Despite his life of infamy and luxury, Manson Murdoc was still a man driven mad with power. Not in the sense that he was currently in control of almost the entire city, except for a few districts still owned by the Italian and Russian mobs, but in the sense that he possessed a rare ability that marked him... Different. Empowered. He possessed a form few have seen and lived to tell the tale, those who have, are chosen. Chosen to spread the myth of the Black Shuck. Grim. The Ultimate Shield. He had many names. The night was cold, he could feel it on his "skin". The cool night air was alive with the lights of the city. Gone were the epilepsy inducing strobe and party lights from the club. No throbbing bass, just the sound of the city. The loudest sound to him was his own breathing, panting, out of breath, an occasional growl of frustration coming out in a beastly manner as he pushed himself. Unknown to the world below, Manson was leaping rooftops at a alarming rate. His movements fast, unnatural, and certainly not in a fashion a man would move. One would liken it to how a werewolf would chase down his prey. His footsteps sounded heavy, but the figure moved so fast. Gone now were the clothes that adorned his upper body, now only down to his slacks and shoes. His torso bare, his matte black skin in this shape reflected the pale moonlight, most strikingly, his head was now demonic, scary and horned. His eyes red with  black slit pupils.<br/><br/>How  do you think he established such a magnificent criminal empire? Couldn't expect anyone to do your work for you, and after bits of information he had picked up, it was time for action. Sure he was a man of bullets and guns, he even took up martial arts and swordplay, his ability to alter his body allowing him to mass the experience more then any man who has lived a normal life. The legend of Grim the Black Shuck went back centuries. After traversing the city by rooftop any within the vicinity would hear a glass window shatter as if someone through themselves through it. Especially Johnny, who would find himself a surprise visit by the black demon crouching over him on his bed.<br/><br/>"You guys aren't exactly being subtle about this new Superteam you have going." He pressed a clawed finger into his chest, just enough to prove how sharp they are. "So c'mon oldtimer..." His eyes glanced over to the newspaper clippings. When he returned his gaze back to the hero he leaned in closer. "We're getting too old for this shit Johnny. MY-" he nodded for emphasis. "-city tells me an angel's looking for me."