Quentin Beck (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
itsamysterio) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
revivalproject2021-05-18 07:47 am
itsamysterio) wrote in revivalproject2021-05-18 07:47 am
Don't ever apologize for being the smartest one in the room
WHO: Mysterio, OTA
WHERE: Billy's City
WHAT: Time to prove Beck's tech can change the world
WHEN: Mid/Late Event
WARNINGS: MUCH PSYCHOLOGICAL TRAUMA, UPSETING IMAGERY, ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK
Stark Industries
Super villains attacking the building was almost just another Tuesday at this. Not that Mysterio necessarily considered himself to be a villain. A strange green mist spilled through the halls, Beck couldn't help but play up the theatrics a little.
His ultimate goal was Stark, but that didn't mean he couldn't have a little fun with his coworkers as he made his way to his dear boss. Or any other unfortunate visitors to the building.
Before you had time to be surprised by whatever it was he was wearing, you were plunged into a world of illusion, your deepest fears and greatest traumas uprooted and unearthed into an unsettling hellscape.
The Masses
Why not spread the fun around? Mysterio ventured out into the streets, confident no one could stand in his way. After all, what kind of threat could you really be to him when he could twist the very world around you into a personalized hell?
That green mist ventured out, flooding the city block, chaos erupting as people went running and cars veered off course.
Just the Two of Us
It was just the two of you now, and Mysterio chuckled inside his helmet, palms raised in mock surrender.
"You really think you can stop me?" he asked. Sure- they'd put up a good fight, but Beck was barely getting stated.
That mist became almost suffocating, and the world seemed to shift, rewriting itself to plunge you directly into your very own personal hellscape. Even knowing none of it was real did nothing to stop your mind from reacting as though it were. You're just a puppet on a string, and Mysterio's going to enjoy playing with his toy before he breaks it.
WHERE: Billy's City
WHAT: Time to prove Beck's tech can change the world
WHEN: Mid/Late Event
WARNINGS: MUCH PSYCHOLOGICAL TRAUMA, UPSETING IMAGERY, ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK
Stark Industries
Super villains attacking the building was almost just another Tuesday at this. Not that Mysterio necessarily considered himself to be a villain. A strange green mist spilled through the halls, Beck couldn't help but play up the theatrics a little.
His ultimate goal was Stark, but that didn't mean he couldn't have a little fun with his coworkers as he made his way to his dear boss. Or any other unfortunate visitors to the building.
Before you had time to be surprised by whatever it was he was wearing, you were plunged into a world of illusion, your deepest fears and greatest traumas uprooted and unearthed into an unsettling hellscape.
The Masses
Why not spread the fun around? Mysterio ventured out into the streets, confident no one could stand in his way. After all, what kind of threat could you really be to him when he could twist the very world around you into a personalized hell?
That green mist ventured out, flooding the city block, chaos erupting as people went running and cars veered off course.
Just the Two of Us
It was just the two of you now, and Mysterio chuckled inside his helmet, palms raised in mock surrender.
"You really think you can stop me?" he asked. Sure- they'd put up a good fight, but Beck was barely getting stated.
That mist became almost suffocating, and the world seemed to shift, rewriting itself to plunge you directly into your very own personal hellscape. Even knowing none of it was real did nothing to stop your mind from reacting as though it were. You're just a puppet on a string, and Mysterio's going to enjoy playing with his toy before he breaks it.
no subject
Eyes then widened when he looked up, throat dry as disorientation melted away into fear when he heard the voices.
No
Echo gasped, forcing himself off of the ground to get onto his hands and knees to crawl away. He only stopped when the same voices started calling his name, head jerking back to see
red
Similar fatigues – the ones his (living) fellow soldiers wore – all of them were strewn about, flashes of white were covered in deepening crimson. His hands, his own clothing, smeared with the same dark colors.
"–We have to go," he stammered to himself.
To whoever was still alive.
To no one.
"We have to go now!"
no subject
no subject
There's too many of them
Echo wanted to run. He couldn't. The vice-like grip clamping around his ankle shook him from his stupor, sharply gasping when his eyes looked down at his feet.
The ringing in his ears lost its prominence once the cries started rising in volume.
Too many
The face that looked back at him – his brother-in-arms' face (his face?) – startled him. Disfigured. Bloodied.
Red.
Hands trembled as he tried to free himself, tried to force the hand to release him. Desperate to flee. Determined to hold onto the wounded soldier for as long as he could.