The Masked Renegade/History
From Unofficial Handbook of the Virtue Universe
SESSION ONE
Dear Diary,
SPAACE!Hey, the name's Clyde Slater but I'm also secretly the Masked Renegade. Considered to be a living martyr and a menace. Yeah, it's complicated. I'm sorry we had to meet under forced circumstances. What do I mean? Well, I'm not writing to you (in you?) out of sheer impulse. I'm afraid to say that I'm writing to you under orders from a doctor. That's right, a doctor, honey. And who am I to refuse a doctor's orders?
SPAACE!"What kinda doctor?" is what you would probably ask had you the ability to speak. I don't exactly know the proper title, but she's a shrink, head-doctor, psychologist... whatever! I'm seeing this shrink because I've noticed more and more everyday that there is a correlation between madness and superheroism. There's always personality/psychological disorders with these wackadoos, and I just don't wanna end up like them.
SPAACE!What has all of that got to do with you? Dr. Gamble claims to understand the gravity of the security of my identity, so instead of spilling her all the deets (That's short for details), you will shoulder the burden of my maniacal thoughts. I pretty much come to her office twice a month, and diary it up; Talk or ask questions if I need to, but mainly just write this out. It's a win-win sitch (short for situation); I get psychological therapy, and she gets to publish her findings of whatever this diary, you, will produce. There are special instructions for Dr. Gamble to receive you in the case that I kick the bucket. Kinda like insurance. So that my story gets out there. Well, time's up!
Sucks for you,
SPAACE!Clyde Slater aka the Masked Renegade
SPAACE!Hey, the name's Clyde Slater but I'm also secretly the Masked Renegade. Considered to be a living martyr and a menace. Yeah, it's complicated. I'm sorry we had to meet under forced circumstances. What do I mean? Well, I'm not writing to you (in you?) out of sheer impulse. I'm afraid to say that I'm writing to you under orders from a doctor. That's right, a doctor, honey. And who am I to refuse a doctor's orders?
SPAACE!"What kinda doctor?" is what you would probably ask had you the ability to speak. I don't exactly know the proper title, but she's a shrink, head-doctor, psychologist... whatever! I'm seeing this shrink because I've noticed more and more everyday that there is a correlation between madness and superheroism. There's always personality/psychological disorders with these wackadoos, and I just don't wanna end up like them.
SPAACE!What has all of that got to do with you? Dr. Gamble claims to understand the gravity of the security of my identity, so instead of spilling her all the deets (That's short for details), you will shoulder the burden of my maniacal thoughts. I pretty much come to her office twice a month, and diary it up; Talk or ask questions if I need to, but mainly just write this out. It's a win-win sitch (short for situation); I get psychological therapy, and she gets to publish her findings of whatever this diary, you, will produce. There are special instructions for Dr. Gamble to receive you in the case that I kick the bucket. Kinda like insurance. So that my story gets out there. Well, time's up!
Sucks for you,
SPAACE!Clyde Slater aka the Masked Renegade
SESSION TWO
Dear Journal,
SPAACE!Chyeah, shakin' your name up a bit until I can think of a better one, because writing to an inanimate object saddens me. We've got a lot of ground to cover, and where better to start than the beginning?
SPAACE!Once upon a time, there was this scruffy kid named Clyde. Before he ever was THE Renegade, he was A renegade. A rebel, an outlaw, a revolter... Check the rest of the thesaurus for synonyms. Renegade is under R. Go ahead. I'll wait.
SPAACE! Overall, Clyde just seemed like a bad apple.He had an instinctive distrust of authoritative figures, caste systems/social hierarchies, injustice, and girls. In his defense, they had cooties. He was disrespectful to his teachers, he was a loner, he got into a lot of fights, and he seemed perpetually angry. It was believed that it was a phase he would soon grow out of, but as the years progressed, it proved embedded in who he was. Well, he did outgrow the hating girls thing.
SPAACE!Was Clyde just a rebel without a cause, or was there something else fueling his rebellion? Maybe because his dad blamed Clyde for his wife's death; Clyde's mom died giving birth to him. His dad never blamed Clyde verbally... it was instead whippy, and leathery. (Don't cry me a river! It's in the past... although... it could contribute to the future of my mental stability. Hmm... Well, back to third person.) Perhaps he inherited his mom's protester-eee-ness. Or mebbeh it was just that his eyes were of the few that saw injustice plaguing Praetoria.
SPAACE!His father vented through giving Clyde a good ol' whippin', or searching the bottom of bottles for a time machine. Clyde, too, needed a way to vent. He at first was chaotic with his frustration; Whoever got in his way met his wrath (especially Miss Meaty Maddy). But he wasn't completely monstrous, he matured to direct his fury to those who deserved it. Bullies.
SPAACE!Now, unlike the stereotypical superhero, Clyde wasn't a naturally good fighter. He had to learn... the painful way. As a beginner, a noob, a scrapper, he got his ass beat, but he learned from each encounter, and only got better as he continued to fight. Eventually, bruises and black-eyes later, he became the best in the school, and then the best in the district. It wasn't just hard work, and experience, Clyde had added an ace up his sleeve.
SPAACE!Remember Meaty Maddy? The girl I mentioned a paragraph ago? Her mom was of the few that founded portal tech. They made contact with a universe referred to as Primal Earth, and while we sent them our finest literature and the Praetorian Manifesto, they sent us a shit ton of movies. Maddy and Clyde were friends then and watched all of 'em together. My... err... Clyde's favorite at the time? Any of the Bruce Lee movies. Clyde adopted Bruce Lee's style and incorporated that into his fights. A lot of Lee's philosophies are incredibly helpful. Try reading up on 'em, Journal. Oh, wait. You can't. You're just a journal. Time's up.
Muahahahaha,
SPAACE!Clyde.
SPAACE!Chyeah, shakin' your name up a bit until I can think of a better one, because writing to an inanimate object saddens me. We've got a lot of ground to cover, and where better to start than the beginning?
SPAACE!Once upon a time, there was this scruffy kid named Clyde. Before he ever was THE Renegade, he was A renegade. A rebel, an outlaw, a revolter... Check the rest of the thesaurus for synonyms. Renegade is under R. Go ahead. I'll wait.
SPAACE! Overall, Clyde just seemed like a bad apple.He had an instinctive distrust of authoritative figures, caste systems/social hierarchies, injustice, and girls. In his defense, they had cooties. He was disrespectful to his teachers, he was a loner, he got into a lot of fights, and he seemed perpetually angry. It was believed that it was a phase he would soon grow out of, but as the years progressed, it proved embedded in who he was. Well, he did outgrow the hating girls thing.
SPAACE!Was Clyde just a rebel without a cause, or was there something else fueling his rebellion? Maybe because his dad blamed Clyde for his wife's death; Clyde's mom died giving birth to him. His dad never blamed Clyde verbally... it was instead whippy, and leathery. (Don't cry me a river! It's in the past... although... it could contribute to the future of my mental stability. Hmm... Well, back to third person.) Perhaps he inherited his mom's protester-eee-ness. Or mebbeh it was just that his eyes were of the few that saw injustice plaguing Praetoria.
SPAACE!His father vented through giving Clyde a good ol' whippin', or searching the bottom of bottles for a time machine. Clyde, too, needed a way to vent. He at first was chaotic with his frustration; Whoever got in his way met his wrath (especially Miss Meaty Maddy). But he wasn't completely monstrous, he matured to direct his fury to those who deserved it. Bullies.
SPAACE!Now, unlike the stereotypical superhero, Clyde wasn't a naturally good fighter. He had to learn... the painful way. As a beginner, a noob, a scrapper, he got his ass beat, but he learned from each encounter, and only got better as he continued to fight. Eventually, bruises and black-eyes later, he became the best in the school, and then the best in the district. It wasn't just hard work, and experience, Clyde had added an ace up his sleeve.
SPAACE!Remember Meaty Maddy? The girl I mentioned a paragraph ago? Her mom was of the few that founded portal tech. They made contact with a universe referred to as Primal Earth, and while we sent them our finest literature and the Praetorian Manifesto, they sent us a shit ton of movies. Maddy and Clyde were friends then and watched all of 'em together. My... err... Clyde's favorite at the time? Any of the Bruce Lee movies. Clyde adopted Bruce Lee's style and incorporated that into his fights. A lot of Lee's philosophies are incredibly helpful. Try reading up on 'em, Journal. Oh, wait. You can't. You're just a journal. Time's up.
Muahahahaha,
SPAACE!Clyde.
SESSION THREE
Journey,
SPAACE!My main man/book. You've never been the same since Steve Perry left the group. Hah. Journey, the band, reference. Daily lame joke quota met. Aight, hombre. Let's start where we left off.
SPAACE!Clyde was a street fighting, rebellious punk, but if that wasn't bad enough, he was also a thief. Although daddy-o was abusive, Clyde still had that instinctive love. Love enough to support the household when his father was incapable.
SPAACE!At the time, and with his record, getting a normal job was out of the question. Clyde swiped food and cash only from those who wouldn't miss it; Y'know fat pockets, and giant guts. It started within school, and when that didn't prove sufficient, he took his act to the streets.
SPAACE!Swiping wallets began with a classic misdirection ploy, but he grew out of illusions and took it up a notch. BAM! Sleight-of-hand. In the blink of an eye, McLovin, your driver's license with the picture of you blinking, the condom you've had since high-school that you never got to use, credit cards with bills from Dildopolis and pen-island.com, and all the green presidents you had in your knock-off Louis Vuitton leather wallet would be gone. Btw (short for 'by the way'), you just got smoked. Disrespect, fighting, and thieving was not enough for young Clyde. He hungered for more.
SPAACE!It's not surprising that Clyde was attracted to the Hip-Hop culture. It's practically a rebellion culture. A culture that taught that sometimes fighting the current in the proverbial river of society was the only way. A culture that values honest self-expression. A culture for Clyde's creativity and emotions that didn't require bloody knuckles. It did, however, require bruises on his knees and elbows.
SPAACE!Clyde was tantalized by b-boying (or breakdancing. You ignorant journal). I won't go through the musicality, soul, spirituality aspect of it because as a foreigner to the culture, you just won't get it. Just know that it helped me achieve the dynamicism in my future fighting style, but not solely that. Know the ledge!
SPAACE!Graffiti. Truly a sacrificing art. An art not for the selfish, but for the giving. Eh, I won't bore you any further with that. Graffiti is tough in a city of psychics watching your every step before you even take one, but for some reason Clyde never had a problem. (Spoiler: He's/I'm a psychic.) He was influenced from an artist from a(n) (excellent) movie titled Exit Through the Giftshop, his name was Banksy. Like the vandals that preceded him, Clyde adopted a mask to avoid being made by security cameras or witnesses. Two masks actually. A black Zorro mask used from the previous Halloween, and a red bandanna to shield his mouth and nose from poisonous spraypaint fumes. Graffiti taught him to be sneaky, stealthy, climby, to see the city in a whole new way, and the importance of how to escape.
SPAACE!I know, I know... This really sounds like the steps to becoming something wicked. Well, you're half right 'cause I was on the path to becoming wicked... awesome! No normal person would simply shrug off villainy, Clyde hated what he had become. Bruce Lee would be ashamed.
SPAACE!With enough "earnings," Clyde retired from his life of crime. Temporarily anyways... PAUSE.
SPAACE!My main man/book. You've never been the same since Steve Perry left the group. Hah. Journey, the band, reference. Daily lame joke quota met. Aight, hombre. Let's start where we left off.
SPAACE!Clyde was a street fighting, rebellious punk, but if that wasn't bad enough, he was also a thief. Although daddy-o was abusive, Clyde still had that instinctive love. Love enough to support the household when his father was incapable.
SPAACE!At the time, and with his record, getting a normal job was out of the question. Clyde swiped food and cash only from those who wouldn't miss it; Y'know fat pockets, and giant guts. It started within school, and when that didn't prove sufficient, he took his act to the streets.
SPAACE!Swiping wallets began with a classic misdirection ploy, but he grew out of illusions and took it up a notch. BAM! Sleight-of-hand. In the blink of an eye, McLovin, your driver's license with the picture of you blinking, the condom you've had since high-school that you never got to use, credit cards with bills from Dildopolis and pen-island.com, and all the green presidents you had in your knock-off Louis Vuitton leather wallet would be gone. Btw (short for 'by the way'), you just got smoked. Disrespect, fighting, and thieving was not enough for young Clyde. He hungered for more.
SPAACE!It's not surprising that Clyde was attracted to the Hip-Hop culture. It's practically a rebellion culture. A culture that taught that sometimes fighting the current in the proverbial river of society was the only way. A culture that values honest self-expression. A culture for Clyde's creativity and emotions that didn't require bloody knuckles. It did, however, require bruises on his knees and elbows.
SPAACE!Clyde was tantalized by b-boying (or breakdancing. You ignorant journal). I won't go through the musicality, soul, spirituality aspect of it because as a foreigner to the culture, you just won't get it. Just know that it helped me achieve the dynamicism in my future fighting style, but not solely that. Know the ledge!
SPAACE!Graffiti. Truly a sacrificing art. An art not for the selfish, but for the giving. Eh, I won't bore you any further with that. Graffiti is tough in a city of psychics watching your every step before you even take one, but for some reason Clyde never had a problem. (Spoiler: He's/I'm a psychic.) He was influenced from an artist from a(n) (excellent) movie titled Exit Through the Giftshop, his name was Banksy. Like the vandals that preceded him, Clyde adopted a mask to avoid being made by security cameras or witnesses. Two masks actually. A black Zorro mask used from the previous Halloween, and a red bandanna to shield his mouth and nose from poisonous spraypaint fumes. Graffiti taught him to be sneaky, stealthy, climby, to see the city in a whole new way, and the importance of how to escape.
SPAACE!I know, I know... This really sounds like the steps to becoming something wicked. Well, you're half right 'cause I was on the path to becoming wicked... awesome! No normal person would simply shrug off villainy, Clyde hated what he had become. Bruce Lee would be ashamed.
SPAACE!With enough "earnings," Clyde retired from his life of crime. Temporarily anyways... PAUSE.
Resume play?
SPAACE!The Masked Clyde
SESSION FOUR
Journ-journ,
SPAACE!Another session with the Doc. She's kinda ticked since I've missed a few sessions. I didn't intentionally miss them. Was just busy. You'll know with what as soon as I catch up. Until then, back to the show.
SPAACE!Clyde had stopped all forms of being a vandal (i.e. stealing, graffiti, fighting). At that point, he had enough moolah to sustain the household, until he could find a decent job. And on his path of peace, he sought to make amends with those he wronged. Y'know that show that got cancelled? The one with Jason Lee? The one about karma. It's like that.
SPAACE!First up, the dudes (and a few chicks) who still have Clyde's shoeprint on their backside. As sincere as Clyde could be in each individual situation, it almost always proved futile... That means he got his ass STOMPED! Just thinking about it makes me relive those indian burns, atomic wedgies, and mega noogies. Yikes!
SPAACE!Next up, the people he remembers stealing from. With a fraction of the money he stole from them, Clyde bought them some nice giftcards to Javabean (That's your Starbucks equivalent). They didn't even realize their money was gone! What was I to do?
SPAACE!What next you ask? Graffiti. Psh, yeah right! NEXT!
SPAACE!As much as Clyde didn't want to, he had to apologize for all the rude remarks to MEGA, MEATY, MASSIVE Maddy. Yuck! Oh, goodness. Those were the days. Just barking away at Maddy. What happened between us? Well...
SPAACE!We were best friends for our entire pre-puberty lives, but when others mocked her for her weight, Clyde had to join in. Having virtually no family, Clyde had to side with quantity of friends than quality. It was a weak time for him! Forgive the young lad!
SPAACE!Picture this. The sun was setting, skies were orange, after school, Clyde stalked Maddy fumbling around in his head, looking for the right words to say. Just as the words came to him, the screeching of tires to pavement broke his train of thought. The car charged down with Maddy in its sights.
SPAACE!Clyde shouted at the top of his voice to warn her, but Maddy was too busy listening to Air Supply through her headphones. At the end of his warning, Clyde pushed off the sidewalk with every inch of force he possibly could, and jetted to push Maddy out of the way. After successfully saving her, Clyde had a brief moment of relief midair, but that was shattered along with his femur, his arm, his ribs, when the car had crashed into him instead. Black out.
SPAACE!Another session with the Doc. She's kinda ticked since I've missed a few sessions. I didn't intentionally miss them. Was just busy. You'll know with what as soon as I catch up. Until then, back to the show.
SPAACE!Clyde had stopped all forms of being a vandal (i.e. stealing, graffiti, fighting). At that point, he had enough moolah to sustain the household, until he could find a decent job. And on his path of peace, he sought to make amends with those he wronged. Y'know that show that got cancelled? The one with Jason Lee? The one about karma. It's like that.
SPAACE!First up, the dudes (and a few chicks) who still have Clyde's shoeprint on their backside. As sincere as Clyde could be in each individual situation, it almost always proved futile... That means he got his ass STOMPED! Just thinking about it makes me relive those indian burns, atomic wedgies, and mega noogies. Yikes!
SPAACE!Next up, the people he remembers stealing from. With a fraction of the money he stole from them, Clyde bought them some nice giftcards to Javabean (That's your Starbucks equivalent). They didn't even realize their money was gone! What was I to do?
SPAACE!What next you ask? Graffiti. Psh, yeah right! NEXT!
SPAACE!As much as Clyde didn't want to, he had to apologize for all the rude remarks to MEGA, MEATY, MASSIVE Maddy. Yuck! Oh, goodness. Those were the days. Just barking away at Maddy. What happened between us? Well...
SPAACE!We were best friends for our entire pre-puberty lives, but when others mocked her for her weight, Clyde had to join in. Having virtually no family, Clyde had to side with quantity of friends than quality. It was a weak time for him! Forgive the young lad!
SPAACE!Picture this. The sun was setting, skies were orange, after school, Clyde stalked Maddy fumbling around in his head, looking for the right words to say. Just as the words came to him, the screeching of tires to pavement broke his train of thought. The car charged down with Maddy in its sights.
SPAACE!Clyde shouted at the top of his voice to warn her, but Maddy was too busy listening to Air Supply through her headphones. At the end of his warning, Clyde pushed off the sidewalk with every inch of force he possibly could, and jetted to push Maddy out of the way. After successfully saving her, Clyde had a brief moment of relief midair, but that was shattered along with his femur, his arm, his ribs, when the car had crashed into him instead. Black out.
Sorry to cut things short. I think we're invading Praetoria today.
SPAACE!The Masked Renegato (Renegade + Cat in spanish.)
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