paradisalost | Entries tagged with hank henshaw

cheerupemoborg.livejournal.com

['BAH HUMBUG!' describes Hank's mood pretty well at the moment.

Not being one for cheer or good will toward men, Hank is currently doing the one thing he hasn't been able to do in a long time: get nice and drunk. He doesn't stay in one place for long, however, - there are way too many places to go in this city - but it means you're chances of running into him are pretty good.

Right now he's sitting in a random bar, nursing a glass of whiskey he hasn't quite downed yet and murmuring to himself. Come join him?]

...total waste of time... no point at all!

cheerupemoborg.livejournal.com

[Anyone with their journals open today ought to be able to hear what sounds like intense arguing. The voices fade in and out as Hank's journal slowly flutters open and close, dangling from his hand.

The first voice sounds desperate and angry, the second is that of a woman, and the third is unmistakeably Hank. Good listeners can hear that their voices are echoing, meaning they must be in a very cramped alley somewhere.]

--amn it, I s-said fork it over right the hell now!

I will just-- just put the knife away!

You too, freak!

[Hank can clearly be heard chuckling in amusement.]

You can't be serious. You take one look at me, and your first thought is to try and rob me?

Shut the hell up and give me w-whatever you got!

Look at you. You're trembling.

[There are slow footsteps now.]

I'll gut you both like a damn fish, I swear it! Back off! I SAID BACK O--!!

[Before the stranger can finish his sentence, there's a flash of heat, a horrified, pained scream, and a body hitting the ground.

For a few seconds, the only sound now is a distinct sizzling. Until the woman starts screaming her head off, that is. Her voice slowly disappears into the distance as she runs for her life.

Hank can't help but sound amused as he calls after her.]

And a Happy Holiday to you! Ha...

[ooc: Over the journal or in person. Anyone in town is free to discover Hank and his mess.]

cheerupemoborg.livejournal.com

[There's a cyborg in the kitchen tonight, sitting at a table and looking like he wants to smack something or punt it across the city. He briefly looks up to stare at the microwave on the counter.

A minute passes.

And another.

... the microwave promptly explodes.]

Feh.

[ooc: open kitchen post! Mind the debris.]

cheerupemoborg.livejournal.com

[Hank's in the library - again! - reading (or trying to, anyway) a book. Yet he looks anxious as he eyes his journal.]

...So.

Who among you have yet to discover what your loss first was when you arrived here? Surely I'm not the only one.

cheerupemoborg.livejournal.com

[Hank's on the roof again today, staring off into space looking both bored and like he's concentrating on something. Which he is: it's another round of Technopathic Shenanigans!

Things have changed since he'd done this last: Abel and his nanites were long gone, obviously, and GLaDOS had returned. Hank could feel those soldier-types in their powered armor, the Danger Room, the anomaly that was the TARDIS, various electronics, computers, and so much more. Maybe he'll find something useful.

It wasn't quite the 30th, but still a nice enough night for mischief, he thought.]

[ooc: open post! Come bug him or, if you got the tech he's interested in, get poked and prodded by his powers - or worse! Let me know how far he can take it.]

cheerupemoborg.livejournal.com

[Ever since coming back, Hank had felt... uneasy. Like something was wrong or the world around was now fundamentally different, and that feeling was more than enough to spur him to continue his projects. He glides softly across the skies of Paradsa, headed in a northerly direction, and contemplates the current state of things.

From here he would be able to reach his normal forsted stomping grounds, and the remains of his work. Not far from his destination, Hank picks up the pace expecting to be there within a minute.

Instead, he finds that he has been spun around to face the opposite direction. Okay, maybe he wasn't paying attention to where he was going - simple mistake right? Yet, with each attempt he finds himself being forcably sent in the opposite direction. Then it hits him.]

... That's not fair.

[His second loss. Cut off from his precious workspace and from the boundary to the Dead Zone - the only place that could potentially give him respite. The realization hits him like a punch to the gut: if he had never died to begin with he could have cut his losses and simply trotted out there to die.]

THAT'S NOT FAIR!

[Now he'll never get the chance.]

[[ooc: Hank figured out his second loss! He maaaaaaaaad. Come piss him off some more.~]]

cheerupemoborg.livejournal.com

[Anybody near room 313 will notice that the door is cracked ajar, having been carelessly left open.

They'll probably wish it had stayed closed, though. Inside, everything appears normal... well, not really. The furniture is all there, sure, but everything - EVERYTHING - from said furniture to the walls and floors, and whatever other little kick-knacks, have taken on a disturbing bio-mechanical look straight from an H.R. Giger painting.

The atmosphere is oppressive and melancholy, and should they venture deeper inside they'll find that the wall were the window would normally be is now a long, dark hallway. It seems to stretch on forever, and the farther you get, the more a strange odor starts to get stronger, one that sells vaguely of burnt meat.

Eventually, travelers will be met with an interesting sight: the hall ends and becomes space - literally. They find themselves standing in the middle of what appears to be the dark depths of outer space, with stars and nebulae visible in the background. They'll likely be interested in te mountain of skulls, though. Now the origin of the smell is apparent.

A mountain of charred skulls of all sizes (approximately 7 million, in fact) stands now before them, and even make up the ground they stand upon. At the very top of this mountain is a throne, its back forming a familar Diamond shaped S-symbol, and upon this throne are two things: a nicely framed picture, it's glass face shattered, composed of a white haired man, a lovely blonde woman, a much younger looking man, and a burly looknig fellow standing behind them, a smile plastered on all their faces.

The second thing is a tombstone, umarked and waiting to be filled in. This is where Hank is right now, staring expressionless and unmoving at the picture.]

cheerupemoborg.livejournal.com

[It was like going to sleep, he noticed: one second he'd been there, the next he was awake in his room, like it was all just a dream.

He wasn't sure if this was a good thing or not. On one hand, he remembered and experienced nothing - the kind of oblivion he'd wanted. And yet... Hank was upset. Upset that he'd been brought back, and felt so empty.

Like Hank had never accomplished anything at all.]

( Clark )

( Yuki Nagato )

So, Paradisa! What have I missed?

supes

[Superman has been on the backburner a little. Clark hasn't been in the suit for a battle in some time, and he's never worn it in daylight –– that moment will probably come soon.

Not that the suit matters, with so many other things on his mind. Flying above the city, having headed out straight from the "office", Clark's mind is in so many places: the civilians in both the castle and the city, heroes in all corners with all sorts of motives and personal moral guidelines, villains prepared to do anything and likely to lash out harder when backed into a corner. There are loved ones to fret over, buildings to protect from too much damage, and endless co-ordination plans to consider. Plans that will probably be forgotten in the name of improvisation, Clark is sure.

Down below, the townspeople forming mobs in the city look like little pinpricks, and Clark knows that each of them is feeling the tug of mind control. The psychics will handle that. Meanwhile, he's headed to deal with Riful.

Or he would be dealing with Riful, if he wasn't encountering Hank, instead.]

[ooc: Hank vs Yuki + Clark.]

nishimono.livejournal.com

( ICM )

[ ooc; open to all villains and hostages. You guys can threadjack or jump wherever you want! Make your own threads, anything :)

HOSTAGES AND VILLAINS CAN MINGLE AS THEY PLEASE c: ]

cheerupemoborg.livejournal.com

( Forest Filter )

cheerupemoborg.livejournal.com

( Riful )

[Hank looks oddly relaxed today as he slowly struts around the halls of the castle, lost in thought and journal open in one hand.]

What would you say your greatest achievement is? You know, something to really be proud of.

[ooc:Filter is in regards to this!]

cheerupemoborg.livejournal.com

( Private )

[It's the early morning hours and a certain someone is in the library! Who in the world would think of browsing at such an ungodly hour? Insomniacs, and Hank, that's who!

He's got a small bundle of books - everything from physics to fiction - on an out-of-the-way desk he's annexed for himself.

Yet he seems frustrated by something, as he'll start a section of a page before suddenly losing interest or just flip through impatiently - with something most definitely being on his mind as he grumbles away at seemingly no one, his nearby journal being the only 'listener'.]

brokencoffeepot.livejournal.com

Who: Rinzler, Billy and Hank
What: Reprogramming.
When: Right now?
Where: Some hallway or something somewhere where people aren't.
Rating: Uh... PG-13

( Just another normal day at the castle Paradisa. )

cheerupemoborg.livejournal.com

It's funny, being so vulnerable was kind of... invigorating. Each time the castle does this, I feel that same sensation.

Like I've been let out of a cage I've been stuck in, with no discernible way out.

A brief respite.

Anyway, just how many of you were left behind this time?

cheerupemoborg.livejournal.com

[Anyone browsing the journal right about now may notice a new entry has appeared! The writing lacks all kinds of character and looks almost as though it were printed off a computer, with no distinguishing features about it or whom might have wrote it in the first place.]

I have hidden several explosive devices randomly throughout the City Royale.

They all vary in terms of power. I can assure you, however, that they will each leave their mark.

You have approximately 90 minutes before they each explode simultaneously.

Do not dawdle. The clock is ticking.

cheerupemoborg.livejournal.com

( Private )

cheerupemoborg.livejournal.com

...Strange. You'd think with all the things it does and is capable of doing, Paradisa would inevitably find a way to get under a person's skin, but this certainly wasn't what I was quite expecting.

[A sigh.]

Perhaps I should leave and return when only things have returned to normal, before I wind up annihilating something...

[In fact, that sounds pretty good right about now!

Because, ew, children. >/]

cheerupemoborg.livejournal.com

[Hank is feeling exceptionally emo today, and can't seem to figure out why. So what better way to make yourself feel better than making others feel bad?

He's on a secluded part of the roof, of course, seeing as how its pretty out of the way for most residents, and seems lost in thought.]

...If you could change one thing about your past what would it be? Alternatively, if there's one person you could kill, who would you choose?

cheerupemoborg.livejournal.com

[There's a ruckus over the journals today. Clanging, banging, and other metallic sounds are can intermittently be heard, and sometimes they can get downright loud.

Just when it starts to get a little quiet, it starts up all over again and eventually subsides. Occasionally, heavy footsteps, as though going by the journal, an also be heard.

That, and a rough, robotic voice can also be made out among the cacophony barking the occasional order.]

Be careful with that! I want everything packed away in precisely the way I instructed.

[ooc: for those who don't know, Hank's got a big, fancy machine out in the deeper parts of the forest. And now he's taking it apart ;.;]

About the Archive

"Paradisa Lost" is the archive of what the journals contained between December 1st, 2006 and January 10th, 2012. On that final day, Paradisa issued new journals, so that the residents could fill them up again. While there are still residents around who have old journals, we have chosen to preserve the old journals here for muns' reference and history.

"Lost" in the title refers to both the old journals that the residents once kept, and also to our move to Dreamwidth from the original Livejournal community, where Paradisa started. It is a fresh start for muns, as well as for the characters.

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PARADISA LOST

the archives, 2006-2012

Entries tagged with hank henshaw

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36; backdated to the 26th

CRISIS OF INFINITE VILLAINS

031; backdated slightly

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