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"VILLAINOUS: menacing marvel minions" - Issue #0
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<blockquote data-quote="Hand of Vecna" data-source="post: 1747287" data-attributes="member: 755"><p><strong>CODENAME</strong>: Madcap</p><p><strong>AKA</strong>: Unknown</p><p><strong>MISSION</strong>: Show people that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Or is bought by judgment. Or is momentary. Or… something.</p><p><strong>TACTICS</strong>: An appointment was made a week in advance, under the name "Mr. John Smith." Stroll in, driving people in the waiting room mad as he does so, then sit down with the doctor. Afterwards, show newcomers the perils of plastic surgery, with up-close demonstrations.</p><p><strong>LOCATION</strong>: The office of Dr. Fredric J. Cohen in Manhattan.</p><p><strong>as we join the scene…</strong> </p><p></p><p>“So, <em>Mr. Smith</em>,” the balding doctor in the well-appointed office said, “tell me what you don’t like about yourself.” Dr. Cohen was a well-respected plastic surgeon, one of the best in New York, with offices in the Bronx and Manhattan; he never lacked for work. The man he spoke to seemed to be somewhere in his mid-30’s, half the age of the surgeon, and wore a baggy gray jogging suit and sunglass.</p><p></p><p>“Well, Doc, it’s <em>my eyes</em>...” the man said, removing his sunglasses. As Dr. Cohen bent in closer to look, the doctor suddenly felt very light-headed, and as care-free as he did in his youth. As smile crawled across his face as he knocked over the pen holder from his desk and began playing Kick-the-Can, giggling gleefully as he did. “Hrm, I guess you’ll be of no help, either. <em>Oh, well</em>. Let’s go see how the <em>others</em> in the <em>waiting room</em> are doing, shall we?" 'Mr. Smith' jumped out of his chair and tunred to exit the office, then stopped and turned back to the doctor. "Ah, mustn‘t forget the <em>visual aids</em>, though....” ‘Mr. Smith’ wandered through some random rooms, gathering random surgical tools in a metal tray, then walked back into the plush waiting room.</p><p></p><p>The comely brunette receptionist was busy coloring scenes of unicorns and faeries in the appointment book with various pens and highlighters, while a slim rail of a man who’d come in for pec implants was singing to the potted ferns. An elderly couple, who looked like they'd just stepped out of a Norman Rockell painting and into the office, seemed quite shocked at the scene.</p><p></p><p>“Wh-what’s going on here?!” the elderly man demanded. “We’ve come here for our facelifts, and -- “</p><p></p><p>“<em>Facelifts</em>, you say?” 'Mr. Smith' interjected. “How <em>fabulous</em>! We can do them <em>right here</em> in the waiting room -- for <em>your</em> convenience!!! First, though, I’ll need to <em>change</em> into my <em>operating gown</em>...”</p><p></p><p>The elderly couple watched as ‘Mr. Smith’ used a surgical scalpel to cut off his gray jogging suit, revealing the gaudy yellow-and-purple harlequin costume underneath. “Let's go, Harold, he’s obviously <em>mad</em>!” the woman whispered to her husband.</p><p></p><p>“Mad<em>cap</em>, lady, but, for now, <em>Dr. Madcap</em> will be more appropriate. So, you say you’re both in for a facelift, eh? Anniversary gift to one another, eh? How sweet....” Madcap fluttered his eyelids as he raised the scalpel to his own face. “Here, allow me to <em>show you</em> what’ll be happening, so that you’ll know what you’re getting in to. First, they <em>slice</em> into your <em>face</em>....” Madcap explained as he ran the scalpel blade across his forehead, cutting all the way down to the bone, “and then they <em>pull</em> your face up to smooth out the wrinkles!” Madcap dropped the bloodied scalpel and grasped the ragged edge of his face and pulled up and back, tightening his face into a grimace. “Of course, if they’re not <em>careful</em>,” Madcap suddenly jerked away and down, literally tearing his own face off, revealing bloody muscle underneath, “<em>accidents</em> can happen....”</p><p></p><p>The elderly couple had turned mostly away as Madcap worked, thus avoiding the effects of his gaze, but they did see enough to turn their stomachs.</p><p></p><p>“Fortunately, medical science is such that your <em>new face</em> will be better than the old!” Madcap’s head had already completely regenerated, but his old face stuck to the wall where he’d tossed it. “Now, perhaps a facelift isn’t what you <em>really</em> want… perhaps a <em>tummy-tuck</em>?” Madcap lifted up part of his costume and began running the scalpel across his belly. “Those are quite simple -- all they do is <em>slice</em>... into... your... <em>side</em>... and <em>scoop out</em>...” Madcap dropped the blade and picked up a wide, flat instrument and began scooping out his insides, “the <em>fatty deposits</em>… oh, wait… that’s my <em>liver</em>... or is that a <em>spleen</em>? I can never <em>tell</em>... anyway, after they do that, they slice off a bit of the tummy, <em>fry</em> it up a <em>bacon</em>, <em>staple</em> you up, and serve ya <em>breakfast</em> the next day!” Madcap tossed the slice of his stomach into the office’s fish tank, and his regenerative abilities were already expelling the first stomach staple as he put in the fifth.</p><p></p><p>Suddenly, Madcap became dimly aware of a still presence in the office. “Ah, another customer to <em>Dr. Madcap’s Plastic Surgery!</em> Tell me what you don’t like about yourself..." Turning, his gaze fell upon....</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Hand of Vecna, post: 1747287, member: 755"] [b]CODENAME[/b]: Madcap [b]AKA[/b]: Unknown [b]MISSION[/b]: Show people that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Or is bought by judgment. Or is momentary. Or… something. [b]TACTICS[/b]: An appointment was made a week in advance, under the name "Mr. John Smith." Stroll in, driving people in the waiting room mad as he does so, then sit down with the doctor. Afterwards, show newcomers the perils of plastic surgery, with up-close demonstrations. [b]LOCATION[/b]: The office of Dr. Fredric J. Cohen in Manhattan. [b]as we join the scene…[/b] “So, [I]Mr. Smith[/I],” the balding doctor in the well-appointed office said, “tell me what you don’t like about yourself.” Dr. Cohen was a well-respected plastic surgeon, one of the best in New York, with offices in the Bronx and Manhattan; he never lacked for work. The man he spoke to seemed to be somewhere in his mid-30’s, half the age of the surgeon, and wore a baggy gray jogging suit and sunglass. “Well, Doc, it’s [i]my eyes[/i]...” the man said, removing his sunglasses. As Dr. Cohen bent in closer to look, the doctor suddenly felt very light-headed, and as care-free as he did in his youth. As smile crawled across his face as he knocked over the pen holder from his desk and began playing Kick-the-Can, giggling gleefully as he did. “Hrm, I guess you’ll be of no help, either. [I]Oh, well[/I]. Let’s go see how the [I]others[/I] in the [I]waiting room[/I] are doing, shall we?" 'Mr. Smith' jumped out of his chair and tunred to exit the office, then stopped and turned back to the doctor. "Ah, mustn‘t forget the [I]visual aids[/I], though....” ‘Mr. Smith’ wandered through some random rooms, gathering random surgical tools in a metal tray, then walked back into the plush waiting room. The comely brunette receptionist was busy coloring scenes of unicorns and faeries in the appointment book with various pens and highlighters, while a slim rail of a man who’d come in for pec implants was singing to the potted ferns. An elderly couple, who looked like they'd just stepped out of a Norman Rockell painting and into the office, seemed quite shocked at the scene. “Wh-what’s going on here?!” the elderly man demanded. “We’ve come here for our facelifts, and -- “ “[i]Facelifts[/i], you say?” 'Mr. Smith' interjected. “How [I]fabulous[/I]! We can do them [I]right here[/I] in the waiting room -- for [I]your[/I] convenience!!! First, though, I’ll need to [I]change[/I] into my [I]operating gown[/I]...” The elderly couple watched as ‘Mr. Smith’ used a surgical scalpel to cut off his gray jogging suit, revealing the gaudy yellow-and-purple harlequin costume underneath. “Let's go, Harold, he’s obviously [I]mad[/I]!” the woman whispered to her husband. “Mad[I]cap[/I], lady, but, for now, [I]Dr. Madcap[/I] will be more appropriate. So, you say you’re both in for a facelift, eh? Anniversary gift to one another, eh? How sweet....” Madcap fluttered his eyelids as he raised the scalpel to his own face. “Here, allow me to [I]show you[/I] what’ll be happening, so that you’ll know what you’re getting in to. First, they [I]slice[/I] into your [I]face[/I]....” Madcap explained as he ran the scalpel blade across his forehead, cutting all the way down to the bone, “and then they [I]pull[/I] your face up to smooth out the wrinkles!” Madcap dropped the bloodied scalpel and grasped the ragged edge of his face and pulled up and back, tightening his face into a grimace. “Of course, if they’re not [I]careful[/I],” Madcap suddenly jerked away and down, literally tearing his own face off, revealing bloody muscle underneath, “[i]accidents[/i] can happen....” The elderly couple had turned mostly away as Madcap worked, thus avoiding the effects of his gaze, but they did see enough to turn their stomachs. “Fortunately, medical science is such that your [I]new face[/I] will be better than the old!” Madcap’s head had already completely regenerated, but his old face stuck to the wall where he’d tossed it. “Now, perhaps a facelift isn’t what you [I]really[/I] want… perhaps a [I]tummy-tuck[/I]?” Madcap lifted up part of his costume and began running the scalpel across his belly. “Those are quite simple -- all they do is [I]slice[/I]... into... your... [I]side[/I]... and [I]scoop out[/I]...” Madcap dropped the blade and picked up a wide, flat instrument and began scooping out his insides, “the [I]fatty deposits[/i]… oh, wait… that’s my [I]liver[/I]... or is that a [I]spleen[/I]? I can never [I]tell[/I]... anyway, after they do that, they slice off a bit of the tummy, [I]fry[/I] it up a [I]bacon[/I], [I]staple[/I] you up, and serve ya [I]breakfast[/I] the next day!” Madcap tossed the slice of his stomach into the office’s fish tank, and his regenerative abilities were already expelling the first stomach staple as he put in the fifth. Suddenly, Madcap became dimly aware of a still presence in the office. “Ah, another customer to [I]Dr. Madcap’s Plastic Surgery![/I] Tell me what you don’t like about yourself..." Turning, his gaze fell upon.... [/QUOTE]
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