#the way you write Nikto is so cool

[frogcereal29]

Nikto x savior!reader

So IDK what i was going for with this- but reader saves Nikto's life and he is... Grateful, in his own special Nikto way :)

Also Witten entirely in bulletpoints like hcs sjsgskshs cause heaven forbid I have to write a continuous story without any sudden jumpcuts when I can't come up with more shit to fill the space😭😭

Warning for military inaccuracies, mentions of religion, and google translated russian‼️ also nikto's thoughts are a bit obsessive. 18+ preferably

- He thought it was over. The building was about to collaspe, almost everyone else had been able to get out, but he was injured in the leg, and the fire was surrounding him. It wasn't the worst way to go, he supposed, a bit unmemorable. But who remembers a nobody anyways? Thats all he was.

- "You're not going to die." a voice? He knows that voice.

- you were one of his teammates, he recognized you from trainings and mealtimes, you never stood out to him before though. Just another body. But now. You were attempting to hoist him over your shoulder, despite him being so much bigger than you.

- "что? What did you say?" He rasps, voice weak. The smoke was starting to get to him. It didn't help he's been smoking for years, making his lungs shitty as can be.

- "I said, you're not going to die. We're not going to die." You seemed so self-assured, despite the seeming hopelessness of the situation, you started down a path yet to be touched by the flames, but one that was in the process of collasping, meaning you had to act fast. Jogging your way through the smoke, trying to keep your breathing steady.

- He knew you could go faster if you would just drop him. You would've been out of the building by now.

- "Just drop me. Im dead weight." He begs, his vision clouding as oxygen struggled to find its way to his lungs. His body trembled, his eyes stung and watered. But he wasnt scared. No.

- his time with Zakhaev taught him there are fates much worser than death. He's seen enough to last a lifetime, so he wouldn't mind dying so you could live, even if he didn't really know or care about you.

- "No." Was all you said back. So defiantly to a man who could kill your smaller form so quickly, of course, he was in no state to do so, but your firm rejection shocked him. He usually didn't have to ask twice for things, people usually understood what he was about and listened the first time.

- "We're not going to get out in time, save yourself. ты идиот? ты на самоубийственной миссии?" He cursed you off in Russian, flying right into one of your ears, and right back out the other.

- And then you did the absolute unthinkable. You were consoling him. Muttering phrases of reassurance and comfort. What the fuck?

- "you're going to be ok.", "Keep breathing.", "The team needs you Nikto.", "We need you."

- to say he was shook would be an understatement. You weren't technically doing anything wrong. And it wasnt like he'd never received help before. But never in his goddamn life, or at least never in this field of work, had anyone ever been so gentle and caring about it. To a stranger none the less. Yes, you were teammates through the PMC you both worked for, but that was the extent of your relationship prior to this, you had no worldly reason to risk your life for him, yet here you were. It dumbfounded him.

- you come to an exit, only to find it swarmed with flames. The only way out, you were surely doomed.

- "hang on." You said, and started running. Nikto would've screamed at you had he anymore strength. He was right, you were a suicidal lunitac, even moreso than him.

- congrats, you've startled nikto (I wouldn't say scared, he doesn't get scared to often) running into the wall of flames. He closed his eyes.

- It only lasted a second or two, nikto felt the flames brush his skin, and no doubt yours too. Searing away any exposed hairs on your body and face. But you flew through the doorway and stumbled out into the grass.

- when the coolness of the night air flew in through his mask holes, he shivered. How you two survived, he genuinely didn't know.

- He had abandoned all his faith, God ignored his cries and prayers when he was being tortured, something Nikto could never forgive, but in this moment he was thanking him again. Not just for his safety, but for the angel he just sent him. Thats what you must be. An angel. It wasn't his time and God sent this angel to carry him to safety.

- seconds later, the building completely collasped, but like a sick ass action movie, you didn't look back. Carrying Nikto to safety.

- When your walkie talkie catches a singal, asking for your status and reporting Nikto's MIA status. The team, whereever they regrouped, must've noticed your absence.

- "alive." You say informally into the walkie, "Nikto is with me." You report back, Nikto tunes you out as you dicuss further plans of meet up with your team, Nikto is just thinking about you.

- it isn't long until the team came to your aid, the combat nurse who came along on the mission took Nikto from your arms, and checked you down for injuries as well.

- everything ended up working out, the mission was a success despite some of the causalities, and you and Nikto made it out alive with only minor outter injuries and a bit of internal damage from the smoke inhalation, nothing you two couldn't sleep off in the hospital.

- life for you went back to normal after everything was said and done. But Nikto? Oh no. No no no. You changed everything for him. He would repay you, somehow, someway. He owed the angel his life. Eго ангел.

- everyone except you seems to take notice of a pattern immediately: wherever you were, Nikto would start showing up too. His previously reclusive behavior abandoned as he put himself in more social situations around base simply to be in the same room as you.

- maybe someone will eventually point it out to you, if it doesn't eventually become painfully obvious, finding flowers and russian chocolates outside your door all the time.

- hell, some nights you wake up in a sweat from a nightmare, and swear you can sometimes see a figure standing in the corner of your barracks, and a gentle voice distantly whispering to you, still delirious and sleepy.

- "Тсс, ангел, это всего лишь сон, я защищу тебя так же, как ты защитил меня."

- Your kindness wss like a drug in his head. He almost wants to injure himself on purpose nearby you, maybe you'd scoop him up, kiss his forehead, and tell him everything was going to be alright.

- Maybe you'd personally wrap his wounds and carry him back to your bed, and lay with him. He was sure he'd heal faster having you around, his pain always went away when you were near.

- His thoughts get a little deranged from time to time, but he tries to be so controlled with you, his little bird. And he is. He never acts out around you, even when everyone is being annoying and he has to stare off into the distance real still or else he's going to snap and kill everyone here. The last thing he wants is to scare you.

- He may be Nobody, but you, that fateful day, made him feel like a somebody. You brought back a small piece of Andre. And he will forever be yours. Please accept him, angel. He will take such good care of you

(ty for reading! If you haven't read but would like to check out my nikto and krueger hcs thei under the tag #lexwrites, its in my search too on my blog so yeah ;3 hope you enjoyed I love yall /p)

[kyumisyumi]

Duet

It would've probably made more sense for me to write this about Soap but there's tonnes of Soap content and I'm tryna feed the starving.

Warning: Quickly written, barely proof read

Ship: Nikto x Banshee!Reader (F)

Word count: 1k

⊱⊶Taking requests⊷⊰

It was like throwing up pins and needles, using your voice after so long. The sounds clawed against your throat as if begging to never see the light of day. Your own song fighting to return to the darkness of your vocal chords, wishing to never be uttered. But this wasn't your song anymore and that's why it needed to be sung. Needed to be released into the cool air to meet the oracles in the stars. It was an ugly tune; gargles and keening as your emotions morphed into rancid sound. Your bloodline had ended decades ago. You remember the moment the elder, happy without child, closed her eyes for the last time. The final composer of your songs laid for eternal slumber with a smile turned towards your distant figure. Her end marked the beginning of your hibernation. A solemn existence. You lied to yourself that it was a prize for centuries of dutiful work, but loneliness festered inside your core as your wondered for years without purpose.

Then came the sound; timber against timber. The click of a composer's wand. Something you never thought you'd hear ever again. Click click. You were being summoned. Called for by Death to let you know your job was not finished. Like a hound to its name, you followed it. Your apprehension and confusion weighed heavy but no force inside you was stronger than the instincts pumping through your inhuman form. Click click. Like children to a dinner bell, you followed it. The fabrics draped around your greyish body clipping in and out of reality, snagging on branches when it unfortunately caught only to dissolve into mist. Stones and twigs piercing your feet before phasing through your ethereal form. Click click. Like sunflowers to the morning rays, you followed it. Something inside you beating feverously; a life that wasn't your own cradled within your chest. Click click. Like a magazine into a gun, because that's exactly what it was. When the thrumming inside your chest calmed down, you could finally hear the sounds of gunfire whizzing through the air. Hoof beats storming the ground revealed to be the boots of man. Soldiers. They bolted through the concrete and dirt of wrecked structures, firing their weapons into their own kind. None of that mattered to you however, you had seen war plenty of times. All that mattered were the clicks that called for your song and the person holding the gun. Click click.

It alarmed him, naturally, when he began to hear the eerie melody of a woman's song. It first reached him amidst a fitful attempt at rest within his small tent. Nikto wasn't sure what to make of it. Another case of his mind playing tricks on him? That the enemy had released hallucinogens into the air? However, when he'd asked his comrades if they heard it too all he'd received were worried looks in response. It was in his head then. Was this karma? Had all the lives he'd taken conspire in the afterlife to haunt him? If so, this was an odd tactic; to sing him hymns rather than rip his soul from his flesh to drag it down where he belonged. He'd tired himself out clawing at the walls of his mind, trying to find a source within. And so he just listened, all of him. It drove him insane almost as much as it brought him peace. Words he could not decipher being whispered in a tune unknown yet somehow familiar. A song that wasn't in his memory but somewhere deeper, somewhere more him than he could ever conceptualize. No matter how much it unnerved him to hear this mysterious singing, the way it warmed his body and stilled his mind became a drug to him. If this was a new level of madness, he had little complaints.

When he heard it in the midst of battle, the effects were reversed; it riled him up rather than calm him down. Like the being was singing life into him. It diffused into his skin to settle within the nerves and muscles beneath his flesh, pushing him ever forward. It whispered truths he'd always known. That he was a harbinger of death, a machine of violence serving those who wrote his cheques. How he felt about it made no difference to what he was. Nobody. Not a person, just a weapon. It felt almost blasphemous to commit acts of cruelty to music so beautiful but his body called for it. A head he'd bashed into a wall, a spine snapped beneath his feet, this bloodshed was his offering to the being that sang for him. To the unknown creature that had decided to take up residence in his mind.

This felt right, this felt like destiny. Nikto carved his path into the enemy stars like the bullet through his chest. Falling to his knees like a man in prayer before laying to meet the Gods.

It was only then that you went to his side, looking into the confused blue eyes of your composer. They searched yours, forgetting where he was and what he was doing as the shrouds of your body filled his vision.

"женщина[woman], sing for me." His voice was much like the metal instruments he played.

You held his hand in both your own, watching the calm slip into his eyes as he listened to your ugly wails. You'd heard the lyrics he filled in. Oh, how they made your heart bleed. But now, in his final moments, you sing to him in words he could understand. Serenade him with the truth of who he was, cradling him to hide his tears. The thumping in your chest was slowing down as your song mellowed to it's end. The final verse came in the sound of a rattle.

[1-ker0sene-1]

Midnight thought

Y'know what's weird? Gaz erasure is fucking weird. And the way people justify it is weird. Like just shoving König in the scenario instead?? He's not in the same team. He's not in the campaigns. I just don't understand.

"He's a cool character"

Yes sure. But guess what. So it's Nikto. So is Farah. So is Rudy. Alejandro. You don't see a lot of people shoving them in place of Gaz. Sorry but y'all just saw the first masked big dude besides Ghost and said "yeah sure I'll replace the one POC in the 141 with him."

This isn't even König hate, like I think he's cool. There's just not enough character there for me personally to write about. I like his voice lines, the whole sniper ambition. But there's not much else of him.

But GAZ???? Crazy. Insane. How are more people NOT writing about the amazingly paced development there? The way he's forced to question and put aside his morals. Losing the innocent facade that "the military is just here to protect people" cause now he's gonna have to make the shitty decisions cause yes, people will die, but maybe it will be less people in the end.

Fr I'm writing up more stuff for him cause damn. Gaz erasure confuses me more every day.

[cerosin-bis]

Hello!! I hope you're well, do you have any headcanons for the Jackals operators?

Answering this almost a month later (I'm so sorry), work is actively beating my ass along other personal stuff piling up but I am god's bravest soldier. anyway. I hope YOU 🫵 are well!!

Thank you for the ask, I'm delighted to write some Jackals headcanons. I miss them I miss the African team leader from mw19 so BAD 🥺

They have very good synergy, the main disagreements are usually between Grinch (world's most STUBBORN) and Zane. Azur and Mace are diplomats at heart.

Grinch misses Roze. He still sees her around base but he liked when she was actively working with them. (Legend says she's the only one who knows of Grinch's family)

Off work, they get along with Chimera the most. Azur doesn't like Shadow Company and the way they operate (too shady) (said while he's himself w the Jackals involved in arms trafficking and stuff.). Grinch has a grudge because they got Roze. They're purely professional with the Spetsnaz. Nikto and Mace don't know that they share the same music tastes and that's a shame. But they really just like hanging out with most of the Chimera ops, they have very compatible personalities, morals and humour.

Zane and Grinch often offer for all of them to go out for drinks or a fancy restaurant once in a while. Mace rolls his eyes and Azur thinks they don't 'need it'.... but all 4 of them love eating so they end up going anyway.

Azur is arguably the quietest of them all but he's also by FAR the funniest. He also has a million cool stories to tell (and hates being interrupted when he recounts them). Also funny I wrote this BEFORE rereading these excellent jackals headcanons by @modernghostfare simply it's Azur's vibes

[unhingedpolycule]

Do you have any good Nikto fic reccs? Krugernikto fics especially?

OHHHHH here we go. There are 46 Works in the Krueger/Nikto tag on Ao3, but these are some nice ones (all on Ao3):

First off, we have “Harpoons” and “Formalities” by C10H22. They write wonderful things and I love all of their works, those are just my favorites, but they have E-rated stuff as well. (If you are there, give their Krueger/Blaustein stuff a read, I love it so much and re-read it regularly, even if its not my main ship and it also goes well with a later Krueger/Nikto pipeline.) I can very much recommend their tumblr @cerosin-bis as well, they are very friendly and deserve some love for the absolute service they provided for this fandom (they have this cool mad max AU… CHECK IT OUT!)

“Grotesque Beauty” by Deceasedcut is nice as well, I don’t know much about the author, but I can recommend this one.

“Sweet Relief” by Gokus_pubic_hairs (what a username!) is something nice and fluffy. I read it and grinned all the way through. Ooc, but in a good way :)

My unsolicited advice: I have been REALLY into Krueger/Nikto/Rodion lately, so I will recommend “View” by isototes and “Private Hearing” by C10H22. I wrote “Second Man” in their pipeline and its just an awesome setting those two came up with!

Thanks for the ask, I actually got to compile my favorite works! (Gotta re-read some of them tonight :D

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

I had to get out of my cave to say this:

RA (Ravishing Allure) is unmistakable and beautifully written.

I have to confess that I've put it on my shelf for a while. - I was on my soap era and didn't know about Nikto yet. But the way you write has me hooked, so I read everything in one day.

The way you twisted the common colorblind AU + a kinda reversed Beauty and the Beast into something unique and painstakingly tragic had me dying to have a look at your brain. Seriously, how can someone have so much great ideas, that was genial!

The way you were subtly telling us things and the way we get the revelation of Nikto's own secrets later in the chapters it's spot on. Don't even get me started on the suspense and the Sherlock Holmes's vibes every time there is someone new or someone acts weird. - I've been doubting myself!

I also got so happy to see you relying on a valid reason for Seraph to be so clumsy. I see a lot of people writing it somewhat lazily, and I can't say how many times someone tripped in the air while having no problem doing acrobatics later on a book. It's refreshing!

As always the metaphors you add into the descriptions make me wanna print them and put them on my wall to take inspiration from when I'm writing.

Sending love and multiple thanks for my favorite cod writer,

- 🍅

(PS: I'm studying russian currently, and I got super happy when I could translate some of Nikto's dialogs!)

This is so lovely, thank you!! RA is definitely one of my top favorites to write for, and I'm super happy you like it as well - it's 100% something that I'm proud has come so far. I'm also happy that it's introducing so many people to Nikto's character - I think he's super cool and it was one of my reasons for creating a series for him!

But, again, thank you!! Your praise is so heartwarming.

[nrdmssgs]

How to not motivate your favorite author to write

So recently this happened to a very dear friend of mine. And then this happened. I'm not tagging her deliberately, to not drag her name into any shitshow. I love her dearly and will fight with tooth and claw for this person.

I will be referring to my personal experience not because I want to make this 'a story about precious me', but because I can guarantee, that overall pattern of creative process will go along with these examples, and I don't want to torture others with interviews on their particular creative process examples.

I want to address that anon and talk a bit about how creative processes work. I am not a writer, but I have two art degrees, so I just happen to know a thing or two about creativity and its ways in human brains.

How creative process differs from creative outcome

Imagine a situation: you roam around your favorite network and find this one cool author, that seems to create something especially for you. I like their characters, their storyline, their ways with the language and overall scenery. You and them seems like a match made in heavens. There is only one 'but': you crave more.

You find your perfect fic, you read every chapter and end on a painful cliffhanger, poor you? But what if I tell you, that to complete this chapter, your favorite author had to process a ton of information, their own suggestions, 'what ifs', questions around every single detail, different dialogue and action options? What you see is a perfectly cut ice cube, but it took a freaking iceberg to make it. By the way, the same goes for illustrations. Remember this short comix?

Well, it took a day to create it, and actually drawing it took only 4 hours. Another 8 hours were spent on concept. Here are just 2 pages of my ideas, and I have like 8 pages of this.

And sometimes authors don't even write down their draft thoughts, but it doesn't mean, these thoughts doesn't exist. We are thinking about our stories while going for groceries, driving a car, doing laundry, taking shower and so on.

So if you read something, that is one-page long - it doesn't mean, that your favorite author spent an average 'fill one page with text' time interval to create it. You are reading an outcome, while the author went through the entire creative process!

How creating one thing may help you to create another thing

Sometimes you need to practice, just to get to know a new character/situation.

I had such difficulties, writing Nikto, that I wrote this and this just to bring this marvelous character to the latest part of my ongoing series. Yes, it took me a month to figure out this character, but it was worth it. So please, bear with an author, that makes little attempts, before going back to their magnum opus. Sketches and renders can and will help them evaluate the story, that you`ve fallen in love with in the first place!

Sometimes you need a break.

If you thought, reading some angst was not easy - just know, that writing it was also not easy. Sometimes authors speak on deeply personal topics, sometimes they express their negative emotions through hard and draining scenes and stories.

And before you say 'oh, but the author knew in advance what is yet to happen' - let me remind you, that the author relieves everything, their characters go through.

Creating something completely knew helps author to gain powers, to take a step further, to breathe and calm down.

Sometimes you just feel like shit.

You wake up, revisit, what you wrote yesterday, and you hate it. And you hate yourself for setting the bar so low. And a very right thing to do at this moment is to get yourself distracted by something completely new. Or even to force yourself to not go back to creating for a bit, so that your 'creativity muscles' get some rest.

So please don't be disappointed by your favorite creator for paying attention to other media/fandom/story/character. It may be their way (long and complicated) to go back to that very work, you liked so much.

What doesn't motivate authors

Punching them with 'hey, stop whatever you're doing and go back to that thing, I LIKED'. This will only make your fave creator freeze in a cycle of self-hate, diffidence, art blocks.

Comparison of their works. "Your Ghost fics are top, so stop writing about Gaz and turn into a full time Ghost praiser". Again, this won't motivate your fave to change their writing habits or preferences, this will make them fill guilty every single time they create something against your preferences. That 10-30-50 sketches with Gaz will eventually help them go back and write something for Ghost!

[keysorsomething]

This just came to me like randomly and idk how you’d write it but it’s funny to me to imagine the spetsnaz with like a reader who they all have a platonic relationship who’s bones pop randomly so much, I’m a 19 yr old girl and my back and elbows pop like I’m 60😭 I think it would be funny just to imagine it like creeping one of them out with how much readers bones pop, I was doing pull ups once and literally like 5 things popped from me hanging on the bar

This was sure an interesting one to think about

sorry if it's shorter than normal I didn't know what else to do lol

Request Page !!

It scares Rodion, for sure

I imagine he would pretend he was much tougher than he actually was, and that in reality he gets startled very easily

You think he'd get used to it eventually, but he doesn't

He flinches so much every time it happens, but the first time he genuinely had to grab onto the nearest member for support

Bale is just damn concerned, he doesn't think that's quite right

He doesn't go out of his way to force you into anything, but he does make sure you get food first

Minotaur views it as a cool party trick

He introduces you to people and then stares until you start showing it off with a fully blank face

Nikto is not a fan

He was the one Rodion grabbed

That is the only thing he thinks about

Damn those fucking bones making him get touched on the shoulder for five seconds

Probably gently shakes his head and pats wherever the bones pop out until you stop if no one's looking

Put that shoulder blade where it BELONGS

[ooops-i-arted]

What do you think are the characteristics of your personal writing style? Tell us the meta about your writing that you really want to ramble to people about (symbolism you’ve included, character or relationship development that you love, hidden references, callbacks or clues for future scenes?)

Characteristics?  Words words wooooooooooords!  I love finding just the right word or turn of phrase to get across what I’m trying to deliver.  Two words might be in the same thesaurus entry but they mean different things and I always want to pick the exact one I want.  Vocabulary is important and also I just love words.  I literally read the dictionary as a child.

As far as tropes I favor, y’all know I love me some rampaging and action even though those scenes are always so tricky to write.  I adore rescues.  Arc words and color symbolism.  Any sort of “Character A doesn’t want to do this but for Character B they will” sort of thing, platonic or romantic.  I like my good characters Good and my bad characters Bad.  Like I’m not opposed to shades of grey at all, but I prefer a generally defined line between good and bad in my fiction.  Also, I like good characters that do good Because It’s The Right Thing To Do, because I feel that’s missing a lot anymore, and it’s Important.

Meta about my own writing?  Yeah let’s go right into ACCPOV because I worked damn hard on it and I’m proud of it.

Baby’s arc words are “warm and safe and happy” and the phrase gradually evolves throughout the fic(s).  (It’s a series on AO3 but I think of all of season 1 as one fic, just divided into different works by episode for convenience.)  At first he starts with warm and safe, because that’s his baseline for being happy.  But gradually he starts to truly feel safe and happy with Din, and applies those words to Din in particular.

In general I paid attention to Baby’s vocabulary so much because I was constantly having to keep track of what words he did/didn’t know.  And episodes 1-3 I kept the vocabulary and phrasing very limited, to keep him sounding very childlike and choppy, but 4 and on his narration smooths out to represent how he is starting to grow and develop under Din’s care.  So it’s still childlike but gradually sounds more mature.

Every chapter title is formatted after the show’s episode titles, except for Scruples, which is formatted after Redemption.  Since Redemption is everything finally coming to a head, and Scruples is the culmination of Baby’s emotional development over the course of the fic.  He’s terrified and frustrated and angry, but he ultimately decides to trust Din despite his fear, which is a huge step for a kid his age.

Also in general Baby’s motivations and depictions of his canon actions are inspired by Jedi philosophy.  Choking Cara is Dark Side because while he was motivated in part by protecting Din, he’s afraid of losing his dad and angry that Cara is being “mean” and just generally jealous that everyone else is taking up Din’s time.  Whereas Baby broiling the flame trooper is Light Side, because he was motivated to protect Din and their friends and keep them safe.

I decided to have Baby just register people as Gone throughout most of it to keep that childlike innocence, not truly understanding what’s happening, and only start to use the words “kill” or “die” in Redemption.  I always wanted it clear he had been exposed to a lot of violence and normalized it, but still keep a little distance from it.  That’s going to keep evolving in Season 2; at the beginning of The Marshal he is 100% aware that Dad is killing people and is continuing to normalize violence WAY more than any child should.

“Baby casually mentioning something that was NOT casual” is one of my favorite things to throw in tbh.  Like “Wow Dad sure didn’t like it when I opened the weapons cabinet!”  Just the contrast between how Baby sees things and how Din (and us readers) see things.

Everyone’s Least Favorite Nikto, Yarull, was originally supposed to be mildly neglectful but I upgraded him to abusive shithead so Baby has a convenient way to compare his old and new life and how he’s treated.  Also every time Yarull is mentioned in a chapter I get at least 5 comments of “fuck that guy specifically” and it always makes me smile.

Everyone introduces themselves by name as soon as possible in the fic because while they’re funny, picking those Baby Yoda Nicknames gets old fast lmao.  Say your names in canon, people!!!  (Except Toro.  You will always be Fuzzy Eyebrows.  Get rekt.)

I’m afraid I don’t have anything exciting to say about most of my AU fics, since honestly my approach to those is just “act out cool stories with my action figures except I’m just doing it in my head” + “Hey you know what would be interesting.”  And the 101 Yoditos AU is just me going nuts with my passion for child development AND my passion for Baby Yoda/The Mandalorian (and varactyls).

[infinitedevilengine]

I heard you were having trouble remembering a gang of Devils.  I am familiar with many, but perhaps these were the ones you were thinking about? "The Mastermind" Name: Madame Nayalsithus Wroughthand Type: Gold Nayalsithus is the leader, but she has great contempt for the others in this ensemble; the gang being an obvious side job/tax shelter for her outside of more devious plots.  That, or a convenient squad of disposable fools for an impossible heist.  She makes a point in every conversation to let you know she has better things to be doing.  Nayalsithus is about two heads taller than a typical human.  Her build is slender, and she is clad in only the finest of silks.  Red and blue and violet... Bearing such striking and elaborate golden patterns that one shudders to imagine how time consuming their crafting would be.  Her jewelry is almost exclusively loose fitting golden bands, and she jangles them loudly to drown out the talking of those she is not fond of (which are many).  Her mask is fair and clean, apart from patterns around her eyes that resemble a traditional costume mask.  It is difficult to say whether her mask actually looks like this, or she has fused an additional mask OVER it.  She caries no weapon, as any true mastermind knows to make others do the fighting for you.  That, and Nayalsithus only enjoys battle if she is able to tear her foes apart with her bare hands and razor sharp teeth.  Writes some truly atrocious poetry. Catchphrase: "I didn't give you permission to speak!" "The Face" Name: Groolsworth Gregory Gila Gaidensboro Type: Green While Nayalsithus is the one technically in charge, Groolsworth does most of the day to day work.  His charm is more a force of will than actual charisma, that American car salesman ability to easily crossfade from being your best friend to extorting you.  Most would agree that when dealing with Groolsworth, he makes way too much physical contact.  About the size and shape of a typical human male, Groolsworth can easily blend into a crowd when need be.  He has 5 eyes dotted around his skull shaped mask and, fortunately for business, the "shifty" looking ones are on the sides of his head.  Groolsworth is clad in a baggy and unflattering suit which he designed himself.  This patchwork disaster is crafted from his favorite bits and pieces of any suit his victims might be fortunate enough to be wearing.  Only the most garish of colors and patterns are to Groolsworth's liking.  He is gleefully unaware that this isn't how suits work.  Beneath the suit, his mantis-like wings are tucked in back, and his third and fourth arm are tucked in the front.   Here, he coddles his prized collection of only the most technologically advanced repeating pistols.  Some of his favorites are currently broken, but he still keeps them on his person because they look cool.  His voice sounds like Cobra Commander. Catchphrase: "Let ME do the talking." "The Bruiser" Name:  Densrick Wrysincroft, The Tyrant's Bootheel Type: Red Big, loud, and violent, Densrick plays the typical Red.  An imposing wall of muscle, towering at 7'9" (though he insists he is 8' tall).  His horns are thick and spiral forward like that of a ram, the left horn split and shattered.  Densrick will tell you that it's always been like that.   His mask shows all manner of damage, splits and cracks.  A spot near his left cheek is crushed in like a hard boiled egg.  Densrick would tell you that he is never struck in the face, he simply headbutts his foe's weapons.  This statement is at least 20% true.  Two stubby tusks flank each side of his mouth and two cigars are frequently pressed to his lips.  The cigars are held by an elaborate, decorative clasp which is probably just a ladies hair clip he found somewhere.  His grotesque tail splits 3/4 of the way to the tip, one gnarled twig jutting from one gnarled branch.  It either healed this way, or he simply has a very ugly tail.  Thick, matted hair falls down to his waist; the occasional sloppy braid can be found where it was given up on.  You will find him clad in a thick, furred battle robe and accompanying armor plates and pads.  Most of the armor is severely damaged, making it much less functional as armor, but Densrick stubbornly continues wearing it because it makes him look more badass.  His weapons are numerous, but almost exclusively axes.  He says they are: "like me, handsome and to the point." (Metsuki: Doncha mean heavy and DULL?! Ha..! HahaHAHAHA!!!).  On his back is strapped a massive battleaxe for foes larger than him.  To his right flank, a double headed axe for typical encounters.  And to his left flank is a humble hatchet that he saves for only his most despised of foes, for crushing insects and other vermin, and as his primary eating utensil.  He cleans this hatchet less than he cleans himself.   Catchphrase: "Finally, some action!" "The Acrobat" Name: Metsuki Traesiko Cadence Raincloud Cream Sunday Type: Blue Most would agree that past a certain threshold, a daredevil goes from being very brave to simply insane.  Metsuki has plummeted well past this threshold with no parachute and no plan.  She thoroughly enjoys teasing her comrades, as well as her foes and also complete strangers.   Incredibly talented and always eager, her general mischief and grating laughter are somewhat outweighed by being "too good to get rid of."  At about 4' tall she is small relative to a human, but still gigantic when compared to the numerous rodent sized Blues.  The horns of her mask curve backwards akin to ears.  Here, she tucks her hair's thick twin braids so that they don't flop about as she does.  Metsuki is clad in breezy urban wear fit for a girl on the go.  Sneakers that pump up, gym shorts, top tied at the waist with some sassy graphic on the front.   Buttoned at her neck and over her shoulders is an embroidered jacket.   Beneath this jacket is where she deftly hides her tools of the trade.   Hooks and ropes and wires...  Metsuki's right leg is missing from halfway down her hip, in it's place is a mechanical prosthetic.  This prosthetic is spring-loaded and can launch her about three stories upwards.  This spring action can also be used as something of a crossbow, though this feature isn't very practical.  The prosthetic is also filled with heavy explosives for all sorts of occasions.  Metsuki may or may not have intentionally dismembered herself for this fancy new leg.  While given to all types of thievery, she is most fond of gilded goblets and bejeweled drink receptacles.  She keeps her collection in a great pile in her room.  On this pile, she will frequently sleep as it is very uncomfortable and smells softly of liquor.  Next to this pile, she has a separate stash of pilfered novelty coffee mugs.  Metsuki doesn't really understand her compulsion for taking these things and kind of hates herself for it. Catchphrase: "I don't think we're gonna make it THIS time, guys... Hahhha..! AhHAHAHAHA!!!" "The Mechanic" Name: Mitchell Tripwire Trap Grease Monkey Clack Click Clamp Tap Paddy Wack Sack Barada Nikto Achu Bless Yu Just A Regular Guy Smith Johnson Jr. With Cheese, Hold The PicklesType: Pale The humble Pale Devil Mitchell is probably the most useful of the bunch, and he doesn't even need to be payed!  Mitchell is small, barely 3' in height.  His slight stature aiding in both his work and deployment.  He wears a simple slate grey cloak, under which are several belts that serve as hangers for his numerous tools.  At his right hip is his most prized and useful tool, a heavy 3 1/4" monkey wrench.  It is also his most prized and useful weapon (His second most prized and useful tool is an 9" long phillips head screwdriver.  This is also his second most prized and useful weapon).  He is blessed with six arms, but four are too small to be very helpful.  They mostly just pass tools around under his cloak.  When not in service, Mitchell is carried around in a small crate by Groolsworth.  Through a hole at the top of this crate, Groolsworth will feed Mitchell the bits and pieces of those he interrogates.  Oh no, you won't be getting those fingers back!   Groolsworth tends to obnoxiously linger on the "L"s of Mitchell's name when addressing him, or to derisively refer to him as "Pickles" when he is in a bad mood (which is often).  Mitchell has a great passion for the theatre and other staged arts.   Catchphrase: "..." I hope this jogs your memory of those Devils you were trying to think of!  And if these weren't the right guys, you should probably try to hang out with them sometime!  They're a blast, and they might not even kill you.  Well, until we meet again... From your friend, Chip Champion