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Message: <blockquote data-quote="megamania" data-source="post: 1100599" data-attributes="member: 9255">STRIKEFORCE: MORITURISEGMENT 005“Megamania”from PoisonSomething To Believe In 1990 Capital Records“He cries forgive me for what I’ve done thereForgive me for the things I didAnd give me something to believe inIf there’s a Lord aboveGive me something to believe in”The young looking man sings to himself.  His messy hair swept back but jutting out everywhere from being subject to constant abuse by a worn hat and miscare.  It is a boyish look he secretly loves to have.  He flips out the cards looking at every third one.  Solitary.  How he hates the game.He doesn’t so much hate the game itself.  Just he hates being bored and to play solitary means he is fighting boredom.  He grumbles them tosses the cards onto his five rows of alternating red and black numbered cards.  “AAAARRRRGH!”He runs his black gloved hands through his hair again furthering its messed up look.  He looks first straight up into the darkness with a look of why me.  He then takes in his environment once more.  A table, a chair, a fireplace and a cot.  Basic food and drink on the table.  No Mountain Dew.He puts his ball cap on the center of the table and begins to toss the cards one by one into it.  52 cards in he hurumphs in a mixture of accomplishment and boredom.  He gets up and checks for a door.  He takes time doing it but finds one.  With a big smile he opens it.  Jet…Black…Nothingness….“I was better off dead.”He lies down on his cot.  He looks into the ceiling again.  “So, a conman, a priest and a lady of the night walk into a bar….”He sits upright quickly.  His nerves are tense and he can not sit still.  He is Jim Addards.  His Codename is Megamania.He is quite proud of this name.  His superiors that issued this codename to him did not mean it to be a compliment. Mania= sudden bursts of physical and mental energy often released violently.  Mega= x1000.  He thought it fit him well.He hums a rock song to himself as he reaches for his weapons.  He checks his Kevlar cased Nylon batons, which are especially hardened, and light but gives a solid strike.  He then looks into his Energy Sidearm.  This experimental weapon has saved him several times in the past.  He escaped terrorists, assassins and even the almighty bad guy himself- Vandal Boc.Vandal Boc.Jim’s life was simple before this dictator came into his life.  Before the dreams, before the cultists Before…Jennifer.Jim picks up his kevlar-armored mask and stares into its green eyes.  With a smirk known to make some girls swoon, he thinks about a few adventures he had as an US spy in the Pathfinders Program.  He puts the mask down so that it faces him as he sits down on the lone chair once more.“So Mister Mania….How did you ever become a great multi-planar defender of the realities that you don’t gave a ***king damn about?”“Well Barbara, it began when I was a High School student in AMHS.  I didn’t know it then but I was destined to combat the nastiest evil guy Earth has in its myth.  You know…..”I hope you guess my name” guy.  Stephan King referred to him as the Walking Man.”His agents tried to kill me then but failed.  After that, the Government got me in a college program and trained me to be a spy.  Not like James Bond…I do more Recon that silliness he does.  As time went, I had dreams of the big day.  Good vs Evil.  Fate of Earth.  That kinda thing.“That must have been hard on you.  How do you cope with the knowledge that you are earth’s savior?”Careful of your wording.  I’m no saint nor savior.  I kill their opposites.“Kill.  Doesn’t that sound harsh?”err…nope. “How did that get you to here today?”Welp…I confronted that sick SOB ***k-faced sorry bastard bad excuse of a human like being and…first was kicked out of the spy game and later killed.A shocked look of realization strikes him.  Strikes him profoundly.  Pale and awestruck he shudders.  “oh…my…god…!”It fits.  It fits so perfectly.  How did I not see it then.  The ***king Government set me up!  Vandal knew I was coming!  Jim leaps up and knocks over his chair.  He backhands the emotionless mask.  It thumps against the wall and lands upright…facing him once more.At least now he finally knew what he wanted for his services rendered.  Vandal Boc and the traitor are presented on a silver platter.</blockquote>

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