Betrayal Game #57: Agents of H.A.T.E.--GAME

ROUND ONE

Tabula Rasa

The H.A.T.E Aeromarine...

“SHEILA? SHEILA?!” Called out Dirk Anger, trying to raise his secretary's attention.

“My name is Gladys,” sighed the young auburn haired woman, clearly beginning to regret her career choice.

“How close are we?” asked Dirk, ignoring her entirely.

“We're catching up to the Shockwave Rider Version 2.5” affirmed Gladys/Sheila. “But they could have anything in there, the element of surprise belongs to them!”

“For now,” sneered Dirk, admiring his sneer in the window behind him, marvelling over his miraculous return from a zombie state. “I have my new and improved Ptera-Men, the confusing Bat People of Peru, and the Sharketerfly, a crossing of the delightful Great White Shark, and also, the majestical butterfly!”

“Or,” suggested Sheila/Gladys. “You COULD always deploy the team that you've been building to take on the Nextwave squad?”

Dirk's eyes lit up with an almost child-like glee as he clapped his hands together.

“THE NEW RECRUITS! I forget... who are they again?”

“Oh, mostly a bunch of C-listers,” sniffed Gladys.

“Expendable?” asked Dirk, one eyebrow raised.

“I think most people would miss the Broccoli Men of the Beyond Corporation more than they'd miss these heroes,” replied Gladys.

“What are we waiting for?!” screeched Dirk, leaping from his seat. “Let's see how these losers shape up!”

Meanwhile, on the Shockwave Rider Version 2.5...

“ALL HAIL ME FLESHY HUMANS!” bellowed Aaron Stack, AKA Machine Man, a big dumb grin plastered all over his face.

“Christ,” sighed Monica Rambeau, rolling her eyes. “Why's he being anti-human now?”

“I dunno, maybe it's because he stole that thing from me that I stole from Dirk before we escaped again,” shrugged Tabby, covering the receiver of her phone as she addressed Monica before turning back to her conversation about shopping.

“Hey, I'm the one who busted us out almost single-handedly!” said The Captain, before belching an intensely alcoholic scented burp.

“Aaron, be a darling and explain why we're hailing you now, before I have to go and fetch my shotgun and make ever such a mess of your chassis,” replied Elsa Bloodstone.

“With this device, I hold in my hands the means to slow down Dirk's new team that he built to stop my sexy robot self and my fleshy meat-sack underlings!” Beamed Machine Man, as he pressed a button on what appeared to be a television remote control.

“Oh god, what did you just do?” Asked Monica.

“I have no f**king clue,” replied Machine Man. “But you may begin worshipping me as your god now.”

Back on the Aeromarine...

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY'VE LOST THEIR MEMORIES?!” bellowed Dirk Anger.

“Well,” began Gladys. “It would appear that when Nextwave last escaped our clutches--”

“Befouling my GLORIOUS TORTOISEMEN IN THE PROCESS!” screamed Dirk. “Those bastards...”

“Well, yes,” said Gladys. “Although unfortunately, it seems that something terrible has happened with your new team on the training deck... Not only have the new recruits had their EUCH! Brand nannites activated, but the data purge program was started. Luckily, the process crapped out before it could complete, but the side-effect is that the recruits have literally no idea who they are. They remember their HATE designations, but very little else about themselves...”

“Please tell me there's some good news...” whimpered Dirk.

“Sorry sir,” continued Gladys. “It would appear designate 'Fashionista' has suffered fatal injuries during the purge.”

“How fatal are we talking?” asked Dirk.

“Standard amount of fatal for fatal,” said Gladys, trying not to sound condescending. “Preliminary reports indicated that whilst she might have died of shame when she realised that her jacket needed a belt, it's actually far more likely that she was crushed by something during the shifting in the cargo hold in that last bit of turbulence we hit.”

“No,” whispered Dirk. “I smell a rat. FOUL PLAY IS AFOOT! Nextwave have an agent onboard and they're using him to foil us from within!”

“Well,” sighed Gladys, as they entered the training deck to find the recruits looking around at one another in various states of confusion, before looking at the ruined body of the Fashionista, her broken body having been pounded into the floor with great force. “If that IS the case, they won't remember it now...”

AGENTS OF H.A.T.E:

CRAWLER-- Little Man Syndrome
MEDIUM13-- The Virgin
XTREMEONE1-- The Drug Addict
SIXHOURSOFLUCY-- The Lucky Lab Rat
HOTKNIVES-- Robocop
UNCANNYSCOTT-- Face for Radio
GARDIEN-- The Flying Sea-Shrimp
QDLUX--Miss Pink
MARTIJNJB-- The Phoenix
KIPE--Hello Kitty
MARHAWKMAN-- Girl Goblin
MASTERMIND-- Beach Bum
SAVANT-- The Black-Eyed 'B'
HISTORY OF PAPER-- The Blind Author

GETTING THEIR NAME INSCRIBED ON THE WALL OF THE HONOURED DEAD:

The Fashionista.

[OOG-- This round will remain open until MONDAY at around 2PM GMT to allow for people who only have access via work. If everyone has posted by then, the game will move on more quickly.

All of your characters are near totally amnesiac. You do not know who you are. You do not know who anyone else is here. You are encouraged to post clues in your posts as to whom your character is, as certain traits and abilities (for example, martial arts training, weapons training, overall personality traits) have NOT been wiped clean. You may also have VAGUE memories of your past, but none so blatant that you'll know exactly who you are. Perhaps you remember the name of a team you worked on, or the location of a former base of operations, or some of your former team mates... just nothing that you, as the player, will be able to use to divine your own identity. You have until the close of this round to PM me, the glorious and ruggedly handsome Dirk Anger, with your guesses as to the identities of the other players, INCLUDING the first victim. The first player to correctly guess the identities of all the other players will automatically win immunity for the next round. If no one guesses them ALL correctly, the prize goes to whomever got the highest number of players correct. PLEASE ONLY SEND ONE PM WITH YOUR GUESSES ON THEM.

Anybody with a usable role MUST PM me before the end of this round to use it in the next. If not, then I'll assume you mean to use it in the round after.

Anger out.]

I wake up staring at the wall of what appears to be, upon further investigation, some kind of warehouse. Am I moving? Perhaps a moving craft?

I go to check my scanners, but my wrist doesn't look the same. I mean, doesn't it? I do have scanners, correct? Something tells me I used to. However by the grace of....some diety?...I cannot quite recall, well anything.

A quick look around the room and it would appear I'm in a room full of other similarly dressed people. The Kitty kind of looks familiar. Maybe an old commrade in arms? Or perhaps an old enemy? Second guessing my instincts will not be helpful.

I follow the Black Eyed one's gaze and see the body. Her look seems alien. In fact most of these people do.

With what little I can see of myself without a mirror, I appear to have similar body structure, if not a much stronger frame.

Miss Pink I am called. Well, my nails are a lovely shade.

Sensors...Resetting...01110101 01110100 01101111 01110000 01101001 01100001 00111111 00100000 01001110 01101111 .
Where am I? What is this?
01000111 01100101 01101110 01101111 01110011 01101000 01100001 00101100 01001100 01101111 01101110 01100100 01101111 01101110 00101100 00100000 01010111 01100101 01110011 01110100 01100011 01101000 01100101 01110011 01110100 01100101 01110010 00111111 00100000 01001110 01100101 01100111 01100001 01110100 01101001 01110110 01100101

Scanners unable to determine location. Memory core also malfunctioning.

Identity... Unknown

Others in vicinity - Identities also unknown.

Scanners set to investigate. Virgin and Face for Radio are indicating warning signs.

Why? Do I know them? I don't know who I am, or where I am

01001101 01101111 01110100 01101000 01100101 01110010 00100000 01101111 01100110 00100000 01101100 01101001 01100110 01100101

Why does this keep happening to me?

At first there is only darkness. Then, a voice, deep and coarse, followed by another voice, soft and more pleasant to your sensitive ears. They wake you, and you rise to meet them. Your slumber was deep and dreamless, and you stumble as the sudden flood of new impulses momentarily overwhelms you. You notice someone rushing towards you, offering younger and stronger limbs to support your frail body. As you regain your balance, you smile at your friendly helper - you knew this would happen, for you had ‘seen’ it moments before you fell. You can’t quite explain it, but apparently the same gift allows you to see as other people would, despite you apparent blindness. When and how you acquired such powers remains a mystery to you, as do many other things. You decide to begin with the obvious question. "Thank you for your help, young Phoenix. Now,would you help an old woman remember who she is?"

(votes for: The Phoenix, Robocop)

I was colder then I should be yet my palms were wet and I felt shaky.

I put a hand on my pulsating forehead, trying to catch my bearings but the more I took in my surroundings the uneasier I felt.

Someone cracks a joke that I didn't find at all funny, in fact I find it more bothersome. My head was pounding to hard to laugh, I just wished people were quiet and would leave be alone. What was wrong with me? Why did everything around me seem so out of focused and what was this craving I was feeling?

More gather around, each with strange names designated to them? Drug addict...That was me? Was I a drug addict? Was that why I was like this?

The uncertainty was killing me? Who was I, what was I, why was I here? I didn't belong with these people, I knew that.

I edge closer to the body on the floor, my heart pounding louder in my chest. Had I ever seen a dead body before? It had to be an experience, to see a dead person. Yet as my eyes fall on the body, I don't flinch or even shudder. No as my eyes scan the body, I feel curious, intrigued even.

I move past the others, eyeing them with suspicious. Did they know who I was what? What I was? Did they bring me here, did they kill this woman? I could hardly even think straight enough to get all these answers. The craving in my body seemed to intensify. My skin practically burned.

The woman, the Fashionista, great force was involved in killing her. Only someone with strength could have done such a thing.

I stood back up and quickly looked around. Which one of them did this? Or maybe it was all of them. Maybe this was some test for me....I felt eyes on me from every corner, knowing and prying eyes.

My eyes fell on the Beach Bum, who put on a good show of being lost but wasn't fooling me. And this Miss Pink...why was she so cheery? Why did she know? It must have been her...She was behind this! She must want to ruin me. They all did. They all knew my secret and would tell everyone.

Dirk Anger glanced at the Lucky Lab Rat, having just made his announcement regarding the death of the Fashionista. He shot a dirty look at Shiela/Gladys.

"I really hope this is a result of the amnesia. If not, I can guarantee that you're fired for hiring this twerp."

Shiela/Gladys gulped.

[OOC: Dirk Anger may be inclined to stretch this round out a little, if just because apparently Das_Boot has to work 28 hours over today and Monday. If all votes are in by tonight, there will be a new round posted tonight. Also, to facilitate the guessing game (as I've only had one reply), the genders of the designates will be posted in the side-thread... As I've only had one guess so far and even that was for only one name.)

Girl Goblin looked around before climbing on top of the cargo to take a nap.  On the way up she looked at "Little Man" and "B" with a suspicious glare.

Little Man woke up with a hangover. He looked out through the helmet and realized that part of the smell was not his morning breath, but came from a body.

Then, because his computer crashed and stuff, he had a bad feeling about the 'B' and the Face for Radio before hoping to recommit to saying more next time around.

ROUND TWO

In which memories return, but some people wished that they hadn't...

The H.A.T.E Aeromarine...

“It's like they're all really simple,” whispered Dirk Anger towards Gladys.

“They have amnesia, sir,” she replied.

“No, I mean like... 'Momma and Poppa were related before the wedding', simple,” replied Dirk.

“I don't actually think any of these women have been a bride before...” commented Gladys. “But word from our tech department is that we should have their memories back online soon. By the way, it IS the guys from Human Resources who run the tech support too, right?”

Dirk shrugged. “Hell would I know, I only found out about the Internet three months ago.”

Gladys suppressed a shudder as she thought of those horrendous Broccoli based life-forms. Gladys' sister worked for S.W.O.R.D and said that someone had once killed an entire planet of broccoli based people, and Gladys found it hard to care, having worked with H.A.T.E's human resources department in the past.

There was a sudden burst of blue static, accompanied by a noise almost akin to a miniature sonic boom. The assembled group of H.A.T.E recruits blinked a few times, before realisation seemed to dawn on them.

“Hey...” said Eric O'Grady, the most Irredeemable Ant Man yet. “I'm sure I said no to joining H.A.T.E... your dental plan sucks!”

“And I'm sure I'm too young to be allowed to work for a government program... as well as being a foreign national,” added Hisako Ichiki, the ever-chaste Armor.

“I feel sick,” commented Dr Reyes.

“Oh, wow!” exclaimed Longshot ecstatically. “New friends! Everybody, quick! What's your favourite food?”

“Systems re-booting,” said Omega Sentinel, as she glanced warily around the room.

“Yeah, Dirk, thing is, I don't strictly remember agreeing to this either,” said Micromax, AKA Scott Wright, the radio DJ.

“Oh gosh!” exclaimed Laurie Not-Collins-But-The-Other-One, with her equally unimpressive code-name of Transsonic. “Maybe I'll finally be relevant!”

“I would not wager vast amounts of credits on that,” said Cerise, slipping into a pre-emptive defensive stance almost instinctively.

“Guys, come on,” said Mr Immortal, formerly of the Great Lakes Avengers (And NOT the Gay and Lesbian Alliance, not that there was anything wrong with that! Just... y'know. Craig Hollis was a man who knew which side his bread was buttered). “What's the worst that could happen, huh?”

“Horrible crushing death similar to the way this young lady was killed,” suggested Kylun. “Would anyone know the name of this poor fair maid?”

“Not me,” added Gargouille helpfully before she rolled over and went back to sleep.

“Beats me fella,” said Slipstream with a shrug. “I'd just want to get the hell out of here and catch some waves.”

“What grand aspirations,” sighed Domino, rolling her eyes. “Does it occur to no one else that Ariel was clearly murdered? And that we still have no memory of how she died?”

“And that there will be more deaths to come,” added Destiny. “This much, I have foreseen.”

“Wow,” said Dirk, thumping Destiny on the back. “I don't care enough to know who you are lady, but you're putting me on a downer, even for a brailley. It was probably those dastardly fiends from Nextwave who killed Ariel, anyway. Elsa was probably jealous of her ability to accessorize.”

Speaking of those dastardly fiends from Nextwave...

“Gimme!” shouted Tabby, snatching the remote from Aaron. “This button looks interesting...”

Back on the Aeromarine, where our players are currently living, which you know because you're them.

The Aeromarine's lights went down, and stayed down for almost two minutes. Hisako armoured up, Cerise created some lights and Karima popped a few light units out of her impressively 1980's shoulder pads.

“Gladys, what's going on?” asked Dirk, as he grasped her hand in sheer terror. Mommy would always have left his night-light on.

“I'm not sure, but...” began Gladys. The scan light caused by the various abilities of the assembled heroes suddenly dimmed too, and after a couple of moments, a lot of odd sounds could be heard echoing around the Aeromarine's hold. “Oh, crap,” muttered Gladys. “I think Nextwave have activated the Blaire protocols...”

“The what?” asked Dirk, as the hold appeared to have restructured itself into a stage, a ghastly simulacrum of the mutant super-heroine, Dazzler, plastered all over the giant TVs.

“The Blaire protocols,” sighed Gladys. “An inbuilt feature of the nannites. They'll be unable to speak or communicate other than via song until we can get this feature shut down... and worse... it tends to default to up-beat electro 80's synth pop, or later derivatives thereof...”

“What kind of monster would design such a program,” breathed Dirk in horror.

The assembled heroes formed some kind of odd formation and broke out into song, to the tune of Dancing Queen by Abba.

“Dirk it's clear that you've lost controooool,

Nextwave really are on a roooooooll,

They've got this weird nannite remote,

Giving us a zap,

Now we can't shut our traps

And if you get the chaaaaaaaaance

You'll see we have a new deceased!

Gargouille will now rest in peace!

New deceased,

Looks like she put up a fight at least, oh yeaaaaaaah

She's been sliced!

She's been di-ICED!

Someone slit open her thigh

Oooooh Goblin Girl,

Now deceased

Gargouille please rest in peace....

[INSTRUCTION: The Blaire Protocols prevent you from speaking or communicating other than through the medium of song, and the kind of songs that one would imagine Dazzler singing as a cover version. The response that makes me laugh out loud the most will win immunity for the next round. Votes will follow this instruction, but keep in mind that some roles will have changed some of the vote counts, so if you don't see what you expect... DON'T f**kING QUESTION ME I'M A MAN ON THE EDGE]

Agents of H.A.T.E

Iredeemable Ant-Man- X

Armor- XX

Dr Reyes- XXX

Longshot- X

Omega Sentinel- XXXXX

Micromax- XXXX

Transsonic- XX

Cerise- XXXX

Mr Immortal- X

Kylun- XXX

Slipstream- X

Domino- XXXX

Destiny-

Former agents of H.A.T.E who are only former because of their horrendous deaths at the hands of someone else who is an agent of H.A.T.E and therefore a naughty scallywag

Ariel II

Gargouille.

Edited by das_boot - 24-Jul-2012 at 12:19pm

Cerise was terrified of opening her mouth. Kurt Wagner had introduced the former Ghrand Jhar warrior to "singing" but it was still something she had never experienced first hand.

She opened her mouth, and somehow with her powers she created a solid pink disco ball in the center of the ceiling - without ever having seen one.

At first, I was afraid, I was petrified
Kept thinking, I could never find out who I was deep inside.
And then that flash of lights and I knew Hello Kitty was Ky'lun,
My memory grew strong and I hope this song isn't too long

And so now I'm back from Outer Space
I just fought a bunch of Aliens, also known as the Phalanx.
I shouldn't have signed up with this group,
We should be weary of Desitny;
There's a Killer on the loose, and she maybe after me!

Go on and go, look at the floor,
There's two bodies now
These females aren't breathing anymore

Dr. Reyes is the one who could use a scalpel on her thigh?
Do you think she is sober?

Do you think I'd lay down and die?

Oh, no, not I, I will survive
Oh, as long as I know how to fight, I know I'll stay alive
I've got all powers and skills, I'm not trying to get us killed
And I'll survive, I will survive, hey, hey

Mr. Immortal saw long faces all around him. On top of 2 deceased team members, everyone was singing disco songs. Could things get any worse? Things were looking bleak for this obscure and strange lineup, but if there was anything Mr. Immortal was experienced in, it was leading strange and obscure lineups. He felt it was his duty to lift the team's spirits...

... he only wished he wouldn't do so through yet another disco classic... 

People, there’s no need to feel fright
I say, people, including aliens all right
I say, people, ‘cause we’re on this death-flight
There’s no need to be unhappy

People, Dirk Anger can be a friend
I say, people, death’s not always the end
We can stay here, and I’m sure we will find
Many ways to have a good time

It’s fun to stay at the H-A-T-E
It’s fun to stay at the H-A-T-E

They have everything for a hero to rise,
And some cocaine for good Dr. Reyes

It’s fun to stay at the H-A-T-E
It’s fun to stay at the H-A-T-E

You can get yourself cleaned, have a meal with the team,
There’s a fine surfboard too for Slipstream

People, I think I just realised
I say, listen, and look into my eyes
I think you are, not immortal at all
I think you might, one by one, fall…

It’s sh*t to stay at the H-A-T-E
It’s sh*t to stay at the H-A-T-E

Gotta make a move
So the killer won't get to me
My Armor keep on glowing
Gives me my ancestor's energy

Well, I talk about it
Talk about it
Talk about it
Talk about it
Talk about, Talk about
Talk about movin

Gotta move on
Gotta move on
Gotta move on

Won't you get rid of  
These bodies on the ground?
Won't you get rid of
These bodies on the ground?
Won't you get rid of
These bodies on the ground?

Micromax

Edited by medium13 - 25-Jul-2012 at 5:47pm

The Lucky Lab Rat completed his investigation of the sleeping goblin girl. She was dead too! He had to tell his new friends, who were suddenly singing and dancing around to disco music. How funny! It reminded him of a woman he used to know named Alison Blaire.

Wait -- Alison Blaire? The memory of his former love triggered his own memories to come flooding back. He knew who he was now! His name was Longshot! Longshot! Long shot! Shot. Shot?

Longshot opened his mouth to tell his new friends about the danger around them, but the words in his name took on a life of their own and his head started bobbing uncontrollably:

"Well you're a real sly killer with diverse weaponry
For stopping beating hearts, like the two in me
That's O.K., I can dodge any bullet
You really want to mess with a guy in a mullet?

Hit me with your best shot!
Why don't you hit me with your best shot?!
Hit me with your best shot!
Fire away!

You hunt us with our guard down, you don't fight fair
Gargouille's dead, see if we care!
Femoral artery opened up like a drain
Hard light scalpel bearer's gonna strike again

Hit me with your best shot!
Come on, hurry before you get caught!
(Transonic's a little snot!
Send her away!)

(guitar solo, probably accompanied by a punch-dancing gymnastics interlude)

Well you're a real sly killer with diverse weaponry
Smashing people into dust, like ma mort amie,
Dr. Reyes and Cerise threaten us in this place
Can't bring myself to trust that smirking Aerie face!

Hit me with your best shot!
Blaire Protocols aren't all for naught!
Ali Blaire is way hot!
Wouldn't you say?!

Ali Blaire is way hot!
When I get lucky, is it rape or not?
Ali Blaire is way hot!
(Our son is gay!)"