#catastrofiend

catastrofiend concepts pre and post disintregration gun

wanted it to look like something that could survive a car crash with a dash of fallout centaur.

extra stuff under the cut

From:

Mitchell's Guide to Villains entry 2: The Catastrofiend

20:05 - Back to the security camera feed. Sidestep escapes the building at a run, the Catastrofiend right behind.

...

21:50 - Another, more distant security feed spots Charge running. Then the Catastrofiend.

I am absolutely positive this part of the footage would have ended up memed online, becoming the PR team's personal nightmare.

(The story is actually fucking terrifying, I'm just stupid. Pls go support the Fallen Hero patreon)

Catastrofiend

and Stefan when his plan somehow works:

Fallen Hero fan fiction ~6k words (final NaNoWriMo total is 54.6k/50k) [ao3]

–

You push off to the left to avoid the incoming right hook, only to get sucker punched by a left-handed strike. Stepping back, you grit your teeth and grab Herald’s arm pulling him off balance as you get in under his guard. He recovers quicker than you expected but instead of going for the obvious knee strike Herald tries to twist out of your grip. He almost succeeds – you can feel your feet leave the ground – and then you shift your hold on him and throw him down on his back hard enough to bring you both back to earth.

Herald groans but doesn’t get back up. Hands on your knees you take a moment to get your breath back before offering Herald a hand back up. “Y–you’re getting better. But do you– do you know where you screwed up?”

He looks away from you, sheepishly rubbing his bad knee. “I know but… I mean, I’m still in therapy for this knee. I don’t want to mess it up again.”

You cross your arms, hardening your expression so you won’t look guilty. “Y–you got two– got two knees.”

“I know, it’s just…” He sighs.

“Get–get some kneepads then, flyboy.” You shrug, step away to grab your water bottle off the ground and take a drink. “Leaving a weapon on the– on the table like that is like having a big flashing sign th–that says ‘hit here for massive damage!’”

Herald laughs at the mental image in his head. “I can just imagine the conversation with PR about that.”

“Fuck Ranger PR.” You snort, gesturing with the bottle in your hand for emphasis. “Those guys got you all dancing on strings, but they don’t c–c–care what condition you’re in as long as–long as you make a good magazine cover.”

Ao3 upload

The man drank, hands shaking, sweat dripping down his forehead. It has been a week since he left the envelope, an envelope with the picture of his enemy. Someone who took everything from him. Someone who deserved to die.

But the cops couldn’t do anything. There was no proof, no evidence. There was nothing except for a very legal document that allowed the bastard to take it all. And what he should have expected? This was Los Diablos, the free economic zone or whatever hell the government named it. As long as there was a piece of paper that said ‘you can’ you are free to do as you want.

He was helpless. No one could help hum. Until he heard a rumor. A rumor about it. A thing that would hunt down whoever you wanted if you left a picture. However, you should be ready to pay a terrible price. The man laughed at the thought. I had nothing to lose he thought. So he printed a picture of the bastard, put it in an envelope and left it where the rumors said you should. Either it worked and he died or it was all just a joke and his misery would continue. Either way it did not matter.

Now here he waited, shaking and staring at the news with the hope that they would announce his death. Every night in the last week he sit waiting into the long hours after twelve. But nothing came. Nothing came…

He got up to turn it off when he heard the name of his hated enemy on the news. He sat back into the couch as the news reported his death.

“Yes!” He sprang up. Yes! I did it! It worked! He’s dead! The news continued in the background as the man danced around his apartment. Even if he had lost everything, the bastard would enjoy none of his wins. He drank the last of his drink as he looked back at the tv.

“According to the police,” the anchor began. “The place was a ruin, with blood everywhere. The entire family was massacred.” At that the man froze. Family? No, no, no, no, no. That was not supposed to happen. He was the only one who was supposed to die. The air froze, the anchor’s voice faded as the man fell on his knees. This was not supposed to happen, they were not supposed to die. Only him? Only the bastard who ruined him. A creek echoed in the room and he froze again. He turned and saw a figure standing in the shadows, it’s shape unlike nothing he has ever seen. Another creek echoed and he froze again. The figure moved forward. One step at a time. And as the moonlight shined over the figure the man’s eyes widened, sweat slipped down his face, and his hands shook without stop.

A monster. A monster with stretched out skin over mechanical appendages, a head that resembled a horrifying mix between a person and an insect. It stood far above anything the man has seen, so tall in fact that the creature had to bend down to fit. It stared at the frozen man, tilting its head from one side to the other as if studying him. Then a hand appeared from under it, a human hand, carrying something. The man looked down to see the head of his enemy, his face frozen in an expression of sheer terror. He looked back up at the creature who stared at him. “Pr… Pr…. Pri…”

“Price?” the man whispered. The creature nodded. It stepped back. The man got on his knees. “I have no money. But I can give you information. Anything!” The creature raised one of its appendages. “Please I’ll do anything!” he begged. The appendage came down.