torso.
“Hopes and dreams are shattering apart, and falling to the ground.” Framed pictures began to fall from his hands, every single precious memory splintering into a thousand pieces as it landed, the aspirations within dashed. An actor denied his time in the spotlight, forever doomed to don the obscuration of a stuntman, remaining in obfuscation whilst an insufferable half-rate thespian received acclamation.
“And yet you all believe your eyes, despite how the world’s full of filth and lies”
The titanic figure vanished, tendrils of mist vanishing and parting as the illusion ended. The noticeably slimmer true Mysterio stepped through his giant’s former position, smoke swirling around his helmet in a circular, hypnotic motion.
“But isn’t it plain to see, that Evil’s indisputably on the rise?”
“I don’t th-” stammered the Sellsword, who was starting to become moderately discomforted by the sheer quantity of impromptu performances.
“Anyone with half a brain, would flee during the refrain! For these villains are everywhere, but they just don’t seem to care.”
He pried open the fingers of his left hand, revealing the grinning visage of Omni, their mutual captor. Cracks began to run across its porcelain surface, violent violet light shining from within as it began to crumble, the dilettante demiurge falling to pieces as the Maestro of Mayhem envisioned Deicide.
“And soon, for lack of competition, we will be all that remains.”
Torcher of tomes, slayer of sorcerers, taker of ears, and flayer of men. Reasonable rates.