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Here's the first part of a fanfiction piece about the Question, because I've chosen for my new identity to be 'that guy who likes third-string superheroes'. This is a sort of prequel to Hard Night, as I imagine it being set in the continuity of that story. Inspired in part by Dennis O'Neil's novel Helltown, a sort of retelling of the Question's origin. Enjoy or not:

Night in Hub City was never pleasant.

Dim streetlamps flickered and occasionally died out entirely, leaving most parts of Hub City drowned in a pitch black blanket. Muggers waited in alleys for unsuspecting prey, pushers stood on most street corners. Gunshots sounded every few minutes, screams of the injured and the dying following not long after before being snuffed out with another shot. Charles Victor Szasz, who was not yet Vic Sage or the Question, was wandering through these streets. It had been five years since he last lived in the city, five years since he had graduated college and left for Metropolis to find a job.

But questions, questions about himself and his origins, had led him back to the Hub. The Godforsaken city of the damned. Take the crime rates of cities like Gotham and Bludhaven, add them together, then multiply that by ten. That's about a quarter of the crime rate in Hub City.

Charlie sighed, looking down at his wristwatch. Half past ten. He was hoping to find a halfway decent motel to spend the night in, so long as it had a bed it was good. The young man continued his search, eventually finding his way to a rundown place with a neon sign. He didn't care for the rest, all he saw was the flickering 'n' in the lit up word 'vacancy'. Nodding, he entered the office.

It stank of cigarettes and broken dreams. Behind the counter was a portly man with a craggy face, hand on his crotch as he read through the latest issue of Playboy. He looked up at the sound of the door opening, casually setting down the magazine with no shame. "You a Jew?" Was the first thing out of the man's mouth.

"What?" Charlie asked.

"I asked if you was a Jew, boy. Got the red 'air ah one."

"Not that I know."

"What's yer name, son?"

"Charles. Charles Szasz."

"That Jewish?"

"Not that I know of, no."

"Whatever. Thirty bucks a night."

Without saying anything else, Charlie pulled out his wallet and handed the man a twenty and a ten. He looked at the cash, sticking it into a lockbox on the counter, before grabbing some keys and tossing it at the younger man. "107's yer room. 'ave a good night."

Nodding, Charlie left for his room. There wasn't much in it, a bed with sheets that looked like they had never been washed, a scratched dresser, an old boxy looking TV. Another door led into the bathroom, and all the room had in terms of appliances was a microwave set upon the dresser. Not even a fridge. Well, it could be worse.

Yawning, Charlie tossed off his backpack and fell onto the bed, snoring moments after.

-----

So yeah, there's the first part of this little tale. Planning on it being only three parts. Again, enjoy or not.

I definitely enjoyed the first Question storygame that you made, so I wouldn't mind seeing a sequel or prequel in this case, Chris. 

Good luck! :) 

I would like to personally endorse and support the 'third-string superhero' path you've chosen. That looks like a pretty good opening, it's just vague enough to be intriguing. I enjoy, for sure.

This new identity you've carved out for yourself is a good one. Expecting a Question-based avatar change any day.

Anyway, this was short but I can't really find anything to suggest improving about it. Looking forward to the next parts.

EDIT: Finished.

The orphanage was gone. Three years ago, a fire broke out. All the files were lost, the building was burnt to the ground, everything was just... Gone. All of Charlie's hopes for discovering anything about his origins went with it. Still, a part of him was happy: the worst years of his life were spent in that orphanage, so seeing it all go up in flames... He had to admit it, it filled him with joy.

Still, his sole reason for coming back to the Hub was gone, and he was left here with nothing to do. He should just head back to Metropolis, continue his job at the Daily Planet, just forget about this ridiculous quest. But, some part of him forced himself to stay in the city. He felt like there was something he needed to do. Then it came to him. With a nod to himself, he decided to visit an old friend.

Aristotle Rodor, affectionately referred to as 'Tot' by Charlie. Charlie's college professor, a former scientist, and the closest thing he ever had to a father. When he was kicked out of the orphanage, he spent most of his days in a homeless shelter, doing odd jobs for cash and hoping to enroll into college to get the education he needed to get an actual, you know, career. Luckily, a chance encounter at a car wash led to him meeting Tot, and a few weeks later he found himself living on the campus in a dorm.

If it wasn't for Tot, he probably would have been claimed by gang violence long ago; either as a victim caught in the crossfire, or as one of the troubled youths who joined up with a gang and died during a shootout. It felt wrong to not visit him while Charlie was in town. As Charlie mulled this over in his head while he walked, he didn't even realize he was already there until he was knocking on the door.

A few moments of silence passed, before the door was opened, revealing a middle-aged man with graying brown hair in a buzz cut and a similarly graying goatee. His brown eyes widened when he saw Charlie, before he smiled. "Charlie. It's been too long, come in." He opened the door wider, allowing the young man to enter.

Tot sat himself down in a recliner, grabbing a glass full of what appeared to be brandy off of his end table and taking a sip. "So what brings you here? I assume you didn't travel into town just to see little old me."

Charlie sat himself down in a chair opposite Tot, sighing. "Just... Trying to find out about my past. Where I came from, who my parents are, all that."

Tot quirked an eyebrow, "... Hm. I never knew you wondered about that."

"I didn't for a while... Now I just want to find out more about it, but of course the universe won't let me. The orphanage burned down."

"Yes, I'm aware."

"... I dunno. I don't want to talk about it, really. Just... Can I get a drink?"

Tot chuckles, "of course" he said. He stood, walking towards a shelf where a pitcher of brandy and a few glasses were set up. He refilled his glass, and poured one for Charlie, returning with both of them not long after. He passed Charlie his glass, while sitting back down in his recliner.

Tot took a drink, a dark look on his face. Charlie noticed. "Something up, Tot?"

Tot looked at his ward, sighing. "Just something troubling I learned today."

"Anything I could help you with?"

"I doubt it."

"Just tell me."

"An old colleague of mine, from before my days teaching at the university, is planning on doing something illegal."

Charlie raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"Back when we were younger, Arby Twain and I were inventing artificial skin we called Pseudoderm. It could act as a bandage, concreting itself against any surface when exposed to a special gas we designed."

"And? Did it work?"

"Oh, it did."

"Then what's the problem?"

"We discovered that the gas, if exposed to open wounds, was toxic. We agreed to abandon the project and moved on."

"... I think I can guess where this is going. Your colleague wants to sell it, hm?"

Tot nodded. "Exactly. He's going to sell it to third world countries for a large profit."

"Well, we gotta do something to take him down."
Tot frowned, shaking his head. "I have no concrete evidence of the operation. I went to the police, but they waved it away."

"Well, do you know where he is?"

"Yes, why?"

"Send me after him. I'll make that old fucker beg for his mother."

"Charles, that's vigilante justice. It's illegal as well."

"That Batman guy in Gotham does."

"... People would see your face."

"I'd wear a mask."

"Twain or any of his cronies could easily tear it off!"

"Then I can use that Pseudoderm stuff and cement it to my face. They can't tear it off then."

After a moment's hesitation, Tot sighed. "... Yes, that is feasible."

Charlie grinned. "Great, you still have some? And the gas too?" Tot nodded. "Great, I can just use that as a mask."

"You do realize it'd be impossible to see or breath out of it, correct?"

"C'mon, you're a smart guy, you could figure out how to make a mask out of it."

Tot sighed, massaging his temples. "... I suppose I can make a mask out of it. It'll take a day or two to make it, however."

Charlie grinned. "Sweet. Ring me up when you finish." He took a note and pen off the end table, scribbling down his number. Tot stood up to give his ward a hug, before Charlie headed off, grinning like a maniac.

Charlie knew, deep down, that this was why he stayed in the Hub. Not some hope to found out anything about his past. But something about his future. What will his future hold for him? That was the question he should have asked, and it appears he has found the answer.

-----

So yeah, there's part two; Charlie is on the fast track to becoming the Question, and we have our starting villain, Dr. Twain. Both Rodor and Twain are canon characters in the comics, and Charlie/Vic becoming the Question to take down Twain's illegal sale of Pseudoderm is often the canon origin for him, though this has changed a few times.

Oh, and a recent thread has made me want to specify that I am open to any and all feedback and kind of looking for it. So yeah, please be sure to leave feedback on the story.

~ Chris

And part 2 is done.

Well the second (still in progress) part is short, and you should feel bad for not writing faster, but in general it's nice getting filled in on the character's background somewhat. You should include this story as a easter egg lore book somewhere in the next storygame if you're not too set on this no scripting thing.