When Daniel Dean first came to Rhy'Din, he was overwhelmed with wonder. A human from late twentieth century Earth, the magic and mixed timelines of Rhy'Din delighted him to no end.
Having been a motivational speaker on Earth, he did not have any skills that would be particularly useful in his new home, but he quickly learned that he had a knack with horses, and worked his way from being a stable hand to driving a hansom. He found that, so long as he was careful, he was able to live in relative comfort on his meager wages. He was able to rent an apartment, and even managed to hold onto enough to have a night out now and then.

It was during these nights out that his opinion of the magic in the land began to sour. There he was, spending his hard-earned coin, and mages would walk in, wave their hand, and rain gold on the bartender (assuming they didn't simply conjure their own drink). When he was barely able to scrape together the coin for a modest silver bracelet for a lady friend, a mage waltzed in and snapped his fingers, gifting her with gold and diamonds. Or, worse, some brown-robed spacefarer would wave his hand in front of her face, causing her to follow him wherever he wanted to lead her. He began to notice that everything he had to work hard for, some magic user could get with a wave of his hand or a snap of his fingers.

He talked to the other humans he knew, those without ability in magic, about this problem. It turned out that many others felt as he did, that those who worked in magic were being unfair to those who couldn't have whatever they wanted with a wave of their hands. Banding together with those he trusted, he formed a group he called the Fraternal Order of Humanity, with the goal of removing magic from the city of Rhy'Din. It was not a large group, really. There were few members, and they were not of the powerful sort, by any means. However, they came to the attention of certain mages, who became worried. When Dean began giving speeches on the dangers of magic and the virtue of mundane technology, one of these mages decided to kill him with an item of that very technology (as magic would have merely made Dean a martyr).

The assassin mage was unsuccessful, though not captured, when the bullet was caught by the Crimson Flash.

As Dean walked down the street, he found that he could actually feel the energies of those that used magic. His appearance, though not normal in those rags, did not garner much attention in Rhy’Din, and he was able to steal the magic from many before anyone realized just what was happening. Even then, no one suspected the man garbed in the tattered cloak. He was wandering aimlessly, and he knew that it would take him ages to make a dent on the magic of the world. He needed to have direction, to have a plan, and he began to form one over the next few days.
The mages’ guilds. It would be a strike that would be noticed, that would have a real effect. But he could not simply walk in and begin to steal their power. Already, he knew that there were whispers about a thief of magic. He may be able to cause some damage, but there was no way he would last long before one of them managed to stop him. He needed some means to distract them, to draw their attention away so he could do what he needed to do.

While he planned an assault on the mages, he continued to steal the magics of those he came across. Healers lost their touch, shifters found themselves stuck in one form, and other, subtler, magics were lost without immediate notice. It was not until he took the magic from an offworlder, whose ability to survive in the air of Rhy’Din was achieved through magical means, that he saw his actions as causing harm. He froze, appalled, as he watched the man fall to the street, gasping for breath. As the man died, Dean released his hold on all the magic he had taken, and was thrown back. The power escaped him explosively, shooting out of his hands in a blast that left a smoking crater in the road. He rose, stumbling, and ran.

A man was dead. Dean drew shaky breaths, staring at his hands, once he had stopped running. He had killed someone. He had wanted to help, to save the city, the world. Magic was to be its ruin, and he wanted to stop that before too much damage was done. How had he come to the point where a person was dead?
He shook his head, lifting a cold gaze to the world around him. He had killed a man who existed here because of magic. The man had no right to live, was a product of the very thing Dean had decided to destroy. Any who existed through the grace of magic deserved to die.
He shuddered, realizing that before this was over he would need to destroy himself. After all of the other magic is taken, he would need to die, as he existed through magic, now. His life had been saved twice by magic, and the power he would use to save the world was one of magic. He was willing to die, however, knowing that he would have done some good. He would be the last to die because of magic, after taking care of all the others.

Yes, he would take their magic, or kill them all in the process. A dark smile lit his face, and he began to walk again. He would need to take a good deal of power, before he could do what he would need to, but he was sure he could do it. Once he had the energy, he could bring down the walls of the mage guilds. Blind shock had blown a hole in the street. If he focussed himself, controlled it, he could destroy them all. First, however, he would need to take more magic. And so he did. He walked the streets, taking magic as he could. Days later, he caused another to fall.

The woman was not an offworlder, like the first to die at his hand. She was a native to Rhy’Din, and had an artificial heart. Powered by magic, it stopped beating when Dean drew her magic away. A red blur signaled the arrival of the Crimson Flash, who caught her before she hit the ground. He looked down at her before turning his head to peer at Dean.
Dean, for his part, was prepared for the possibility of being seen in the act. He took on a shocked air, starting to explain that he was walking by when this woman simply fell before him. All the while, of course, he was attempting to draw the magic away from Crimson, and the lack of any noticeable effect made surprise much easier to feign. Crimson nodded, frowning, then tore down the road to carry the woman to a healer.

Dean scowled as he stared after Crimson. He was sure that the other man’s speed was the product of magic, but he could not take it. He walked off, in the opposite direction, toward the guild halls. He believed that he had enough power, combined with what he would be able to take from mages near the halls, to do what he must. He would still go ahead with the plan, even if Crimson had retained his power. Later, after the mages were devastated, he could worry about the costumed meddler.