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
"You killed her-!"
"Aeon-!"
Voices echoed round her, vines crawling across the ground and snaking up her foot to bind her to face her judgement.
"How many have you killed, Aeon?"
"Why?"
"Look at them, Aeon."
no subject
In the right settings, she didn't mind being restrained, but this was decidedly not one of them at all. With no other choice, she did look: closely, in some cases, searching faces she didn't know.
Some came with sharp moments of recognition, as quick and painful as daggers between her ribs: Lisa. The sickly man reaching for her hand, his face covered in sweat? Bargeld. The one with no legs: Sibyl. But others ... others were just ... bodies. Faceless. Some had strange markings across their faces, blue trails that implied some kind of horrible infection, and she thought unbidden of the job she'd done earlier that week, raiding the laboratory for the man who'd wanted to be rid of his powers.
Had that been another job? Chemical warfare? She would have never taken a job like that ... but ... she also hadn't known those people's faces a moment earlier.
"I don't know you," she cried, desperate to make it stop. "I don't remember--! I don't know why, but I - I don't...!"
no subject
"How many thousands are dead because of you?"
no subject
"Including me," she said.
"What?" Aeon tried to swallow, but her mouth was too dry.
"We could have had happiness--"
"Bullshit," another one says, cutting Sweatshirt off. "You sold out to Trevor. Don't take the focus away from the issue here: her guilt. You deserved to die.
We ALL did. Why should this pretty one be any different?"
She didn't understand. Whatever her subconscious was feeding her just wasn't making sense, as horrifying as it was. She struggled to get free of the vines, even as the clones all advanced on her.
Clones? Strange. Where had that word even come from?