[IC] Absolute Comics - Season Two: The Monster Within (Page 14)

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[IC] Absolute Comics - Season Two: The Monster Within Page 14

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Hidden 5 yrs ago → 5 yrs ago Post by Mao Mao

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Mao Mao Sheriff of Pure Hearts (They/Them)

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Washington, D.C.
Present Day
Issue #4.01
𝗪𝗢𝗡𝗗𝗘𝗥 𝗪𝗢𝗠𝗔𝗡

There were four different opening statements each designed to deprecate Wonder Woman for various reasons. Senator Stern's opening was about placing blame on her for the recent surge of heroes and villains. Next, Senator Suarez expressed concern over the whereabouts of her rivals, Cheetah and Giganta, since their escape from prison years ago. He asked where Diana was on the night of their escape and how she didn't immediately search for them. Then, Senator Finch spent five minutes talking about her CGI simulation of Wonder Woman attacking New York City and even showed it to the public. It revealed that she won without a sweat against a fully trained company. That resulted in the senator stating that the simulation could easily become a reality if the hero had reasons. 

Finally, it was Senator Swanwick's turn as he readied himself for the statement. He proclaimed that Wonder Woman was an unstoppable force with unknown intentions. In the course of the investigation, they have found several events throughout the 20th century that were troubling. That was when he started listing them off for the public: Opposition of the Hamburg bombing, Rohwer WRC incident, JSA conflict of 1945, her interventions during the Civil Rights Movement, and her conflictions with the Bush administration during the War on Terror. Each of these events, according to Swanwick, highlighted how Wonder Woman unnecessary inserted herself into situations. He called the hero out on it, saying that none of this would have happened if she listened and obeyed orders. Eventually, he ended the opening statement with a reminder that she'll have to answer for her actions. 

Now came the sworn statement that took only a few minutes. After that, it was Diana's turn to give her own opening statement to the committee. She looked up at the twelve senators and took a deep breath. That was when she addressed them. 

"Good morning, Chairman Finch, Ranking Member Swanwick, and members of the committee. It's an honor to be here today, answering any concerns you have. I want to take a minute to discuss the events mentioned in this room and apologize. I am sorry for any pain that I have caused to the victims and their loved ones, especially in Transia. Yet, I can't express regret for my actions. I did what felt right in my heart instead of following orders."

"What about Transia? Did your heart tell you to kill those men?" Senator Stern interrupted. 

"Those footages lacked context. The insurgents were setting buildings on fire, shooting fleeing citizens, and holding police officers hostage. Not to mention Yuri Petrovitch was responsible for starting the rebellion against the current President. And he had "killed" Iron Man. Imagine if you were in my shoes, Senator. What would have done?" Diana fired back at the senator before Senator Swanwick banged the gavel. 

"That's enough! Both of you!" Swanwick shouted and turned to Diana. "Finish your statement so we can move on."

Diana continued her opening speech. "Still, I have learned from Transia and vowed to do better. Not just for this committee and my innocence, but for the whole world."

Senator Swanwick looked around the room and sighed. "Now, with that done, we are here today to ask-"

Suddenly, the television screen behind Senator Finch began flickering out of control until an armored man appeared. "The time of Men has come to an end. You sit atop your ivory towers and in your arrogance believe yourselves to be the superior people. You think your government, your armies, your heroes can keep you safe- that they'll protect you from people like me. You're all fools. I am called Stryfe, and we are the Metahuman Supremacy Front. We will show America- and humanity- humility. We will tear down your palaces, put to the pyre your precious law and order. We will show you how truly vulnerable your nation really is. Safety is an illusion."

Stryfe uncrossed his arms and approached the camera until his masked face dominated the entire screen.

"This is your reckoning."

The scene changed to a view of Central Park in New York City, where an art-piece broke apart and unleashed a mass of locust. It quickly covered the park before moving on to a different part of the city. There was silence for a moment from the screen and in the room until a blood-curdling scream got everyone's attention. That was when a man appeared running awkwardly towards the woman and then processed to attack her brutality. He would have killed the woman, but she responded by biting his ear off and clawing at his face. Meanwhile, the room expressed terror as people within the park started attacking each other without control. Senator Reilly was desperately trying to search for his phone to call his wife and daughter, who lived in New York City. The other senators were frozen with fear as the screen changed again to the swarm as it was being dispersed across New York City and Star City alike. Then, the screen went black before the capitol logo reappeared.

While the other senators were starting to realize what happened, Diana knew that there were people that needed her in New York City. "I am sorry senators, but I have to go and stop that swarm." Diana proclaimed and started heading towards the doors. However, Senator Swanwick banged the gavel again with more force and it got everyone's attention, including hers. 

"You can't leave this building." the senator said oddly calm. 

"What?"

"I am not allowing you to leave this building for the benefit of this nation. You are currently under investigation for your actions, including the current incident at New York City and Star City." Senator Swanwick answered the question. Meanwhile, Senator Stern looked at her with disgust and snapped.

"What are you doing?! We need to call the police to restrict her! Who knows what she'll do next!"

Diana was dumbfounded at Swanwick's accusation and stared at the others while they argued about what to do with her. The journalists started to take pictures of everyone while the people in the back were on their phones, trying to find more information. She knew that being here was pointless because they already found her guilty. The people of New York City and Star City were at risk of losing their sanity to the swarm and their lives to people affected. Initially, she tried to call for the senators' notice, but that proved pointless. That was when she was done.

As hard as she could, Diana struck the podium to get their attention. The senators looked at her with fear in their eyes while the wooden top split in half. Senator Stern tried to call for help but Senator Suarez quickly told him to be quiet. "I've had enough of this political bullshit!" Diana barked at them.

"The real purpose of this committee is to control heroes and metahumans. Your country's attempts on the previous generations have failed. Now, they have decided to set up this committee to make all of you find the answer. However, this generation of heroes is unlike any that I have ever seen. I've read the writing on the wall. They'll resist your country's attempts at controlling their lives. They'll band together and show the entire world that their powers are meant to protect and defend. Instead of giving in to your hatred, this new generation will only become stronger."

Diana turned around and looked at the people, some of them had their phones out to film her. "I know that I haven't been a perfect role model for them or the whole world. And I have disappointed many of them recently. That's how I know the heroes of today and tomorrow will make me proud. They'll be better than me. They'll become everything the heroes of the past stood for. Now, I have a city to save."

Senator Swanwick, almost speechless, knew that he needed to regain control. "If you leave this room, there will be consequences! I'll make sure of that!"

"I honestly don't fucking care, Senator Swanwick. You can make the government send out warrants for my arrest or have them kill me. Do whatever it takes to prevent me from setting foot in your country. I'll still risk my life for the people of the United States of America. That is a promise." And with that, she made her way out of the room and started running across the hallway. She ran as fast as she could to the outside. The crowds from earlier were gone most likely due to the news of the swarm. It gave her enough space to take off as quickly as possible. Her speech to the committee wasted a lot of time, but it was necessary. She started heading towards New York City, the nearest city compared to Star City.

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Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by DocTachyon

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DocTachyon Teenage Neenage Neetle Teetles

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SPIDER-MAN: THE DISTANCE

Issue 9

New York City, NY --- Queens

Peter had begun to notice the smells of the Parker house once again. It was like old books and flower scented cleaning chemicals, the tiniest bits of sawdust trailing from the creaking stairs and the smell of plastics loved to death with sweat and use. The blindness to it was gone, somehow deactivated by the subtle grease of wheelchair wheels making slow tracks through the house and the smell of burning casserole rising into the air.

“Oh! Peter!” May called as she pulled open the oven, swatting at the rising smoke with a mitt as the fire alarm began to trill, sharp and crisp. Peter pulled a stool across the floor, three legs dragged across the hardwood floor and Peter pushed himself up, pulling the alarm from its housing. He wrestled the batteries out. The sound went out of the room all at once, but for the creak of the wheelchair as Ben rolled himself into the room.

“Casserole today, May?” Ben raised an eyebrow as the corner of his mouth turned up.

“I got this recipe from the internet…” May mumbled as she pulled the smoking remains from the oven, a crusty black thing shriveled up in the casserole dish. May placed it on the counter and folded her arms, content to let the last of the smoke froth.

“Well,” Peter said, “we’ve all seen A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving.” There was a moment of silence then, but for the sound of the house settling and the rolling of distant tires. Ben cracked first, breaking into a belly laugh that immediately took in May and Peter. He wiped the tears from his eyes.

“Pizza, then?”

*

Peter chewed his slice, and watched Ben across from him over the arc of his pizza crust. He felt a lift in his stomach and a tingle across his shoulders. He smiled.

“So, Pete, you figure we’ll find some way to rig up one of those wheelchair elevators?” Ben asked, pausing before the choice of plain cheese or mushroom-and-onion.

“Another DIY project? Ben, the insurance said--” May began. Ben waved her off.

“No, no -- I’m sure Peter and I can figure this one out. Right bud?” He put his slices on his plate and reached for the parmesan cheese.

“Well, we’ll need to see what we can borrow from Mr. Stacy’s garage.” Peter smiled into his bite, taking a mouthful of cheese. He chewed, thinking through the parts.

Some kind of elastic rope or track or something. Non-stick webbing would do the trick. Would suck to develop it and then have that full time, though… Peter looked up from his slice and met Ben’s eyes, staring back at him. Peter felt the ache in his shoulder again. It hadn’t burned like this since breaking into the lab a few days ago.

“Have you heard anything from Gwen, Peter?” Ben asked. Peter swallowed.

“About what?”

“You haven’t been keeping up with the news, sweetheart?” May tilted her head.

“You know, May. Back to school.” Peter shrugged. The table creaked as he pushed his ceramic plate an inch forward. She shook her head.

“That Spider-Man character has been making a tear through the city.” May pulled her rose lace jacket around herself. “They just announced that he attacked the Police Station. And in this neighborhood, I…” May sighed.

“And to think he calls himself a superhero.” Ben crunched through his slice, crushing mushrooms and shredding onions with his teeth. Peter fished in his pocket for his phone.

“They’re all so self-righteous.” May wiped her hands on a napkin. “Their way or the highway with all of it.  Dreadful! And with what he did to that Mr. Morbius!”

Damnit. Peter clutched his cellphone and squeezed.

“Now, that name does sound familiar…” Ben tapped his chin. He snapped his fingers. “Peter, didn’t he work at Doctor Connors’ lab with you and Gwen?”

“Yeah. Doc’s assistant. Mrs. Connors was telling Gwen and I what happened.” Peter brought his hand out of his pocket. Hospitalized. Stable, conscious, but they still can’t figure out what the hell I tagged him with… He felt tension at the back of his head, muscles tightening. He lifted another slice. Not like I know, either…

“Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy.” Peter said through a mouthful.

“Peter!” May looked at him.

“Sorry! Sorry. He’s just… I dunno.”  Peter rubbed at his wrist. In the days since, he still hadn’t been able to make the suit lance out like that. It worked better than his webs ever had -- but why did it stop?

“Innocent people.” Ben said. “Disgraceful.” Peter ripped at his slice with his teeth.

“You never know. Superheroes, people to save, things to do.”

“When was the last time he saved someone?” Ben was looking at him now, pools of brown like burnt gold locked onto his eyes.

When I stopped the X-Men’s car from -- or when I catch Tombstone or… Peter breathed through his nose.

“I don’t know.”

“So reckless. Dangerous. Not like those X-kids. Putting their necks out there for those boys at Bayville, God help them.” Ben wiped the crumbs from his hands, they fell to his plate.

“I don’t know if I trust any of them. People in masks. It doesn’t sit right with me.” May said.

“You’re starting to sound like Jameson, Aunt May.”

“Never agreed with the man, but… Well, maybe he’s onto something. If they can’t hold themselves accountable? Can’t take the responsibility that comes with what they can do…” Ben turned his hands up.

“Like Spider-Man doesn’t?” Peter cut back.

“I haven’t seen Supergirl fighting with the police. She doesn’t seem to need a mask for that, Pete.” Ben said evenly.

“Ben--” Peter’s muscles tensed. He felt lightning and pain at the back of his head. He pulled himself forward with his forearms, the table shook.

“Peter Benjamin.” May said. Soft, but firm. Peter relented. He scooped his plate into one hand and pushed his seat back.

“I’ve got lots of homework to do.” He got to his feet and rounded the table, passing Ben and making for the second floor.

“It’s a Saturday, kiddo.” Ben craned his neck to track his nephew but stopped as Peter got behind him. He tried to twist himself in his wheelchair, bringing his left tire to be caught under the table.

“And your Uncle just came back from--” May stood, reaching out to help her husband.

“And I just got back to school. Need to catch up. Study, and stuff.” Peter took the stairs two at a time. His sneakers squeaked across the floorboards and he crossed to his room.

He heard their voices come from the first floor as he twisted his doorknob.

“What’s gotten into him?”

“He’s a teenager, May. He’s just… Having a rough time of it.”

“Should we--?”

“No, no. I’m sure he’ll figure it out. He’s a smart kid.”

Figure it out, Ben? Peter pulled his phone from his pocket and held the power button as he clothes deformed and the black cloth of his suit began to bubble and rise around him. Silk against his skin. His phone hummed to life as the lenses closed around his eyes. I’m gonna ‘figure out’ how to walk on eggshells in this goddamn… The phone buzzed in his hand.

Incoming Message from: OSBORN, HARRY

Dude! R u seeing the news rn?

Incoming Message from: WATSON, MJ; STACY, GWEN; and +1 More

Are you guys okay??? @ home? Not in Manhattan??

Peter swiped the notifications aside and clicked on his news app. It flashed onto his cracked phone screen -- dozens of slapdash articles, most posted just minutes ago. Almost all with the same photo of a man with a spiked helm and huge shoulder plates, arms crossed, staring down at the camera with a twisted face.

"New York Times: Metahuman Supremacy Front Threatens NYC (DEVELOPING)”

“CNN: Metahuman Terrorists Invade New York City With Super Bug (DEVELOPING)”

“Daily Bugle: Mutants Invade Manhattan, Mounting Casualties (DEVELOPING)”

The articles went on. There was a feed at the top of the page. Peter was already halfway to the window as he clicked on it. The footage was grainy, but stable, supported. A reporter with a flat top of orange hair stood in the middle of West 57th street. Most of the cars around him were abandoned, some smoldered in the sunlight. He stared straight ahead, clutching his mic close. Peter though he saw a body in the background. Limp, with its arms and legs at odd angles to the torso.

“This is Eddie Brock, reporting with *ktsch* on the scene at *ktsch* where civilians are --” The camera twisted and shuddered as the reporter spoke. It tipped over and skittered across the ground like a dying roach.

“Jack? You good?” Peter saw the Brock’s feet taking slow steps backward as he spoke to his cameraman. Another pair of feet entered, settling into a staggered run.

“Fucking--!” The video cut at the last second. 

I might need a little backup… He tapped out of the news app and pushed off from the window, sending out his first webline. He tapped the phone icon and started to dial.

“Hey, Eye-guy? I don’t wanna be that friend that only calls when he needs help or whatever, but, uh, well, you might wanna turn on a TV.”

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Hidden 5 yrs ago → 5 yrs ago Post by mickilennial

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mickilennial Gowi Reinkarnated

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Location: Axel Heiberg Island, Canada - PresentIssue #1.07: Don't Flinch / Crisis Event

Kara was never one who liked surprises.

In her experience, surprises were almost always categorically terrible. From the bullying she endured from Sabra Khoury in middle school to finding out your adopted grandparents wanted nothing to do with you, Kara never really cared for things she couldn’t really prepare for. When Livewire told her that she was going to have to “wait for the big surprise” it nearly sent her into a panic attack. After being introduced to an alien database that was always listening and the strengthening of her super-hearing when she was in the stratosphere, Kara didn’t exactly expect people were going to be coy and cryptic, but bad guys were going to do bad guy stuff.

As soon as made away from the offshore facility, Kara had made a bee-line to the Fortress of Solitude in hopes that Kelex could pick up something, anything. And the only answer he could give her was that a source of alien technology had been detected during her fight with Livewire, though what kind of technology wasn’t present in kryptonian records. It left Kara sitting on her thumbs as she looked through decrypted files on Livewire that Kelex had accessed. Past associations. Psychological records. Origin story. Online blog. Youtube account. Whatever she could find, even if it didn't help her much.

“Hm.” Kara muttered underneath her breath. “Kelex, are you sure this is all we could find?”

“Yes. This is all I could find in the databases I have been able to access pertaining to ‘Livewire’ and ‘Leslie Willis’.”

“There’s nothing that can indicate where I should look. We’re on a bit of a time crunch.”

“You are concerned with her threat.”

“Yeah. I don’t like the sound of ‘the big surprise’.”

Kara bit her lip. Had she fought a little harder, a little quicker, or a little smarter she wouldn’t have been distracted by Livewire so quickly. Whatever surprise Livewire’s friends had in store for the rest of the world, Kara felt like she shared some blame for the result. If she could find some sort of information that led her to be able to prevent a terrorist group from doing damage, then she needed to be looking at every piece of information. Every news headline. Every murmur on the internet. Every seemingly insignificant piece of information that could lead her to find the people responsible before they acted out their “surprise”.

Though, the likelihood of that was getting less-and-less with each passing minute.

The minutes seemed to trail into hours as Kara navigated each nugget of information that Kelex had given her. But even with Livewire’s old social media accounts in the mix there just didn’t seem to be any indication of when Leslie Willis became radicalized. Since her last youtube post some five or six years ago, the woman had an arrest record that seemed to only get exponentially worse with each passing month. At one point she was one of the top names on America’s Most Wanted.

But none of it really stuck out. Her agenda was consistent with what Kara figured made sense for a woman who was barely making ends meet before her metagene materialized. Give someone desperate and morally dubious great power and they would shrike responsibility for their own gain, and that was exactly what Leslie Willis embodied. Once her metagene materialized in 2015, she robbed the First National Bank of Metropolis. That was her first act as her alias – Livewire. Her first arrest wasn’t for two more years after that. When she escaped from Stryker's Island it had an impact on metahuman captivity measures, but until her fight earlier today she had evaded full capture.

Keyword being full.

She was arrested in Gotham City a few months ago – the arresting officer being noted as a Detective S. Alcana. As far as Kara could find, there were no ties of Livewire’s employer or connections. She was supposedly working as an “independent thief”, which given her connections with the group that attacked the Stagg facility was extremely unlikely. The GCPD hadn’t sniffed out or uncovered anything by Livewire. Which made sense given she escaped from GCPD custody before she could be transferred to Blackgate.

“So she found her employer somewhere around that time. Maybe I should visit New Jersey's Black Diamon—” The sudden sound of Kelex's voice snapped her out of her analysis, the kryptonian girl looking over to Kelex's body.

“Kara, I believe I have detected information of interest.”

“Awesome! What do we have?”

“It is a broadcast. I will put it on the central display.”

Kara’s eyes widened as the broadcast began, the man called Stryfe announced his “evil villain speech” all including footage of his chaos. As far as she could presume, this was the “big surprise” that Livewire had been talking about. Worst thing of it all was that he was manipulating people into a frenzy hoping it'd cause wide-scale chaos. She wasn’t sure how he was doing it, but she had to get there to stop it.

“Ugh. I've gotta go.” She sighed as she pressed her left hand into a fist before pressing it into the open palm of her right hand. “I'll be back as soon as I figure this thing out.”

In a flash, she was gone from the Fortress.

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H O M E W O O D   S U I T E S   B Y   H I L T O N   N Y   /   M I D T O W N
Present Day  |   Manhattan, New York

Ted sat at his small hotel table setup with his Blue Beetle gloves and cowl on and no shirt, his tongue slightly protruding from the corner of his mouth as he concentrated on soldering the last of the circuitry to what would become his new B.B. gun.  His gut was also slightly protruding and his lap was covered with crumbs.  He stopped for a break to take a slice of toast and to add more crumbs.  He reached over and brought the Hotel room phone closer.

Pulling his own phone out he video chat dialled a number.  In a few seconds it auto-answered, revealing a dark room and a large ominous shape.  Resting his phone where he could watch the video he dialled a number into the Hotel room phone and waited.  In a few seconds a bright blue light appeared on the video chat screen, before blinking a series of times.  The light revealed the shape of the Bug in it’s hangar.  He hit some buttons on his glove remote, the lights flickered again a darker blue and a single yellow flash.  He hung up the Hotel room phone, satisfied that he had logged the Bug back in to his glove’s remote.  Ted ran diagnostics and checked for the telltale change to the video chat screen’s lighting.  He smiled and returned to his breakfast.

He grabbed the remote and flicked the TV on behind him for background noise.  Started on the now cold coffee, and picked up what would be the B.B. gun’s circuit board to inspect the quality of his work.  It was a neat job.  Sure he’d have to mould a new casing for it soon and pick up components for the sonics settings, as well as to complete the taser rigging, but there would always be time.  Given how long he’d worked on the first, this one was coming along very well.  There’s something to be said about learning from experience.

He toggled through the view settings on his cowl with his index finger until the results of the diagnostic scan started to scroll in front of his vision.  With another selection he pushed it over to just the right lens.  Ted rubbed his left lens with his bare wrist and then furrowed his brow.  The scorch marks were still there from when Abner Jenkins had nearly flash fried his face.  Ted got up and walked to the bathroom to try and clean the lens as best he could with basic soaps and water, when he heard it...

"The time of Men has come to an end..." A voice distorted to be absurdly baritone uttered. 

Ted raised an eyebrow.  He thought he left the TV on to catch the morning news.  He poked his head around the bathroom door, the left lens of his cowl comically caked in soap and suds.

On the screen was a man in heavy metal armour, with a heavy looking bladed helmet.

“How do you even put a thing like that on?  I mean it looks like it’d hurt your neck anyway, but...  Oh he’s wearing gloves!  Well that makes sense.  You wouldn't put a helmet like that on without gloves…”

"You sit atop your ivory towers and in your arrogance believe yourselves to be the superior people. You think your government, your armies, your heroes can keep you safe- that they will protect you from people like me. You're all fools. I am called Stryfe, and we are the Metahuman Supremacy Front. We will show America- and humanity- humility. We will tear down your palaces, put to the pyre your precious law and order. We will show you how truly vulnerable your nation really is. Safety is an illusion."

Stryfe uncrossed his arms and approached the camera until his masked face dominated the entire screen.

"This is your reckoning."

“Where is this anyw-- oh!”

Just as soon as Ted asked the question the figure was gone, replaced by the view of Central Park. A workman began to tap several buttons on a remote he held, and a sculpted art-piece reacted. The polished sides of what was a roughly 6 ft tall obelisk sprang open and fell away into the grass, revealing what lay inside.

“Oh…  Oh no.”  Ted quickly confirmed that diagnostics were complete and the Bug was clear for use, he used his wrist controls to summon it.  Less than 8 minutes and counting.

A black mass exploded out of the tower like a swarm of innumerable locust. They swept across Central Park with terrifying speed. Everyone in view was in a panic, sprinting away in an attempt to escape, only to disappear into the swarm as it passed by them. For several, chaotic moments nothing could be made out through the screeching swarm, the entire screen obscured by their presence. It wasn't until they'd moved on that the bodies came back into view.

Ted rushed over to the sliding door to his balcony and looked out.  He checked all down West 37th and there was no sign of anything.  But then he heard it, a murmuring wave of human screams slowly getting louder and more high pitched, like a wave of terror.  He saw people trying to run from far off down 7th Avenue, a few seconds later they were swept down upon by the black wave.  A few more seconds passed and he saw the same people trying to flee down 8th Avenue, before the black tide descended upon them even faster this time.  Ted turned his head just to see the same sight once more on 9th.  A ball was forming in Ted’s throat and he went back inside and slid the balcony door closed.  He grabbed the bag with the rest of his Blue Beetle gear and started to put the rest of the suit on, whilst taking what he could from the TV footage.

There wasn't a scratch on any of victims.  Every single person was on the ground, in some way, but there appeared to be no blood or gore, and before long they started moving again.  But that was even worse.  The first one broke the silence with a blood curdling, furious scream.  A man, perhaps in his late twenties, sprinted across the grass in an awkward, stumbling gait, running straight for the nearest person to him.  He threw his hands at her like they were clubs, bashing away at her skull and face with an animalistic fervor.  She roared right back at him, sinking her teeth into the other man's ear and tearing away a chunk.

“Like zombies.”  Ted uttered, watching on.  “28 Days Later zombies, to be exact.  Zombies with get-up-and-go.”  He corrected himself.  “Danny Boyle has something to answer to…”

Ted checked the time for the Bug’s ETA.  Still 7 minutes.  Time was crawling.  He was dressed, stressed and ready for success.  He looked down at his work table.  The circuit board was ready, but he had no casing.  It still had some basic functionality though.  He tore into a cupboard and started looking for things to work with, finding the complimentary Hotel Room hairdryer.  He rushed over to the desk and took it apart with a screwdriver.  He took the circuitboard and some caulk and worked magic.  Finishing with the gun he left it to dry as best it could.  He checked the time once more.  3 minutes.  He pulled open his wrist controls in his gloves and found some wire and grabbed the soldering iron and set to work on Plan B.  Working as fast as he could, he used his spare seconds within tasks to hangup his phone from its video chat, and sent a text message to Hank and Jan via voice command.

“Lockdown the compound.  Seal yourself in the Clean Room and I’ll get to you when I can.  Stay safe.”

His thoughts strayed to hoping Tora was OK, as well as her friend Bea.  He had no way to contact them yet.  Then those same thoughts spread to Tony Stark, then Norman Osborn, then his son Harry, then--  He shook his head.  This wasn’t useful.  Dwelling on individuals could only cloud things right now when he needed the most focus.

There was a loud banging on the door.

“Ted!  TED!  Are you in there!  They’re evacuating us down to Meeting Room spaces in the Lobby!”  Murray yelled.

“Is he in there?”  He could hear Jeremiah ask on the other side of the door.

“I don’t know.  I left my phone back in the room and I’m not going back in there now.  He left early yesterday, maybe he did the same again today.  No way he didn’t hear me…”  Ted could hear their voices shrinking as they followed the evacuation procedures for the Hotel.  Ted sighed and kept working, finally finishing and checking the time.

30 seconds.  Better get ready.  

Ted carefully lifted his hamfisted new B.B. gun and holstered it gently.  His arm still hurt, doctors had said he had a hairline fracture to one rib, his weapon of choice was untested and held together with fresh caulk, a cheap hairdryer casing, four screws and prayers, he had no idea who he was fighting, what they were or why.  But he had a direction.

Central Park.

The Bug’s skywire dropped down to his balcony.  Ted stood on the bars and retracted the cable.  As it carried him up to the safety of the Bug he watched the pandemonium breaking out on the street far below, fighting too chaotic to even call a series of brawls.

He thought back to what Abner Jenkins had said about him the previous night.  ‘An immature reaction to an imperfect world’.  He thought about Murray and Jeremiah and hoped they could at least get to ground level as he saw wild people throwing themselves from buildings multiple stories up with no sense of self preservation.  He thought about Tora and Bea and how different they had been from the man in the metal armour.  He thought about Rosa who turned over his Hotel bed, Mike who had helped him with his bags, Julia who checked him in on arrival.  He thought about all of the people, and how he knew he would remember them all, and in that instant confirmed there was nothing immature about this response at all.

For a man in his position it’s the only common sense response to a world bad men make imperfect.

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Hidden 5 yrs ago → 5 yrs ago Post by Lord Wraith

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Lord Wraith Actually Three Otters in a Trenchcoat

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Lord Wraith

Actually Three Otters in a Trenchcoat

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We all wear masks, and the time comes when we cannot remove them without removing some of our own skin.

Location: My Alibi, The Coventry - Founder’s Island, Gotham CityWelcome to the Masquerade Epilogue: A Little Spark of Madness
Interaction(s): NonePreviously: And What Alice Found There

Blue smoke hung in the stale air, vividly coloured lights reflecting off the hazy clouds as they flashed to the rhythm of the sleazy, beat driven music. The air inside the club smelled of spilled spirits and cheap cigarettes. Drunken cheers and obnoxious jeers erupted from the men seated at the small, sticky tables which were all centered around the illuminated stage in the middle of the room. 

Stepping away from the glistening pole, the girl on stage bent over amidst howls and whistles as she scooped up her discarded clothing. Suddenly, a pair of sweaty panties were flung through the air as several men scrambled from their seats to acquire them. A resounding rip was heard between songs before the two men who each took hold of the string underwear began to brawl. 

From across the room, the bouncer on duty let out a long sigh, shrugging towards his coworker who replied with the same expression of ‘I don’t get paid enough for this shit’ as the pair opted to let the two other men fight it out. 

Chuckling from behind the beaten wooden counter, the bartender polished a highball before pouring a double of Scotch into the glass. Whistling to ensure he had the recipient's attention, he slid it down the counter to the man smoking at the end of the bar.

“Busy night?” The man at the end of the counter asked, taking the first sip of his drink before lighting the cigarette hanging loosely between his lips.

“Busy enough, sure ain’t hurting.” The bartender replied, “Heard the boss sent over a new dancer, some older broad.”

“Something about a deal gone south, it’s a debt settlement.” The other man replied as he took a long drag. “Sent me over ‘ere to make sure she dances. If she doesn’t, boss is gunna find other uses for her and if I know Black Mask, I’d sure as hell be shaking my ass off on that stage.”

“Lucky for you, it ain’t your ass literally on the line.” The bartender replied with a yellowed grin. Chuckling the other man nodding in agreement as he took another swig of his drink.

Turning back to the crowd, the bartender scanned the room as he took in the Alibi’s current patrons. The ageing nightclub was the nightly hangout to all manner of folks some of Gotham’s residents referred to as ‘unsavoury.’  Unlike establishments like the Iceberg Lounge and Casino, the Alibi didn’t bother with a false front. Most of Gotham’s police force knew what the Alibi was, but again, most of the GCPD were also dirty cops.

A sudden hush fell over the bar as the next dancer awkwardly walked onto the stage. Turning to look towards the man at the end of the counter, he exchanged a knowing smile with the bartender as the pair looked back towards the woman walking towards the pole.

“She doesn’t know what the fuck she’s doing.” The bartender scoff as the man at the end of took another drag on his cigarette.

“Yeah, but at least she looks good for ‘er age.” He admitted before adding, “Though I’m surprised the girls had a thong that fit 'round those ‘ips.” The man seated at the end of the counter took another sip of his drink, all while watching Lori Cunningham attempt to dance to the new-age industrial music the DJ was pumping out.

“‘Old up,” He yelled above the beat, waving his hands to signal to the DJ to kill the music. “Let's give ‘er a fighting chance. How about something you grew up with love?” The man asked Lori rhetorically, “Put on ‘Pour Some Sugar On Me,’ will ye?”

Suddenly every light in the bar went out as the speakers all went dead. Reaching for his phone, the man at the end of the bar fumbled it out of his pocket as he tried to unlock the device. Waiting for the screen to illuminate, he pressed the button again, mashing his thumb against the fingerprint scanner before slamming the device done on the counter.

“Fuckin’ thing’s dead.”

In the darkness, Lori’s screams rang out only to be quickly silenced an instant later. Blindly feeling for his sidearm, the man slid his thumb over the safety as he pulled the Beretta from the back of his belt. The darkness was suddenly broken by two glaring lights as a silhouette appeared on the stage. 

“Holy shit!” The man started only to be suddenly blinded as the figure’s chest lit up. A brightly illuminated bat symbol searing into his eyes as the man fired blindly towards the stage.

“It’s the fuckin’ Bat!” 

Drunken men scrambled to get out of the way as the Batman made his way forward from the stage, deactivating the beacon on his chest as Terry silently slipped into the darkness. Usually, he would have relied, over-relied if he was frank, on the suit’s cloak but it had been damaged during the fight with the Deevers. Nonetheless, the Batman was far from being out of tricks, and the EMP device he had used on the building was more than enough to restore his element of surprise. 

Watching the Batman come closer and closer through the darkness, the man quickly realized that the Bat was looking for him. Jumping the bar, he ducked behind the counter, tightly gripping his pistol with both hands. Suddenly two hands took hold of the man’s jacket, and he found himself quickly hauled over the hard countertop. Slammed down against the old oak, the man felt the gun dislodge from his hands before he was roughly slammed against the bar again.

As the lights began to flicker back to life, the man slowly surveyed the room around him before raising his head up and coming face to face with Gotham’s Dark Knight. Opening his mouth to speak, he was quickly interrupted as the Batman talked over him.

“Don’t even think about offering me a drink.” Terry growled from behind the mask as he brought Black Mask’s man even closer to him. “Lori Cunningham. Her debt is paid. She doesn’t work here anymore. She doesn’t owe you or your boss anything.”

“You can-”

“I just did,” Terry snarled, “And one more thing.” 

The man swallowed hard, opening his mouth only for the Batman to reply.

“Tell your boss, I’m coming for him next.”

Location: Gotham City Police Headquarters, Old Gotham - Bleake IslandPLACEHOLDER

The steady click of a pair of tall heels echoed down the narrow corridor between the steady slap of the pair of accompanying hard-soled boots. Straightening her pencil skirt before entering the interrogation room, the lawyer nodded a polite thanks towards her police escort before stepping into the room. A small man was waiting for her, his wrists in a pair of handcuffs that looked comically large compared to his stature. His clothing was ragged and well worn, full of patches and stained with what the lawyer could only guess was blood. Matted, thinning hair was parted atop his bulbous head the woman noted, taking the only other available seat at the table and situating herself across from the disgraced Doctor Jervis Tetch.  

Placing her briefcase on the table, the woman looked towards her client, clearing her throat to gain Tetch’s attention. But the man continued to stare straight ahead, his eyes passing right through the raven-haired woman as they were fixated upon the wall of one-way glass behind her. Looking down at her watch impatiently, Jaina Hudson cleared her throat again as she pulled out her case notes and laid them in front of Jervis. 

“Dr. Tetch, on behalf of a mutual friend.” Jaina stated, a posh accent punctuating every word with a matter-of-fact tone as she leaned forward over the table. Pulling at the lapel of her blazer aside, Jaina flashed a tattoo of a black Calavera that was barely visible beneath her blouse before she hastily readjusted herself and sat up again. 

“I’ve been paid a substantial sum of money to ensure that you do not go to Blackgate.” She continued looking towards the man for any sort of a response turning her wrist upwards to look at the gold plated watch wrapped around her wrist.

“You’re late.” Jervis suddenly spoke as Jaina raised an eyebrow. The man’s eyes were suddenly fixated upon her, scanning her from head to toe. Jaina could feel her skin crawl before steadying herself.

“I beg your pardon, Dr. Tetch, but I’m afraid I arrived at the agreed upon time. If my tardiness has somehow affected our working relationship, please allow me the chance to apologize, but I’m afraid we really must discuss the details-”

“You’re late, you’re late.” Tetch repeated, smiling as he leaned closer towards the bronzed skinned woman across the table from him. “For a very important date?” Jervis asked, his eyes motioning towards the watch adorning Jaina’s wrist.

“Dr. Tetch if you’re suggesting that we move for an insanity plea, then I fully agree. Our mutual friend and I both believe that the Arkham State Mental Institution and Hospital would be the best place for you.” Jaina stated, sliding her chair back as Jervis continue to lean over the table as far as his restraints would allow for. Suddenly he slumped back in his chair, his eyes returning to staring through Jaina as he fixated once again upon the pane of one-way glass.

“Very well, I’ll issue the plea to the courts. Don’t worry, Dr. Tetch, we’ll make sure you get the help you need.” The lawyer muttered quickly as she scrambled to pack her briefcase. Standing up, she knocked loudly on the door. A sudden chill began to travel down Jaina’s spine as Jervis spoke once more.

“No time to say hello or goodbye.” He muttered towards Jaina. “You’re late, you’re late... you’re late.”

As the door opened with a loud buzz, Jaina rushed through the portal. Her stomach almost turned as she rushed down the hallway, the Mad Hatter’s words ringing in her ears.

Location: Elliot Memorial Hospital, Burnley - Miagani IslandPLACEHOLDER

"...Metropolis’ Lex Luthor referred to Wayne Enterprises as a decaying corpse in a recent interview. Should the employees of Wayne/Sionis be concerned about their job security in such a competitive market with the likes of Luthor, Stark and Kord all fighting to corner the market…” 

”...Known financier Warren White was arrested in connection to drug trafficking. White is currently being held in police custody awaiting trial...”

“...Times Square was treated to a gruesome scene when the vigilante known as Daredevil publicly executed Wilson Fisk. Fisk, better known by his criminal alias, the Kingpin…” 

“...The Gotham Police Department has been able to close a series of disturbing unsolved murders due to an arrest made late last night. Eyewitnesses claim the Batman was involved; however, officers at the scene denied any involvement…”

“...Renowned hero and icon, Wonder Woman, has been called to Capitol Hill for a hearing regarding the brutality of her actions that were broadcasted from Transia. Supporters and protestors alike have come out in flocks today to state their opinion with some of the more vocal protestors calling for a metahuman registration…”

“Is there no good news in the world anymore?”

Dana muttered as she let out a laboured sigh. Clicking the remote again, she continued to cycle through the channels on the small television before finally settling on one of the generic music channels. Looking away from Allison Blaire’s latest music video, Dana turned her gaze towards Chelsea who lay sedated in the bed beside her.

It had been a fight for the nurses to stabilize Chelsea due to the condition the poor girl had been in when she was brought to the hospital. She had lost a lot of blood at the hands of the madman who had mutilated her body. Thankfully, the doctors had said she’d recover, although it would be a long process. It would take a couple more surgeries to completely repair all the damage, but it the trauma her mind had suffered through that the doctors were most concerned about.

Looking up, Dana’s eyes wandered to the other side of the room. Across from her sat Nelson in a less than comfortable armchair. Fatigue must have finally overtaken him as a slight smile turned up the corners of Dana’s mouth as she watched him snore loudly with his head slumped back against the back of the chair. 

Turning her attention back towards the television, Dana readjusted herself as she tried to find a comfortable way to sit in the hard plastic chair beneath her. Clutching her phone tightly in her hand, she looked downwards before unlocking and locking her phone again hoping for a new message from Terry. 

Terry had been the first to find out that the police had located Chelsea, contacting both Dana and Nelson to meet him at Elliot Memorial. Dana was certainly thankful for that, but she couldn’t help but wish he was here right now. He had left some time ago to grab the three of them food, but given how long he had been gone now, Dana couldn’t help but wonder if Bruce Wayne had once again stolen her boyfriend away from her. She let out an exasperated sigh, slumping further into the chair. Some days, it felt like she was everything to Terry and then other days it felt like she was always going to be playing second fiddle to Bruce Wayne and Dana wasn’t sure how much of a future the pair would have if there were three people involved in their relationship. Even her own overbearing parents remained out of her relationship with Terry in comparison to Bruce Wayne. 

A soft rap on the door stirred Dana from her thoughts as the smell of grease wafted past her nose. She looked up to see Terry leaning against the door frame, a couple of paper bags grasped in his hand as he motioned for Dana to come to see him. 

“What took you so long?” Dana asked as the pair backed out the room, closing the door behind them. 

“I ran into Mrs. Cunningham.” Terry whispered, “Chelsea’s father got mixed up in some pretty bad business. She said she had to go down to the station to identify the body, had no idea Chelsea was even missing until I told her she was here.”

“That’s horrible!” Dana exclaimed before covering her mouth with both hands as Terry pulled her closer to him. Wrapping his arms around her, Terry gave Dana a quick squeeze before she continued to speak, her voice cracking more with each word. “She’s never going to come back from this, Ter.”

From within Chelsea’s room came another loud sob as the pair looked up to see Lori sobbing over her daughter as Nelson was trying to comfort the woman. Looking away, Dana buried her face against Terry’s jacket as he placed a hand on her back before speaking.

“She’ll need all the love and support we can give her, but she will pull through. Chelsea is a fighter, she’s not about to allow herself to be defined by this.”

“I hope you’re right, Ter,” Dana muttered as she pulled back to look up the taller man. “I hope you’re right.”

Location: UnknownPLACEHOLDER

The light of the computer screen was the only source of illumination in the dark room as the man hunched over the keyboard cracked his fingers. Watching the progress bar on the bottom of the screen waiting anxiously for the file transfer to complete. Turning on his VPN, Lonnie Machlan launched his browser before going to his most frequented site and entering the credentials  for ‘MoneySpider’. 

A beep echoed in the small space as it rang out from his speakers, signalling the file had finished transferring. Removing his phone from the USB port, Lonnie pocketed the device before cueing up the video. 

“Lori Cunningham. Her debt is paid. She doesn’t work here anymore. She doesn’t owe you or your boss anything.”

The Batman’s menacing voice boomed out of the speakers as Lonnie began to splice the video together. His fingers flew across the keyboard as he started to type in a frenzy, the Batman was the spark. It was precisely what Lonnie needed to motivate people. Cueing up his equipment, Lonnie began to speak to the computer as he recorded his words.

“People of Gotham, rise up! For too long, you’ve survived on the scraps and toss-offs of those who would oppress you. You’re less than a dog to the likes of Fox, Sionis and Wayne, the men who sit atop their ivory towers and lord your hard work over you. You work your fingers to the bones so they can afford another vacation.” Lonnie snarled into the monitor before splicing in the clip of Batman at the Alibi.

“And one more thing. Tell your boss, I’m coming for him next.”

“Tell your boss, you’re coming for them. We won’t be ignored. We’re hungry, and it’s time to eat the fucking rich.” 
PlaceholderNext Issue: Chaos in Gotham - A Crisis Tie-In

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Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by Retired

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Retired "Hayao Miyazaki"

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Retired

"Hayao Miyazaki"

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Manhattan, New York City | Present Day
Chapter One | Part Five

Adrenaline surged through his body. The rhythmic thumping in his chest synchronized with the furious pumping of his legs. He rounded what felt like the tenth corner, sneakers skidding across the loose dirt and pebbles. Hastily navigating the labyrinthian back alleys with the telltale sounds of a struggle guiding his path, Eli grit his teeth as another scream from Starfire rang out. 

Damn it, he cursed. Not fast enough. 

Rounding the final corner, Elijah skidded to a stop, nearly toppling over at the abrupt reversal of momentum. He narrowly avoided colliding with a man sailing through the air, the body slamming hard against a brick wall. Following the trajectory of the man, Eli spotted Koriand'r floating several feet above the ground. 

She appeared in rough shape. Her shirt was torn, portions completely missing, and almost looked to be melted at the edges. Her golden skin was blotched red in some spots, and her forearms looked nearly blistered. Fists balled tightly and green eyes flaring with energy, the alien girl loomed over the man she had just thrown. 

"That is enough. You are defeated. I do not wish to hurt you any further."

Eli allowed himself a mental sigh of relief as he realized Koriand'r had the situation handled, albeit a little worse for wear in the process. He looked towards the man who was nursing a small gash across the forehead. Looking to be in his 30's, the man wore dark, heavy clothing with sleeves rolled up to reveal comprehensive inkwork. The word 'melter' was featured prominently in gaudy text along one arm. And, Eli couldn't be sure, but as the man slowly shuffled to his feet there appeared to be track marks noticeable around the inside of an elbow.

"Shit, man!" A new voice swore loudly.

The sudden cursing reminded Elijah that he had been warned of multiple men participating in an attack on a kid. Glancing to his left, Eli spotted the other perpetrator cowering against a wall. More handsome and with softer features than his partner, this one looked terrified as his eyes flicked between the two combatants. 

Eli's gaze then drifted over further to notice the prone form of a young, green-skinned boy. He barely had enough time to register this unusual appearance before he heard Koriand'r shouting in his direction. Whipping his head back around, the teen was confronted by the tattooed man's raised arm. Elijah wasn't aware of the danger until the outstretched hand glowed with crimson. Eyes widening, he reacted too slowly as the energy radiated forth. 

His vision was filled with fiery red. Koriand'r quickly positioned herself before him, throwing her arms in a cross to shield him from the blast. Eli could feel no heat from the energy, but he watched as his friend's skin bubbled and began to peel away slightly. She let out an angry yell and launched her body forward, forcing her way through the attack to once more confront the powered individual.

Eli stumbled back, catching himself before he fell. Holy fucking shit! 

He stared in amazement as the two fought before him. Koriand'r doing her best to subdue the man without serious harm while her foe relentlessly unleashed wave after wave of that unknown energy. 

This is... Eli's thoughts both raced and struggled to form coherently. I knew they existed. I've seen what Starfire could do. But... Jesus shit Christ.

Even despite his panic, Eli wanted to join the fight. His muscles tensed as he watched, hoping to find an opening to help Koriand'r take the man down. But as he witnessed another crimson beam streak past Koriand'r, he knew that this conflict was far above his weight class. Eli dug his fingers hard into each palm out of frustration.

Taking a second to focus himself, Eli forced his gaze away from the superpowered struggle. The boy was the real priority, he knew. When he looked back towards the kid, Elijah saw the handsome man bending down to drag the body away. 

Eli charged forward, reacting on pure instinct, and closed the distance in a few strides. Dropping his right shoulder down, he bodychecked the would-be-abductor causing both to topple over one another. The two scrambled back off the ground quickly, squaring off. Despite the fear etched across his attractive face, the man still managed to snarl at Eli as he produced a switchblade from a pocket. 

Elijah moved into a defensive position. "You don't wanna do this, man." 

Switching his hold on the knife to an underhanded grip, the man nervously took a step forward. "I need the kid. I can't leave here without him."

"That's not happening."

Rushing forward, the handsome man held his arm up high intending to bring it down onto Elijah's chest. The blade never found its mark, however, as Eli immediately stepped forward to face the attack head-on. Throwing his left hand up to deflect the blow and pushing his wrist against his attacker's, Eli simultaneously let loose with a well-practiced punch to the man's neck. 

Spittle flew as the man coughed and doubled over. Driving forward with his counterattack, Eli quickly gained control of the wrist, locking it into place. Two knee strikes to the gut and groin immediately followed, and while the man clutched at his stomach Eli took the opportunity to rake the knife out of his grasp. Tossing the blade to the side, Eli shoved the man to gain distance. 

"Are we through here?" Eli asked despite it being clear the man was out of commission for the moment. 

His body felt on fire as the adrenaline raced through his system. Elijah had sparred with training partners more times than he could count over the last six years, but he had never been in a real fight until now, let alone one with stakes so high.

"Hey!" A voice quietly called out. "Quick, while the guy's down, grab the kid."

For the second time that day, Eli startled and nearly fell backward. To his right, a spectral figure rose from within the ground. Through a mass of brunette curls, the voice spoke again.

"I know, I know. Not what you were expecting. Ooh, scary mutant girl," she said in a mock spooky voice. "You can freak out later, right now you need to pick the kid up and run away."

The ghostly young woman looked back over her shoulder as she finished emerging from the asphalt. Pointing, she said, "your friend's tough, but I'm not sure she can last much longer."

The girl was right. Eli could see Koriand'r had taken more direct blasts and while certain that she could win the fight in the long run, he didn't know what shape she would be in by the end if she continued to hold back. A predicament Eli knew he was partially responsible for as he had stressed earlier in the day she would have to be careful not to hurt anyone. He had been expecting regular thugs and criminals, though, not someone enhanced who could take a beating.

Right, he mentally agreed. Time to go.

Scooping up the green-skinned boy in his arms, Eli afforded a glance at his defeated attacker. The man was already recovering, albeit still clutching his gut in pain, and was dragging himself away from the conflict. He knew there was nothing that could be done now but leaving an attempted kidnapper and murderer behind to escape left a bad taste in Elijah's mouth. He turned to ask the ghost girl if she planned to follow but she had already disappeared as suddenly as had arrived. 

He called out toward the duo still locked in battle. "Starfire, I've got the victim. Give me a thirty-second head start then follow me."

"But," Koriand'r ducked under an energy beam. "what of this man? Will he not escape?"

"Doesn't matter right now, the longer we stay here the more danger this kid is in. And I don't want you getting seriously hurt, either."

She hesitated for a moment before responding. "I understand. You will have your thirty seconds. Leave now, please."

The last thing Elijah saw before he turned and ran back down the labyrinth of an alley was another blast clip Koriand'r in the leg. Gritting his teeth and slinging the unconscious child over his shoulder, he forced himself to move quickly. 

No shame in a retreat, Eli. He reassured his conflicted mind. Just keep the civilian safe. Make grandad proud.

He repeated this in his head like a comforting mantra as the young man and new hero carried the boy to safety.

Make grandad proud.

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Hidden 5 yrs ago → 5 yrs ago Post by webboysurf

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webboysurf Live, Laugh, Love

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Live, Laugh, Love

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Triskellion, Washington D.C. - Present DayIssue 1.02.1: So What'cha Want
Interaction(s): Arsenal and Captain AmericaPreviously: 1.04.5: From Here to Eternity and 1.01.6: Sweet Child O’ Mine

Roy slacked his jaw for a moment as the screen went black in the SHIELD facility. His mind was in over-drive. He looked about at the various projects on his plate. He had managed to get a few of the Tinkerer’s devices working again, as per Coulson’s request. He glanced briefly at the hardcover files sitting on his desk. He had just finished the Falcon prototype and run it through testing, but it was a piece of technology even Harper didn’t feel comfortable testing yet. He could bring it with him just in case.

No, what Roy needed was something to counter those… things. They were burrowing into the necks of civilians and driving them mad. He needed a temporary fix… something to keep him becoming one of them. Porcupine was a maybe… but what he really needed was something stronger. Roy’s eyes almost flicked over one file that had been tossed at the top of the shred pile. He picked it up, going over the specs. The “battle suits” from Trasnia were barely operational and nowhere near suitable for human use. Dr. Mason had managed to get some of the armor to mimicking a “suiting up” process, but…

Roy smiled, and began pushing the flatbed cart with a few crates aboard out of the lab. He had a feeling he knew what team would be mobilizing first.

”Wheels up in ninety seconds, Captain.” A squadron of SHIELD agents were busy as the Captain was busy readjusting the strap on his new gauntlet. He had grown use to his more covert suit, but his updated "stars and stripes" uniform would do for an operation on this scale. Rogers himself was strapping his shield onto his back as he picked out an ICER sidearm from an open crate and holstered it.

He heard some unintelligible shouting as he turned to board the quinjet, and sighed as he saw a man in a sleeveless red outfit pushing a flatbed cart at full speed in his direction. Cap placed his palm on his sidearm, raising his left hand in Roy’s direction. ”Authorized personnel only.”

Roy rolled his eyes, not backing down as he continued pushing full speed. ”Roy Harper, level 5 Initiative.” As he barreled forward, he saw the Captain draw his sidearm and lift it up, and swore under his breath. ”I was Green Arrow’s sidekick, and I can help you.”

Steve grit his teeth, holstering his weapon as Roy rolled the ramp onto the jet. The SHIELD agents inside gave an expectant look to Captain Rogers, who gave them a nod. They immediately began unloading the crates to secure them before takeoff. Captain Rogers yanked the now-empty cart backwards while making eye-contact with Roy, and it briskly rolled out of the jet and into the hangar. ”You’ve got thirty seconds to make a compelling case. You can take longer, but that would be a nasty fall, soldier.”

Roy took a deep breath, having practiced this speech a few times in his head already. ”Initiative trained. I was an informant for your operation in Vlatava. Regardless, I’m good with tech, and Fury had me look at those suits from Trasnia. I might be able to keep a few of us safe from those… things.” Roy jabbed a few of his fingers into the back of his neck to childishly imitate the bugs burrowing into the base of the neck.

Steve raised an eyebrow, turned his gaze towards the other SHIELD agents, and gave a curt nod. ”Romanoff is with Fury mobilizing the Helicarrier, and Masters is leading Bravo Squad. You just earned yourself a battlefield promotion, soldier.” He quickly went to his seat and entered into the cockpit, taking the co-pilot seat. Captain Rogers shouted over his shoulder, ”Strap in boys, Non-Stop to NYC”

Roy remained standing, grabbing onto a harness from the ceiling and clutching it for dear life as the jet began to rise vertically off the ground for a few moments before rocketing off North towards New York City.

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Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by Hexaflexagon

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Hexaflexagon

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Jailbreak In Fairyland IV

The Royal Palace, Guest Quarters, Faerie
Much to Zatanna's dismay Voodoo's definition of waiting involved the older man locked away in his bedroom with several books he borrowed from the castle library on Faerie legal procedure. The magician cramming harder than a student during finals week left Zatanna trying to find some way to occupy herself until dinner. Partially spurred on by her companion's sudden bibliophile streak and partially because she finally had a moment to rest, Zatanna conjured up her Father's journals from the small fold in reality that she had tucked them away into since leaving the estate and spread them out across her bed.

They numbered nearly two dozen collectively, picking the one closest to her up Zatanna weighed it experimentally in her hands. Immediately she was struck by two things: first was the weight which seemed uncharacteristically heavy for the journal's slender profile and the smoothness of its black leather covering on her fingertips and palms. The journals were something that he took very seriously as something that his father before him did as well. In that way Giovanni used to refer to the journals in conversation Zatanna with a kind of reverence that one usually reserved for the divine. The elder Zatara going as far as getting the leather from the same farmers near Naples that his ancestors did. Yet where those journals of old served primarily as monetary ledgers, Giovanni's journals held much more esoteric knowledge.

Cracking open the journal held in her hands and experimentally flipped to the last page. The only thing deceriable to a normal observer was the date which places the entry about a month before Giovanni's death. Beyond that though, the page was filled with a strange array of markings and shapes that took up the majority of the page. A look of bemusement slowly transformed to a small smile of recognition as she quickly ran into the studying gathering up a pen and some paper.

Dealing with magical powers that had the capacity to unravel reality's fragile threads on a daily basis Giovanni never recorded anything using traditional methods. The effects of some malicious party getting a hold of his spell book would of been too catastrophic. Instead, the magician wrote everything through a complicated series of ciphers of his own design, the man spending a year teaching himself the ins and outs of traditional cryptography techniques just to ensure that it was up to snuff. And just to be sure, the cipher's key was not written down it had to be painstakingly memorized, a process which father forced upon daughter. At the time, Zatanna hated the lessons and the pneumatic devices she had to remember to get a grasp on the sequence, but now all that hard work was coming to fruition. With the speed of someone drafting a message in their native tongue, Zatanna quickly began to decode the entry 

As the entry neared its completion it became apparent that it wasn't an entry at all, it was an incantation weaved into the very ink that lined the page. A last layer of defense entrusting that only Giovanni or his progeny were able to activate the enchantment with their magic-infused words. Upon its completion, Zatanna began to recite the command phrase backwards and as she did the scribbles in the journal began to glow with a purplish hue. Zatanna reached out to touch the now glowing page and as she did purple filled her vision and the smell of roasted beans hit her nose.

"More espresso sir?"

Mister Tong stood next to her hoisting a silver platter upward with a medium sized clear decanter filled with black liquid. They were back in her father's study and she was sitting at his desk the journal from previously placed atop of it. Reflexively, Zatanna attempted to move away from the large butler and cast a spell in defense before he could transform and attack. But Zatanna found that she was unable to move and when she did speak it was a voice that while deeply familiar was not her own. It's gruff texture of years of cigar smoking smoothed over by whiskey, deep and rich. 

"No grazie Tong, I should really be getting to sleep soon."

"Yes sir, of course sir"

"Oh and Tong?" Giovanni asked as the butler slowly inched backwards out of the room.

"Yes sir?"

"Did Zatanna ever respond about dinner tomorrow?"

"Unfortunately, I have not heard from her sir."

Zatanna felt a sad and heavy sigh escape from her chest.

"That's alright! We will just have to try for next Sunday."

"Of course sir."

As Tong exited the room and the door clicked behind him, Giovanni rested his hands upon the desk as he looked over the journal. They seemed older and more frail than Zatanna remembered. The skin was pulled tight around the bones permanently displaying his veins as they ran up into his arms. He had let his fingernails go slightly overgrown as what looked like dirt was slowly began to build up along the edge. He pulled them together bunching them up closely as he began to speak to himself. As the words left his mouth the coded seal began to take shape on the page.

"I had the same dream again. Gotham, a city of corpses and that infernal abomination at its center. This can't be a coincidence, someone or something must be trying to communicate with me. To what end I do not know but it is becoming painstakingly clear that I must find out before this horrid prophecy comes to pass, for all our sakes. 

I must consult others in this matter. My knowledge has been stretched thin and no books in my library speak of any such creature. Tomorrow, I will travel to New York and speak with Strange hopefully the Sorcerer Supreme will be able to put me on the right track...."

And with another burst of purple Zatanna was once again sitting cross legged on the bed, the purple glow now faded from the text in front of her. She picked up her discarded pen and placed the butt in her mouth and chewed on it softly, a distraught maths tutor and one long session with a tongue depressor later having taught her not to apply too much pressure. Chewing away on the pen, Zatanna tried her best to process the new information she gained, let alone the fact that her father had constructed mini-windows into his past that she could just peer into like a tank in an aquarium.

After a few restless minutes of chewing it became clear to Zatanna that she wasn't getting anywhere with the new information. Frustrated, she tossed her pen across the room letting it clatter against the far. Soom the young magician got it into her head that it was the environment that was the problem. The dark gray stone of the walls, the significant lack of a singular window, and the old wooden bed frame made Zatanna feel like she was some rebellious nobles daughter shuttered away in a nunnery to avoid any scandals, and it was making her restless. The increasing tension only furthered an urge in Zatanna to find a shower. 

It was a silly thing really, the showering. The shower was one of the only places where she was able to have any privacy as a child, her only impregnable bastion from house staff and tutors. And so a routine slowly began to establish itself, needed to cry? It was time for a shower. Needed to yell? Time for a shower. Needed to think? Time for a shower. The rushing water served as the walls of her constructed hideaway where all her other problems could melt away. Of course such mechanisms had their drawback, particularly after one rough month including a rough breakup, a friend then immediately afterwards sleeping with her ex and a chemistry exam that left her scrambling to explain to her father why the water bill was so high.

The memory of her father's bemused expression managed to crack a small smile across her face, a smile that quickly faded as she looked at the journals spread out around her. All he'd ever cared about was making sure that she was ready to take up the fight when he was gone. The talk he had with her after the shower incident was exclusively about how a Zatara couldn't run away or hide in a shower, they had to stand and fight or the world could fall into darkness. And now, there she was scouring through his journals and chasing after his ghosts, he had gotten exactly he'd wanted. And yet since he died, all she could think about were the good times. Those rare moments when she actually felt like she had a father and not a strict magic tutor that only checked in on her every other week.

Feeling worse off than she started, Zatanna stowed the journals back into their fold in reality and exited the bedroom. She didn't know how long she had been in there minutes maybe, hours? The confusion only further worsened by the lack of any sort of timekeeping device and looking outside wasn't any help either revealing only a sea of perpetual twilight above as below crawling forward endlessly. Whatever time it was, she had to assume that she had enough time to find some sort of bathroom before dinner. Before she ventured outside though she walked over to the still closed door of Voodoo's chamber, experimentally she pulled at the hand which gave way as the door swung upon.

Voodoo sat cross legged on the floor a series of books each as thick as Zatanna's skull sprawled out around him in a semicircle. In his own lap was his own big black book where he was taking down notes with a pen. As he was writing, Zatanna couldn't help but notice the fact that he was having a conversation with himself. Commenting here or there about a particular line to back up a claim or refute an unspoken argument. 

"Well obviously I've already thought of that! Who do you take me for exactly? You know I was always the smarter one."

Zatanna knocked on the door.

"Huh?" Voodoo looked up startled but the tension released from his shoulders when he saw it was only Zatanna 

"I'm I interrupting something?" Zatanna asked cocking a brow as she did.

"No, no, of course not!" Voodoo explained with a smile.

"You sure? Because you sure were having an illuminating conversation with your self" Zatanna stated as she peered around the room double checking behind the door to make sure nobody was there.

"You should try it sometime," Voodoo admitted with a shrug "you'll be surprised how insightful it can be."

"Maybe I will," Zatanna coincided with a shrug "anyway I just wanted to tell you that I was going to go find a bathroom of some kind. I need to get clean and presentation before dinner."

There was something strange going on and Zatanna knew it, but was wise enough not to prod into it at the moment. It was on the same grounds of perhaps being a better conversation for later did she justify not telling Vodoo about what she learned from her father's journals. The older man was obviously busy with his research and she could delve deeper into the dreams on her own. Instead tactfully shifted the conversation towards her intended topic of discussion. 

"Alright," Voodoo replied, there was a reluctance in his voice but he agreed anyway perhaps reminded of their spat from earlier "just try and not get into any trouble"

"No promises!"

"And close the door! The draft is dreadful!" He added exasperated as she turned to leave.

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Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by Bounce

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G O T H A M    C O U N T Y
Abandoned Farmstead

The tourists visiting the old farmstead piled out of some expensive rides. Cadillac Escalades. Lincoln Navigators. Even a Porche Macan. It was a lot of money to be out in the unincorporated parts of Gotham County. Especially a zip code where the median income was below the national poverty line.

Shrugging off his duster, the former Boy Wonder stalked through the corn as he wound his way to a strategic vantage point from which to observe the group arrive and then disembark their vehicles.

This was most likely a pick up. The bulk of the groupies were straggling inside of the farmstead. They’d likely be back with their arms full of high flammable product.

For the last twenty years, Dick’s Nightwing suit had remained unchanged. He’d experimented with red iconography once upon a time, but it hadn’t stuck. The bird symbol emblazoned across the chest was in the same muted shade of blue. One thing was different though, as the trousers had clearly shrunk. Maybe it was the wash. Or the spandex just hadn’t held up over time. Whatever the case may have been, Dick’s lower half was dressed in a pair of comfortable sweatpants.

They may not have been the most stylish thing that Nightwing could have worn, but Dick was certain that he’d never had a costume that was this comfortable.

Removing the glasses that he wore for driving at night, the man pressed a domino mask against his face. As it slid into place, the eye slits became faintly illuminated as the lens took over, supplying a HUD interface that also corrected for Dick’s aging vision.

He’d definitely have to pop an Advil later.

He burst from out of the cornfield without a single sound. His movements were not the lithe, acrobat finesse of his youthful years. Now, he moved more like Bruce had. Float like a butterfly, sting like a Batman.

He took down the first goon with a single hit, ducking and weaving as the confusion allowed him time in which to take the second with a two-hit combo. The third managed to clear his gun from out of the waistband of his jeans, but it slipped to the ground with the safety still on as Dick’s fist connected with the man’s face.

“Arghhh,” the Nightwing growled under his breath. As he stepped into that last punch, he tried to flex his knee and felt the joint lock up on him. Arthritic pain shot up his leg, radiating at the hip even as Dick’s shoulder began to ache.

He was officially too old for this.

Leaving the goons on the ground, Dick started to move across the yard toward the barn. As he did, he pulled out his burner phone and tried to dial Toyboy again.

Caller not available. 

Just what was that robot up to?

+ - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - +
Gotham Corridor Self Storage
Bludhaven, New Jersey | Present Day

The Toy Wonder took another step back.

Anton Schott, face obscured behind the head of a porcelain doll that he was wearing as a mask, continued to loom over the red-and-black attired Robin. “I’ve done everything in my power to help the little one’s survive in this sad, cruel world,” the man declared, arms outstretched as though to indicate the rows of kennel-like cages in which children were huddled and dirty.

Now fully illuminated, the interior of the room told a very different story. Table tops and tools bore the evidence of blood stains. Parts of bodies were visible in trash cans. 

“Survive?” the doll tossed back at his former master and confidant. Taking a step forward, the young-looking Robin at last stopped his retreat and instead stood his ground as he angrily answered, “There are dying children in these cages!”

“Some had to sacrifice so that others could live,” Anton barked, gesturing wildly. His hand grabbed hold of a length of chain that was dangling from the ceiling. Slowly, the man pulled on the chain. Toyboy could hear the sound of a pulley system, his eyes glancing up and then to the side as he tried to determine the mechanism at work.

“As children they are helpless. But, as dolls no one can ever hurt them again.”

From the corners of the room, shadows were starting to emerge. Small, thin silhouettes that revealed themselves to be feral children as they came into view.

They had the same mask, wearing the blissful expression of a porcelain doll over their faces. Some still had all their fingers and toes. Others had their limbs replaced with weapons. 

“Not even you!”

Schott’s taunt was almost lost, the man’s voice drowned out by the sound of two buzz-saws whirling to life. A boy charged at the doll. His forearms had been amputated at the elbow, replaced with mitre saws in place of his hands. The feral child was snapping and spitting at the Toyboy, as he slashed at the doll with broad sweeps of his arm.

There was a rush of air. From the corner of his peripheral vision, Toyboy was aware of a girl whose left forearm had been replaced with an oxy-acetylene torch. Aiming that out at Robin, the hiss of compressed gas heralded the flame.

Lashing out with his leg, Toyboy kicked the Saw-Boy in the chest with sufficient force to lift the child off his feet and knock him several feet through the air. The stream of flames shot out at him the next second, as the Toy Wonder took shelter behind the nomex cape.

He pulled a batarang from the utility with his free hand. Logic processors were compiling data, composing an actionable sequence that would adequately address the present threat. He needed to sever the oxygen line on the Torch-Girl’s arm. The batarang should be sufficient for the task, though the trajectory of attack would require fifteen-pounds-per-square-inch of force with a thirty degree angle of attack.

There were also two more feral children circling around to advance behind him. As he threw the batarang, the pivot motion would supply leverage from which he could cartwheel out of the line of attack, pushing one child into the other. 

It was a design that took Toyboy precisely 0.485 seconds to compose.

Sliding on his back foot, the doll dropped his cape and then stepped through into the motion of tossing the batarang. The wing tip bounced harmlessly off the metal of the girl’s arm, but the rubber tube was pinched and ruptured, prompting her shrill yelp as the torch blossomed out in a fireball.

Stepping with the motion of the flow, Toyboy’s body followed through into a cartwheel that took him off center, two feral children colliding in the spot where Robin had been just a moment earlier. Shoving the two of them off to the side, Toyboy’s attention was distracted by the return of Saw-Boy.

Reaching up with his left hand, Toyboy grabbed hold of the boy’s mitre saw arm. The pair struggled for a moment, before Toyboy had his right hand on the boy’s other arm as well. 

Pulling the Saw-Boy toward him, Toyboy pitched forward so that their foreheads connected. The Saw-Boy went limp as he was stunned, guided down to the floor as the doll turned his attention back to the son of his creator.

“Psychopath,” the boy snapped, in an uncharacteristic bout of anger.

This time, it was Anton Schott who took a step back.

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Hidden 5 yrs ago → 5 yrs ago Post by Archangel89

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Archangel89 NEZUKO-CHANNNNNNNNNNNNNN!!!!!

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NEZUKO-CHANNNNNNNNNNNNNN!!!!!

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Location: New Mexico - Unnamed AFB, 1954 DayChapter #1:A Father's Love - Memories from Home
Interaction(s): NonePreviously: The Hunt Begins

Of all the things that had been built in this dark underground hole this chapel was the one thing that Father insisted be built within this concrete prison. He said that if we were to fight evil then we must have the presence of God in everything that we do. At the moment there were only Father and himself sitting down going through the daily prayers Hellboy looked up at the figure of the hanging Jesus and couldn't help but feel slightly uneasy about it. He had seen the way the soldiers looked at him whenever they so happened to catch a glance or hear the things they would say about him. He must have been too long out of prayer when the stern but gentle voice of Father scolded him, 

"Hellboy, God is not one have His prayers unfinished. Why have you stopped?"

The pause quickly became long and uncomfortable as Hellboy slowly turned to his father,

"Father, am I the Devil?"

The genuine shock on Professor Brooms face actually caught him by surprise. One would think that having a child that looked like he did would raise the question a bit sooner than it did with the professor. 

"No Hellboy, you are not the Devil! Who on earth would put such a terrible thought in your head?

"I see the way the soldiers look at me and I can hear what they say. They think that I am some sort of monster...I didn't do anything to them. Why do they hate me?"

As hard as he tried to stop them tears began streaming down the crimson child's face and a sob built itself from a whimper as Professor Broom quickly embraced his ward in a tight hug.

"Hellboy people hate what they do not understand and fear what cannot be explained. We all have the choice to be the boogeyman in the scary stories, but if you truly believe yourself to be good then you let your actions make them see. All you need to concern yourself with is that God has a plan and purpose for you and that I love you very much my son."

Hearing the Professor call him his son was the last straw, as Hellboy broke down into uncontrollable sobbing. He never missed a service after that day...taking what his father said to heart. God must have a plan...he simply must.

November 12tH, 2019- 21:20 |Ellowyn's Tomes - Troll Market, New York
'What a weird time to think about that.

Hellboy walked through the Market lost deep within his own mind as the residents of the community parted like the Red Sea for him. Paying no heed to the mass of creatures Hellboy pondered over the vampire that he just ashed in the alley not twenty feet behind him, particularly the fact that a vampire was looking for information about the Ogdru Jahad. He had been doing this a very long time and most vampires tended to keep to themselves and their underground but understood agreement with humanity, so why was this Deacon Frost wanting to get his hands on this book. Looking down at the book in his stone hand he inspected more closely. The worn leather cover was beginning to tatter in some places, it's binding made from thick leather strings and pages had to be from papyrus or some other paper like substance. The writing on the inside, however, was the most concerning. Like he said to ashy in the alley it was pre Sanskrit, the Old Language, and while he couldn't read most of it certain words stood out.  Ogdru Jahad, Hand of Doom, End of Days and the rest were lost to the ages. The fact a vampire, who by most accounts stays within their lane and feeds when in need, is looking into the Ogdru Jahad did not sit well with Hellboy. 

Returning to Ellowyn's with the idea to get some answers, perhaps the old elf would be able to give him more info. 

"Hey Elly, thanks for the heads up. Ya did good to lemme know…"

"Don't flatter yourself devil. I care little for your praises, no one needs to know about the old dragons. They should stay locked away where they belong."

"And ta that we agree. Speaking of, I need to know what's in this book. Whatever this vampire was looking for in here was enough to brave the Market. Can ya translate this for me?"

"I am a merchant, not a scholar. This job is more suited for another. Is there not another soul that you can torment with your presence?"

With a long drawn out sigh Hellboy stared at the book as a moment of silence grew between the two. Yes there was someone else who could translate the book. But to do so would bring up a great deal of mess that he wasn't willing to deal with. Abe. The BPRD and him were not on the beat of terms and to get to Abe he would have to deal with...Him. 

"Yeh Elly I do. Just don't feel like dealing with them at the moment. Sigh… Well I need to figure out this vampire angle, what do you know about them?"

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Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by Dblade26

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Location:  Star City, Underneath the Queen EstateCrisis! Part 1 
Interaction(s): NonePreviously: Queen's Heir Epilogue: Sweet Child O' Mine 

"Look Stanley, all I'm saying is 'The Quiver' sounds way cooler than 'The Arrow-Cave'. I mean, I get it, this is literally a bunch of caves and I'm the Arrow but arrows rest in quivers, not caves."

It didn't really feel much like a cave network anymore, now that Connor was used to being down here. The walls and floor were worn down and polished smooth to the touch, the air was usually fresh with a mix of ozone and air freshner scents from filtration systems, and Connor hadn't heard any creepy skittering even once. Nothing but humming from  the fluorescent lighting that made target practice easier.

Good thing too, considering that target practice made up most of Connor's day for who knew how long since his hand finished healing. He'd just finished his tenth bullseye of ten and sat down at the big computer when Stanley started lecturing him about needing to leave the cave more. Again. The tangent was just a handy distraction.

"Well, you're free to take that up with Speedy the next time he comes back, since the name was his idea. It hardly changes the fact that apart from going out to fight crime you haven't left the estate once!"

"I agree! Connor needs to get a social life and maybe a better civilian identity!"

Connor and Stanley both whirled around in shock as the screens of the Cave's computer lit up one-by-one. She had a new voice distorter, but it was definitely: 

Stanley spluttered for a second before putting that same warm, unshakeable mask back on. "And just how long have you had access to our computer systems Miss..."

"It's Overwatch, and I've been poking around in here since Connor turned his phone back on in the cave for movie night. This thing is definitely better than my old rig."

Stanley glanced over at Connor, eyebrow raised, but he just shrugged. He had no idea how Overwatch did anything she did.

"In any case she's right, you need to expand your horizons beyond just vigilantism and training. You've been put in my care and it's become blatantly obvious that you need a life, friends, a chance to be young-"

"Look I appreciate what you're trying to do but what I need is to train enough to beat that Dark Archer and keep the city stable. Things might have calmed a little for now but open war could break out any day and I've gotta-"

"Got to what? Run yourself ragged being Green Arrow every moment of the day? Doing nothing but training here and patrolling? When was the last time you saw daylight without stopping a robbery? You've hardly been up to the estate either. You may have been living in a monastery before but-"

"But what? Because I don't think that-"

guys!

The young vigilante and bristling butler turned back toward Overwatch and the monitors, startled out of their argument by the worry still clear through her modified voice.

"You're both...really gonna need to see this"

"The time of Men has come to an end." Weird pointy bucket helmet or not, it was clear to Connor that whatever this guy wanted, it was the exact opposite of good. 

"You sit atop your ivory towers and in your arrogance believe yourselves to be the superior people. You think your government, your armies, your heroes can keep you safe- that they will protect you from people like me. You're all fools. I am called Stryfe, and we are the Metahuman Supremacy Front. We will show America- and humanity- humility. We will tear down your palaces, put to the pyre your precious law and order. We will show you how truly vulnerable your nation really is. Safety is an illusion."

Yeah, definitely not good. Brick had liked his ominous speeches about power and ideals too but this was a whole new level of criminal.

"This is your reckoning."

"Can you trace this creep?" the words were already halfway out of his mouth before Stryfe finished his crazy speech

"I'm already on it but I don't know what we can do for New York except-

"No wait! Look!"

Star City locations were flashing up on the screen along with the New York ones.

"One in front of the Grell Museum, one in front of City Hall in Orchid Bay, a third in Avalon Park and another in the heart of the Glades. They've even got one up at the tower capping Star Bridge, must've disguised it as maintenance on the big star installation." As Stanley mentioned each one, Overwatch brought up a video feed of the location on one of the computer's many screens and held it there. Oddly enough, as each one came up any people visible on screen paused to look at their phones. After a second even Connor's Arrow-Phone pinged loudly and flashed, and he realized Overwatch must've hacked into the city's emergency alert system. People started to hurry away from the art installations, clearly frightened.

Still this changed things. Changed everything. Connor was already dashing up and fitting himself into the suit and gear before Stanley finished listing off the locations. Oliver's more high-tech style of quiver and arrows was heavier on his back but he'd already had plenty of practice moving with them and the actual armoring was light and mobile so he shouldn't have any problems.

"Oh, my God."

Connor turned his head to check what caused Stanley's outburst and froze, his jaw slacked in awe and terror. Clouds of tiny robots had swarmed over everyone around, on every screen. Overwatch's warning was clearing the area but not fast enough, and the odd weapon found a horrifying amount of victims...

...only for them to rise unharmed and start attacking.

"Okay, we've got zombies. Like, 28 Days Later fast-zombies."

Connor was still frozen, his shaking hands the only part of him that could move. This was so far beyond anything he'd ever dealt with. This was crazy, impossible, way too much. How could he really help, how could anyone-

He jolted as a hand came down on his shoulder and then Stanley was face to face with him, pressing Oliver's bow into his hands. He took it, shakes dying down as the Queen family butler gave him a grim little smile and straightened the costume out, adjusted the quiver, then adhered the green mask firmly to Connor's face.

"You're the new Green Arrow, and this is your city now. This is what it means. Time to save the day."

"Right. Thanks."

Stanley clapped him on the shoulder again. "You'll do us all proud. Now, take the car. You'll need the extra protection, speed and firepower. Don't worry about driving it, the onboard computer will manage and for the trickier maneuvers it has remote capabilities. Set it for the bridge first. At this time of day it's bound to be loaded with civilians."

"Hate to interrupt but the signal for these things must be coming from somewhere in the city. No way they have the infrastructure to set up and launch something this complex from New York alone. So while you do that, I'll work on finding whoever's in charge so you can shut them down, maybe seeing if I can hack the bugs. Time to really test what this new toy can do!"

"Again thanks, both of you. Right um...time to save the day!" he did his best to grin while he said it, trying to seem more confident than he felt.

With all that decided on Connor rushed toward the vehicle bay and the exit tunnels.

It was time to make Oliver proud.

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Hidden 5 yrs ago → 5 yrs ago Post by Lord Wraith

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Lord Wraith Actually Three Otters in a Trenchcoat

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Lord Wraith

Actually Three Otters in a Trenchcoat

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Bio

We will put to the pyre your precious law and order. We will show you how truly vulnerable your nation really is.

Location: University District - Founder’s Island, Gotham CityMass Panic Tie-In: Chaos in Gotham
Interaction(s): NonePreviously: A Spark of Madness

“Looks like chivalry’s not dead.”

Terry scoffed at Max’s comment as he opened the door to Bueno Nacho. Holding the portal ajar, Terry motioned for the girls to enter as Dana, Carrie and Max proceeded into the restaurant. Coming behind them, Terry scanned the room before pointing towards an open booth prompting the group to claim it as their own. Sliding onto the bench beside Dana, Terry wrapped an arm around her before planting a quick kiss on her forehead. Turning forward, Terry was greeted with mock looks of disgust from the pair of girls seated across the table.

“Really, PDA?” Carrie asked with a dry tone before Max piped in.

“That’s so tacky,” She scolded, “No one wants your heteronormative lifestyle shoved their throats,” She smirked, “Least of all if it starts involving tongue.”

“It was a peck on the c-” Terry protested before stopping as the other couple broke down laughing. 

“We’re busting your balls, McGinnis.” Max said, flashing a disarming smile.

“Though,” Carrie interjected, “Gotta admit, you’re pretty cute when you’re flustered.” She added with a wink. Terry felt Dana straighten up in her seat beside him the moment Carrie finished speaking. Wrapping an arm around the dark-haired girl, Terry gave her a light squeeze before feeling her body relax. 

“You think he’s cute flustered, you should see him worked up.” Dana stated to the other girls. Turning to each other, Max and Carrie, both shrugged leaving Terry only able to shake his head while rubbing his flushed cheeks against the back of his free hand.

“So anybody hungry?” Terry muttered, his change of subject prompting several giggles from the three girls.

“I could eat.” Max volunteered while holding up a menu.

“What’s a ‘naco’?” Carrie asked, glancing down at her own menu. She was met with a pair of exasperated sighs before looking up to see Terry proudly smiling at her from across the table.     

“I practically invented the Naco.” Terry boasted to Carrie while both Dana and Max rolled their eyes.

“Everytime-”
“Terry, you did not-”

“No, Carrie, I really did.” Terry stated while talking over the other two. “I was starving after a long night, and I couldn’t eat fast enough. So I put my nachos in my soft taco, and the rest is history.”

“Terry, until you get a royalty check there’s no way anyone is going to believ-”

Suddenly the door to Bueno Nacho was kicked open with a resounding slam. The glass of the vestibule shook with the force of the impact as the man entered the establishment. A pair of visor like sunglasses covered his eyes while his tongue flicked out hungrily, tracing the pair of studs piercing his lower lip. Continuing his assault of the restaurant, the gang banger kicked over the closest set of table and chairs. Raising his hands above his head, he let out a triumphant roar. 

“Time of man is at an end!” He screamed. “Gotham belongs to the Mutants now!”

“Not these dregs,” Terry cursed beneath his breath before standing up from the table. Outside, several more of the Mutants gang were tearing up the streets. The frenzied men and women were jumping atop cars and hammering on every storefront they passed. Something had thrown them into a riot.

“What the hell is going on?”

“Uh, Terry?” Max called, holding her phone up for Terry. Looking down at the device, his eyes widened at the videos from New York and Star City. The same words the Mutant had used upon storming the restaurant were repeated in the broadcast as Terry turned around to face him.

“Looks like someone’s jumping on the bandwagon.”
PlaceholderNext Issue: Meta Brawl!

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Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by Ceta de Cloyes

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Ceta de Cloyes Roziphontes

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Ceta de Cloyes

Roziphontes

552 posts

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T H E  T E E N  L E G I O N

V A L O R  -  |  -  |  -  K I D   Q  -  |  -  |  -  C A M O  -  |  -  |  -  T   W O L F

Mon-El uDaksam   -   |   -   |   -   Jazmin Cullen   -   |   -   |   -   Reep Daggle   -   |   -   |   -   Brin Londo

Location: Jump City - Time of Crisis ICrisis #1.01: Vergō
Interaction(s): Upcoming with Star City Crisis TeamPreviously: Familiar #1

"Matthews!" A stern voice called, causing Mon-El's head to snap up. He debated making a run for it for a solid ten seconds before sighing, resigned to his fate and hopping up from his desk. He hurried past his coworkers' desks and slipped awkwardly between a pair of broad-shouldered officers idling in his way. He appeared in the doorway of the Captain's office, halting before he could crash into the petite demon of a woman. "Shut that behind you." She commanded, stepping back to allow him fully into her office.

"Er, you need something Captain?" He asked, avoiding her gaze. Captain Siobhan Erin was a force of nature, highly intelligent and, despite her short stature, very intimidating.

Her eyes were narrowed as she sized him up, crossing her arms and taking his measure. Apparently she found him lacking. "I've got my eyes on you, Detective. I don't know what your deal is, but you need it sorted out." She informed him coldly, uncrossing her arms and strutting across the room back to her seat behind her desk. Mon-El wondered if he should sit across from her, but decided against it, maintaining his gaze slightly above her eyes.

Reep's hacking was solid, but there were holes and oddly phrased terminology that made his profile... weird. That, combined with his awkward avoidance of anything to do with his past or the parts of his file that were just heavily redacted and censored blank spaces, while giving him an alibi, also cast him in a suspicious out-of-place mold. The Captain hadn't mentioned his unusual profile to anyone else, and beyond a few curious glances and intense background checking waylaid by Reep, she hadn't acted on it either, but apparently some new factor had made her nervous enough to call him out on it.

"I've received an order from Internal Affairs." She prefaced, watching for his reaction. Mon-El did his best not to give anything away, but honestly that was a pretty worrying statement and he couldn't help his frown. Could Reep's computer skills have been less effective than he'd believed? "Apparently, you, Detective Matthews, are to report to Star City to aid local law enforcement with the developing situation. Would you like to explain to me why exactly Internal Affairs is drafting my newest hire to deal with whatever the hell is brewing up there?"

Well... no. "Uh, no Ma'am?" So eloquent, that wasn't suspicious at all.

She stared him down, eyes daring him to slip up. Finally she acquiesced, "An aerocopter has been cleared to transport you, bring it back in one piece. Now, Detective, get out of my office."

Thoroughly confused about what the hell an aerocopter was and deeply concerned about the very likely possibility it would not be coming back in one piece, Mon-El agreed quickly rather than stay any longer under her gaze. "Will do Ma'am." Finally making his escape, Mon-El could only wonder what the hell that was all about.

"Not to worry Mon-El, I am fully capable of piloting any and all aerial vehicles designed on this planet." What.

"Uh Worm? We need to work on your communication skills." Mon-El scolded in a hushed voice, waiting until he was out of the precinct to acknowledge the AI's words. "Seriously, how can you go a whole week without a word and then spring something like this on me?!" Whatever 'this' was.

Worm seemed to debate on an answer for a moment before responding; "Apologies my prince, I assumed you would desire to step up in the face of this threat. Shall I rescind the fake Internal Affairs order and return the aerocopter to the depot?"

"Ah sprock, I knew that wasn't normal!" He cursed, thinking about the broadcast that had went out only an hour or so before. The officers at the precinct had reacted very strongly, but Mon-El still wasn't sure what was normal for Earth, and metaracial unrest was expected given the history of any planet that faced similarly unusual evolutionary divergences. "Ugh," he groaned, "I guess we're doing this. Okay then. Worm, send a message to the legionnaires, let them know I want them to meet me at this aerocopter, and they need to bring their suits." They were not ready to pick a fight on this scale, they had no experience to draw on at all- and Lazon only barely counted!

"Right away Mon-El."

”Oh my god, yes!” Q’s excited crow of joy was the first and only indicator Mon-El needed to know the team had arrived. The aerocopter was an uninteresting vehicle, unusual only in that it was such a peculiar design in relation to other earth-designed vehicles. It’s use of rotary blades and odd insectoid shape were just… strange, but ultimately the tech was nothing exciting, nor was the vehicle exceptionally fast or anything, just black and white. Bit like a dragon actually.

He wondered if they played garata on this planet.

”We really are going to Star then?!” Q demanded exuberantly, but the question was obviously rhetorical. Why else would they need transportation like this for the whole team? ”Sweet! Let’s deck this poser’s face in!” Whatever that string of nonsense meant.

And then Mon-El got his first look at the boys in their suits. Holy Rao above, and all the Sorrows Below, nothing was ever going to top this moment. The look of pure embarrassment and mutinous discomfort on their faces was perfect.

Q had her life on Earth, going to school and home and just walking out on the street. She was always dressed her best, with her hair curled and a blend of cosmetics from her face to her nails. Reep was a shut in, he stayed at Amnesia all day everyday, with few exceptions, and despite his shapeshifting it showed; all of his clothes were old and worn, and he consistently smelled of smoke from the many small electrical fires he caused. Brin was much, much worse. The faintly reddish hue to his brown skin stood out in direct light, and he preferred to avoid humans when he could, and when combined with his more wildly adventurous tendencies he was the king of messy hair and minimal hygiene.

Today Reep had shed his human skin for his more alien visage; reclaiming his orange skin and pointed ears, topped with two antenna and not a hair on his head. His lithe figure was strategically covered by the uniform rather than being a complete outfit like Mon-El’s or Q’s, with his hands and forearms bare, as well as his feet and shins, and a horizontal oval gaping open on his upper back. The design was obviously meant to allow him to shapeshift his various limbs, and the loose cut, rather than being skin tight and thus out of the way, was optimal for increasing his size or growing organic armor without destroying the suit’s shape or function. For obvious reasons, Reep decided to go without the obfuscating headpiece.

Forced into the light of day and for once freshly showered and groomed, Brin was practically a different person. His hair was washed and combed, hanging down to his shoulders in a soft wave, and his usual cheap jeans and too-large shirts were traded in for the space patterned tights of their uniform. The sleeves had been removed for reasons that were as yet unclear, but showed off his thick biceps to complement his broad chest. A product of those genetic experiments no doubt.

Mon-El’s huge grin at the sight of them caused them both to blush and duck their heads in a bewildering display of synchronized flustering. ”You guys look great!” Reep was not one to consider his appearance beyond simply choosing a face to wear, and Brin acted like an old hunting dog, striding with focus and confidence, but in these uniforms neither could forget what they were wearing and think it didn’t matter. 

”Oh yes, this is going to be good.” Mon-El said, feeling eager about the upcoming mission for the first time. Q shot him a beaming smile and the boys seemed to remember themselves, puffing up and standing taller with little cheery twinkles in their eyes.

For all that they matched each other and stuck with the same theme, they were each different and so very eye catching. They’d have to consider what to do about that, they needed more stealth if they wanted to pull off this hero thing effectively.

First though, they had to get to work.

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Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by Bork Lazer

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Bork Lazer Chomping Time

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♦  Topic:[BREAKING NEWS][LIVE UPDATES] National Crisis - Terrorist Attack By Metahuman Supremacy Front

In:  Boards ► General Affairs ► General News 

Chickensapien
Posted on July 15th, 2019 

Quoted from NYPD Live Scanner

Confirmed report of terrorist attack in Central Park. All television networks have been shut down in light of hijacking by terrorist organisation identified as the Metahuman Supremacy Front. All citizens are advised to stay indoors and keep away from Central Park. NYPD officers are on route.

UPDATE 1: Reports of unprovoked assaults have been confirmed to be linked to the attack at Central Park. NYC police are forming a 30 block perimeter around the source of this mysterious disease. All citizens are recommended to stay indoors and away from affected individuals.  

UPDATE 2: Star City officials confirm that the unknown disease has spread towards its own population. It is unknown whether President Ellis will be issuing an official state of emergency.

dude, what the fuck, what the fuck, did all of you see that shit on TV? some of my folks are living in Central park. wake me up from this dream. 

►NurseNova
Replied on July 15th 2019, 13:25:45

Man, that's the most gayest costume a super-villain could wear. 

►Ram Mette
Replied on July 15th 2019, 13:30:45

Motherfucking muties. I told you all this would happen but nooooooo, Ram was just being one of those 'stupid' right-wingers. Can't wait to watch all you mutie-humpers die.

WARNING: Flaming and provocative statements will not help the situation. 100 infraction points for you. 

►Emerald Ghoul
Replied on July 15th 2019, 13:35:45

Shame. I've always wanted to go to New York this time of the year. Wonder if Spider Man's gonna intervene? 

►NurseNova
Replied on July 15th 2019, 13:36:45

Are you kidding? That black suited creep? Didn't you read that Daily Bugle article about him last week? You've got more chance hoping Wonder Woman gonna help if she ain't stuck up in Washington right now. 

►The Sewer Butler
Replied on July 15th 2019, 13:37:20

Dammit, Central Park's only a few blocks away from here. I'm scramming with the wife and kids right now to Dakota to my cousin's place until it's safe. Don't want to be caught in this mess here. 

►ShieldSpangledStar
Replied on July 15th 2019, 13:40:21

real tragedy was that art installation. thought it looked good when I walked past central park a few days ago. 

STATIC: SPECIAL CROSSOVER ISSUE

EVENT: ABSOLUTE CRISIS

Richie had issues with his weekend vacation in New York City. 

It wasn’t the news that the New York Mega-Con had been cancelled by the organisers just this morning. It also wasn’t the fact that he was somewhat feeling guilty about whether or not he’d doomed Dakota City by forcing Virgil to take a break. Nor was it that he hadn’t managed to eat lunch yet. 

No, these were the type of issues equipped with glazed eyes and mouths frothing with rage. Issues that were currently chasing after him down the eclectic concrete jungle that was New York City. Richie panted and huffed, his adolescent junk-food conditioned body struggling to escape from the violence occurring around him. There were currently a good twenty or so men and women, snapping at his heels. He heard the crashing of glass shattering against the ground from an apartment to his right, flailing bodies falling through the air and meeting the ground in a bone-crushing crack. That wasn't what frightened him. What frightened him was the fact that some of them had starting getting back up, pulling themselves forth on their elbows, their heads, whatever limbs or appendages they still had towards him. 

The last minutes or so were a matter of survival. New York had descended into a total bloodbath along with Star City. Unfortunately, luck had it that he was seeing the masked spiked maniac talk from a cafe TV screen in New York rather than in Dakota. It seemed like the end of the world for Richie right now. He took out the phone from his pocket and dialed Virgil's number for yet the 5th time in a row. He narrowly dodged a stumbling police officer who was waving his baton in a frenzy, making sure not to drop the phone on the ground as he continued to run through the rioting streets of Lower Manhattan. 

“ Virgil! I could really use some help not trying to get eaten alive right now!” 

“ Sorry - just - “ There was a loud grunt on the other side of the phone followed by the screeching sound of bending metal. “ - I’m a little held up here right now.” There was a pause before Richie heard Virgil’s voice again. “ Just stay put wherever you are!" 

“ Stay put?! I'm running as we speak right now!" Richie shouted. 

" Just wait. I'll get a bead on you as long as you keep me on call - "

In the middle of his conversation, someone slammed into Richie like a runaway freight train. His phone was knocked out of his hand, Virgil's panicked voice silenced by the heel of a boot. A young girl with an empty, oozing left eye-socket began to claw at him wildly without restraint. Richie rammed his knee weakly into her gut several times but she just shrugged it off, saliva from her open, gnashing, screaming mouth dropping on his forehead. Eventually, one of her hands found his way on his throat and clamped down, Richie weakly trying to wrestle free from her. 

A loud bellow of thunder deafened his ears. A loop of chain-link fencing wrapped around the girl's neck and pulled her off top of him. The pressure on Richie's lung relaxed, causing him to cough unsteadily as he looked up. 

The entire city seemed to have become alive. Streetlights guarding the sidewalk began to reach down like tendrils, grasping and curling around the torsoes of the writhing infected. A volley of trash-cans, suspended upwards like ragdolls, smash into the side of the group, bowling them over onto the ground. The chain link fencing begins to unweave apart into single strands, binding and turning the snarling and rabid infected into beached fish. Within moments, the population of the entire street had been restrained. 

“ So much for New York hospitality.” Virgil landed with a clang on the asphalt, the steel meter wide manhole glowing slightly at the rim. He took off his white hood, dreadlocks swaying with each shake of his head. His left cheek was slightly bruised, swelling already. Richie’s question of Virgil’s tardiness was answered as he lifted up a paper bag of pretzels. Virgil popped one of them in his mouth as he pointed towards Richie. 

" You still got my bag, Rich?" 

Richie signs, nodding slowly. He wants to say that he's forgotten it, dropped it by some chance to keep Virgil out of harm's way. If there's one thing that he's learnt ever since he found out about Virgil's secret identity, danger and Virgil are attracted to each other like magnetic poles. He tosses over Virgil’s rucksack towards his outstretched hand. He caught it deftly and opened the zip, pulling out his jacket. The yellow bolt of lightning running across the front vest lights up like a beacon. 

" Just for ruining my trip to New York, I'm gonna turn that Stryfe guy's helmet into an lawn ornament."

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Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by Xandrya

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Earlier that morning, Rachel had attempted to sneak out of John's apartment, being as quiet as a burglar tiptoeing through their victim's home. The disappointment was evident on her face. Regardless of the type of relationship she had, Rachel somehow couldn't make it work. In the past, she had lost numerous friends, romantic partners, etc. Needless to say, her own flesh and blood were nothing short of vile savages. The only exception was her mother, who had been laid to rest not too long. But to give the man some credit, the situation was a little different with him. He had been perfectly clear regarding his expectations for a "no strings attached" type of night. In turn, Rachel had agreed, despite the small voice in the back of her head telling her to walk away.

"Leaving already?" The voice from down the hall made her stop and take a few steps back. John was walking toward her with only a towel wrapped around his waist.

"Yes. We had a fun night but I'm sure you have other things to do now."

"You're right, I have things to do...like cooking breakfast for you. Come on, sit down and stay another half hour, I promise I can cook."

Rachel couldn't help but laugh a little. "Okay, fine, but do you want my help? I can make some killer toast and my eggs are to die for." She put her stuff down by the front door before following John into the kitchen.

"Well, you're offering so why not?"

-----

Some time later, Rachel found herself engaged in her typical routine. She worked through her list of errands and chores before settling down on the loveseat with her legs up on the armrest and her cell phone in hand. She was reading an article when she received a few incoming text messages as well as alerts. Unable to ignore them, Rachel stopped reading to see what was going on. At first she thought the news was some sort of prank, but the same thing was being reported across multiple platforms. She sat up straight, looking at the various sources before eventually turning on the TV as well. If nothing else, it appeared that the New York City population had collectively lost its mind.

With knowledge of the alarming news, Rachel headed over to the window. She looked out for a moment before sinking to the floor, her back to the outside as she settled into a meditative pose. Closing her eyes, Rachel projected her Soul-Self to manifest and take shape above her, the sudden feeling of weightlessness prompting her to open her eyes once more. At that point Rachel had eyes and ears outside of her physical body, and the raven-shaped spirit hovered behind her momentarily before taking off at increasing speeds towards Central Park. Her mission at the moment was simply assessing the damage up close, and once she got to see for herself what was going on, she would determine her next move.

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Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by Supermaxx

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SEASON ONE: GODS AMONG MENINFAMY #1: TRUST
Xavier's Mansion ♦ New York City, New YorkTheme: Human

Everyone had gathered in Hank's laboratory for the 'surprise' he'd been working on for the past few weeks. Even Bobby, cursed with eternal stupidity, knew why McCoy had so eagerly rushed them all into into his private workshop. Visitors were a rare thing there- not for lack of trying, of course, because Hank could talk anyone's ear off about his latest work. No, it had more to do with the fact that moving through the crowded, dirty room was near impossible. One couldn't take scarcely more than three steps without accidentally bumping into some fragile piece of equipment, knocking over piles of literature or stepping on a technical sketch for one revolutionary gadget or another.

"Uh, sorry- I should've cleaned up before I grabbed you all." Hank apologized profusely as he shoved a desk to the side and collected scattered files and papers with his simian-like toes in the same, fluid movement. There was something oddly natural about the way he would grab onto a robotic arm hanging from the ceiling and swing over to a clearing in the mess, gathering up a bunch of seemingly unrelated materials and placing them in a pile out of the way, effectively just moving the mess rather than actually fixing anything.

"How do you get anything done in this wreck?" Jean asked, turning her nose upward at the trainwreck of a laboratory. "I thought scientists were supposed to be, like, organized and shit."

Kurt appeared in a puff of smoke, his three-toed feet wrapping around a ceiling light before he had a chance to plummet into the garbage pile below. "Nonono," the blue haired demon shook his head, "He has a system, see, like in ze movies!"

"No system." Hank corrected with an embarrassed chuckle. "Just...Just a big mess."

"I'll ask again, then-" Jean sighed, "How do you find anything?!"

McCoy motioned to his nose. "I can, uh, smell...things. I know how long it's been since I touched that-" he pointed toward a paper near Jean's foot. "-And I hear things, too. Like something's loose in that centrifuge over there. Rotor, maybe? Hm."

"We understand perfectly, Hank." Charles Xavier called from the door, still waiting for his ever-faithful student finish clearing a path so he could actually enter. He was as patient as ever, his hands resting in his lap as he watched the team interact with a bemused smile. "There is...beauty, in the chaos of brilliance."

Grey shrugged and crossed her arms. "Something something 'eye of the beholder,' I guess. He needs a maid. Or those bags from the 'too much stuff, not enough space' commercial."

It didn't take too much longer for them to get the laboratory into half-decent condition, especially once Scott convinced everyone else to pitch in and help Hank move everything out of the way. He led the six of them over toward a large machine in the back of the room. It's exterior didn't match the rest of the equipment: the sterile white and blacks of other apparatuses clashed with the strange machine's shining chrome body. It's center was dominated by a reinforced glass viewing port, though whatever was inside was hidden behind a piece of canvas had thrown over it. He stepped past it and over to a screen and keypad projected on the front of the machine.

"So what's this gizmo, doc?" Bobby asked, his hand clutching at his chin like he was the second coming of The Thinker.

"It's a type of CAD Fabricator," McCoy explained, struggling to tap in a code with his sausage-sized fingers. "Essentially you insert a design into a computer, provide the necessary materials and the machine will make it for you."

"Like zose 3D printers they have in zose Youtube videos!" Kurt interjected. "Awesome."

"Where'd you even get this thing?" Jean rapped her knuckles against the side. "Must'a cost a fortune."

McCoy continued the finishing touches on his project, adjusting several metrics on the control panel as he spoke to the X-Men behind him. "It was donated to us, actually. By a, uh, friend of the Professor's."

Charles leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees as he glanced over toward the prodigiously genius Metahuman. "Indeed," he confirmed, looking back to the others. "He's asked that I keep his name to myself, but some years ago he came to me in a time of need. I knew from the moment I met him that he was brilliant. Absolutely brilliant- but his status as a Metahuman had forced him from his home. A mind like his was being wasted because he had a single gene that made him different."

A brief look passed over Xavier, something between disgust and a tired sort of pity. "I gave him a place to stay and introduced him to my peers at Columbia, and it wasn't long until he was attending, free of charge- even the most bigoted among my colleagues could not deny his genius."

"Now he runs a company all his own!" McCoy spun around, arms resting on his hips with triumphant confidence. "Place called Forge that makes armor and weapons for the military and SHIELD. All of it's cutting edge, top-of-the-line stuff. The Professor offered to pay for this but the guy insisted- he said it was the least that he could do to repay Charles."

"And that he believes in what you're all doing." Xavier finished with a nod, a seriousness in his eyes as he met the gazes of each of his young students. "I assured him that his trust was not misplaced."

A momentary silence followed, heavy as a ton of bricks and thick as fog. Gazes were averted and awkward shuffling filled the gap. They'd gotten plenty of talks from the Professor about responsibility and the consequences of their actions, especially after the mess that was Bayville. It was easy to brush off Scott's blustering, but...

"...So what'd you make with this, Hank?" Summers was the first to break the silence, his hands shoved deep into his pockets as he turned his attention back to their resident mad scientist.

McCoy blinked a few times, as if he'd gone somewhere else in the brief time between when he last spoke and when Scott asked him about the surprise he'd been toiling over since Forge delivered the fabricator. "right! Right." He nodded emphatically, turning around to grab a piece of paper from a nearby workbench. "I, uh, I sent in a preliminary draft with some specifications-"

It didn't take more than a second of him waving it around at a distance for Kurt to appear in front of him in a burst of black smoke, snatching it from McCoy so he could present the picture to everyone else.

"-Kurt, you little-" 

McCoy's attempts to protest were all for naught, as everyone else had already gathered around their hairy blue friend to observe the very rough draft that Hank had sent in to their contact at Forge. 

Their chorus of immature giggling by stopped only when Charles cleared his throat, pointedly nodding his head toward Hank. "Continue, please."

"Right." Hank rubbed his hands together, taking a few, slow steps toward the piece of canvas he'd laid over the observation port. "It took approximately a day for each of them to finish, so five in total, obviously, but they came out much better than I could have expected. Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you the newest iteration of the X-Men unifor-"

Just before he could pull it aside and make the big reveal, a loud, distinctive chirp filled the room. All eyes shifted over to Scott.

"I'm sure it can wait a minute-" He tried to assure them, only for his phone to go off again.

And again.

And again.

The notifications came in like a flood, hitting his phone so fast that not even half of them got their audio cue off before the next one appeared. Summers felt his jaw lock and his arms go stiff.

"That's Sentinel, right?" Jean asked, her face awash with concern as she looked to Scott.

"Vhat is happening?"

"Somethin' goin' down?"

"It's probably just a bug." Hank assured them all. "Anyway, here's-"

The wave of notification sounds was suddenly cut off when Summers got a phone call, replaced by the smooth sounds of an acoustic guitar. That was enough to prompt Scott to reach into his pocket and produce the device, setting it to his ear. "Who's this?"

“Hey, Eye-guy? I don’t wanna be that friend that only calls when he needs help or whatever, but, uh, well, you might wanna turn on a TV.”

"...I'll call you back." Summers replied, his throat as dry as a desert as he ended the call and started directing everyone toward the TV.

It was a strange thing to find the mood shifting so quickly. To go from celebrating their friend's latest achievement to gathering around a television set to see history repeating itself.

Hank couldn't stop asking questions. He wanted to talk to whoever had called Scott, insisting it might've been a prank or something. Must've been, even.

Bobby was as quiet as a mouse, and his hands were shaking slightly, even before they'd managed to turn the thing on. Charles had moved over to place a hand on his pupil's shoulder. He didn't say anything to Drake- not that there were words that could comfort in a situation like this one.

Jean still hovered in the back of the lab near the fabricator, too occupied calling up everyone she knew that lived in the city proper to make sure that they were okay.

Nightcrawler was the one that had rushed to find the remote among the mess that was McCoy's lab. Everyone else had ushered over toward the old television set that Hank kept in the corner of his lab. It was meant, primarily, to give him background noise as he worked. But now it bore the visage of a mutant terrorist that threatened the safety of everyone in their city and beyond.

It was a face Scott was making himself deeply familiar with, even as the broadcast switched away from Stryfe to show the chaos his monsters were sewing in the streets of NYC and Star.

When the carnage began, and people on the screen began to die, Scott yanked the remote from Kurt's iron-like grip and turned it off. He stood from where he'd previously sat and made his way in front of the group, looking out over the sea of faces that called themselves the X-Men. 

They'd only been together for a little over a year at this point. Some of them had known each other for longer than that, but not as teammates. In that time they had faced many a threat: Purifiers, mutant criminals and even the occasional gangster. But this was new. This was an enemy with real power- an enemy that flirted with a perverse kind of evil that the world rarely ever saw.

Summers sighed and began in a slow, pained voice. "I know we've been together for awhile. All of us knew what this job was going to entail, and we knew it was going to be dangerous. But this...I can't ask any of you to-"

Jean interrupted before he got the chance to even finish his statement. "Scott? Shut up."

"Zis is vhy we're here."

"They need us." Hank agreed.

All eyes shifted over to Bobby, who looked like he was about ready to throw up. He only nodded and stood from his chair.

Despite the dire circumstances at hand, Charles couldn't help the pride he felt welling up in his heart, the corners of his lips shooting upward just as the rest of the team went to stand alongside Bobby.

"Guess it's settled, then." Summers nodded. "X-Men, suit up."

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Hidden 5 yrs ago → 5 yrs ago Post by Hexaflexagon

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Jailbreak In Fairyland V

The Royal Palace, Bathhouse, Faerie
Their previous escort had left two guards posted at the door. Each roughly stood at least a head and a half taller than Zatanna, dressed in knightly metallic armor tinged with green as a moss-like substance grew in the cracks of the armor, their insectoid-like wings reminiscent of a dragonfly's tucked tightly against their backs. Their purpose, either to keep them safe or prevent them from wandering Zatanna couldn't have guessed, but they served their uses well enough to the dark-haired young woman. Amicable enough to the prospect of conversation they listened to Zatanna as they leaned on their long elegant polearm their tip covered large jagged protrusions of glass. Between the two of them, they were able to aid Zatanna in her plight directing the magician towards a bathhouse located on the lower levels of the palace's guest wing.

Giving them her thanks Zatanna took a left down the hallway stopping at the third door before the end. The wooden door opened to reveal a long spiral stone staircase descends downward, the pathway lined by floating globules of light that changed color from a bright pink to a deep purple as Zatanna passed by them. Following the directions given to her, Zatanna followed this colorful display of light down passing by various landings similar to the one she entered the stairwell from. As she continued her descent, the magician couldn't help but notice the decrease in temperature around her, splashes of gooseflesh appearing across her skin as her breath became visible on the air. Pulling her arms closer against her body to try and ward off the cold, Zatanna soon arrived at the bottom of the staircase. 

Reaching for a handle encrusted in frost she pushed open a wooden door and entered another hallway. Particles of ice hung suspended in the air creating a breathtaking effect as spheres of light similar to those in the hallway were reflected through them like a kaleidoscope. On either side of her were long windows that looked down onto a large workshop. Workers rushed about large vats filled with strange frothing liquid hauling containers of the strange substance to the craftsman busy sculpting the strange glass covered armaments that the guards around the palace and the city seemed to carry. Though the surrounding environment lead Zatanna to suspect that it wasn’t glass at all, but rather a kind of magically enchanted ice made resistance to melting. The bridge-hallway fusion that the young magician stood upon lead towards the center of the workshop where a large furnace continued to belch flames that the works thrust containers of the liquid into which seemed to cause the frothing liquid to stabilize. Above the furnace was a large egg-like structure that a pair of double doors at the end of the hallway lead into. Zatanna could only assume that was the titular bathhouse using the residual heat from the blasting of the furnaces to its own ends. 

The thought of warmer climes spurred Zatanna onward as she picked up speed. As she reached the pair of doors they opened on their own volition scraping across the ice-covered stone of the hallway as they went. Immediately upon crossing the door’s threshold, Zatanna was hit with a burst of warm air, her extremities beginning to break out in pinpricks as blood began to rush back. A thick cloud of steam hung in the airlifting upward from a series of large pools that were dispersed across the room. Each pool was closed off from one another by an array of decorative paper walls inscribed with floral designs. A podium carved from a singular protrusion of stone jutting upward from the ground greeted Zatanna but there was no one manning it. Zatanna looked around experimentally for someone that looked like they knew where they belonged but couldn’t find any and so with a shrug she went deeper into the bathhouse.

The stonework of the podium served as an aesthetic prelude for the rest of the chamber that opened up into a cavernous space carved out of stone. The smooth stonework of the hallway and the rest of the castle faded into impure darken stone that rose and fell, made up of interspersed sections of smooth stone worn down by countless footsteps and rough cracked surfaces. Zatanna carefully made her way across the stone paths slick with water from the pools that they navigated around. The pools themselves were sparsely populated, a handful of patrons who mostly clustered towards the pools nearer to the bathhouse’s entrance. They paid little mind to Zatanna talking quietly amongst themselves as they enjoyed the water.

Not particularly in the mood for company, Zatanna made her way towards one of the pools towards the rear of the cave. Small and approximately the shape of a lopsided crescent, the pool was tucked away into the back left-hand corner. Stepping behind a privacy screen constructed out of the same floral paper walls, Zatanna began to undress. At first, getting in and out of her stage uniform had been something of a hassle which was made only worse by the fact that she was the one who designed it in the first place. Yet in the four years since then and an innumerable number of fast changes later, the outfit had become more or less a second skin for her and she was able to efficiently and quickly undo the many straps and hooks that held it all together. Gingerly like one would take care of a child, she grouped the clothes together in a small pile and left them on the driest area of rock that she could find. 

Tentatively she dipped a toe into the water testing the temperature, Zatanna was aware of how human bathhouses worked in regards to efforts to prevent their inhabitants from boiling alive, but there was no way she could be sure that such establishments in Faerie work along with similar guidelines. Much to her relief though while the water was warmer than she was used to it was not excessively so. The young magician eased herself into the pool of water making sure to keep her head above the water. Sinking downward so that everything above her neck was submerged Zatanna let out a long sigh of relief as muscles that she didn’t even know she had began to loosen from the heat. Closing her eyes she leaned back against the perimeter of the pool resting her arms upon the stone,

She honestly couldn’t remember the last time she was able to properly relax. Between her show’s west coast tour, her father’s death and then everything that came after it had to be at least months. The sense of relief that she was feeling came with its own share of guilt. Zatanna had everything that anyone could have wanted, her name plastered in lights on marquees across the country and yet all she wanted to be was normal. She saw what famous meant, it meant having a father that barely existed, it meant a trapped existence defined by the high walls of your estate, it meant never feeling like you had a family. If Zatanna wanted to she could have lived the life of any rich Gotham socialite, but she had no desire to be the next Bruce Wayne. But no matter how she tried to desperately avoid it fame had managed to entrap her.

Deep in her own contemplation, the magician did not hear footsteps approaching her until a voice asked in an easy southern drawl 

“You mind if I join you?”

Causing Zatanna to nearly leap into the air.

Crouching at the edge of the pool was a young woman roughly Zatanna’s age her blue eyes looking down at her inquisitively, a smile across her face as she nestled a hand along the shaved stubble along the back of her head, her sides shaved in an undercut, an uncontrolled puff of white hair cresting her head like a cloud. Her whole appearance screamed more punk rock show in Brooklyn than a royal palace in a parallel dimension: a worn-in pair of converses, black skinny jeans with a rip over the left knee, and a shrunken white crop top with a stylized black raven across the chest, the crop top in turn revealing the pale white skin of her stomach the definition in her abs clearly visible. Zatanna felt a blush coming to her face as her gaze rested on the exposed skin for perhaps a second or two too long. 

“Sure?” Zatanna responded after a minute or so delay still caught off guard.

“Thanks” The other woman responded offhandedly before she began to strip.

Zatanna wasn't a prude, a quarter's lifetime of working in show business expunged any faux-pas or taboo that may have existed over nudity, but the blatant disregard that the other woman showed still managed to surprise her. Letting out a sound that generously resembled a squeak, Zatanna quickly spun around facing away from the stranger directing her gaze downward as a discarded bra landed in her periphery. This small display earned an amused laugh from the other woman. 

"Aww," She teased "there was much more to stare at then just my abs." 

Her comment was followed by a splash as she entered the pool.

Zatanna tentatively turned around just in time to see the stranger burst upward from beneath the water in total disregard to the potential bacteria that could find a home in the warm liquid. She stretched her arms out wide taking in all the warmth that she could manage, a large smile across her face as her eyes closed in bliss.

“My name is Tefé by the way.” 

“I’m Zatanna”

“Oh,” the other girl laughed again “I know who you are”

“You know who I am?”

“Z’, it's your first day here and you've already managed to have an audience with the Queenie herself. Everyone knows who you are.”

“Is that why you wanted to join me?” 

“Well, I ain't a liar so I’m not going to say I’m not curious” Tefé admitted “and you being cute only helps in that regard.” 

“Cute?” Zatanna asked flustered before quickly moving on “I mean, curious what about?”

“Well, the rumor is that you are looking to free the Kingkiller.”

“The Kingkiller...” Zatanna sighed “the way all of you keep on talking about them I can only assume he’s some kind of boogeyman or the Second Coming, maybe both.”

“Wait?” Tefé asked with a cocked brow “Are you telling me you don’t know who the Kingkiller is? Have you been living under a rock or something?” 

“Might as well of been considering the number of surprises I’ve had this week.” 

“Somebody sounds a little angsty. Well, maybe I can help clear up that angst a little bit. 

Once upon a time, all of Faerie was ruled by a cruel king by the name of Oberon. A warrior born and bred he ruled his kingdom like a general would an army demanding complete obedience and respect. But the Fae valued freedom above all else and so conflict between Oberon’s loyalists and those who stood against his rule. And so civil strife as nature tends to will it became civil conflict and soon all of Faerie was plunged into war. A war that would only end once the hired assassin known as the Kingkiller’s cold iron plunged its way into Oberon’s heart.”

“But who would have hired them?”

“Someone is asking the right questions! I had a good feeling that you were going to be a clever one” Tefé proclaimed. 

“The most common belief was that it was Titania herself. The Queenie at the time was a neutral party choosing not to align herself with either faction in the squabble, and because of that, she was in a fine position to become a “neutral” party to rule after everything settled back down. So I don’t know about you Z’, but that might just cause a girl to hasten up the process.”

“And then she had him arrested to cover up her tracks!” Zatanna declared 

“Elementary, my dear Watson.” Tefé concurred with a grin before leaning in closer to Zatanna “But that still leaves little old me with some questions, particularly what a pretty girl like you needs with a big bad assassin like him.”

“Well...” Zatanna said as she slipped out from around Tefé causing her to have her back against the wall “as you mentioned this Kingkiller is particularly proficient at the whole killing business and my companion and I, need help killing a very particular kind of monster.’

“Ah yes,” Tefé commented “the venerable Doctor Voodoo... so are the two of you an item? Not that I’m judging, he just seems to be a bit of a bore.”

“Ugh of course not!” Zatanna protested shaking her head and in her distraction, Tefé was able to switch their positions around again leaving Zatanna up against the pool’s wall “he’s a family friend and totally not my type.”

“Oh, you have a type?” Tefé prodded curiously 

“Of course I do,” Zatanna explained with a wink “Not that I would tell some random stranger I just met though” 

“Hmmm, that’s fair.” Tefé admitted with a shrug “Maybe you would be willing to divulge if I helped you?”

“Help with what exactly?”

“The Queenie isn’t going to let you have the Kingkiller,” Tefé explained like it was obvious

“Why? She said she would think about it! And Voodoo said she owed him a favor!”

All the flirtatious energy withdraw from Tefé as her face grew cold. “Because of the living shithole that calls himself Anton Arcane.”

A shiver went down Zatanna spine despite the warmth of the pool as she remembered Arcane’s ember eyes. “Arcane? I mean from what Voodoo has told me he sounds like a total creep but he has no control here right? He’s not the Queen?”

“He has what the Queen wants. The daughter of the late King Oberon and the Queenie’s former lover, the Girl-Traitor Queen Mab of the Court of Dawn is slowly rebuilding her father’s lost army to reclaim a throne that her lover took from her. The gristle of it is that Arcane is promising to create the Queenie an army to crush this rebellion before it can begin in exchange for her patronage, and that army will be constructed using the Kingkiller’s blood as its catalyst.”

“How do you know all of this?” Questioned Zatanna 

“Let’s just say that I’ve made it my mission to keep tabs on Arcane.”

Zatanna shook her head “This.. this isn’t good. We came here specifically for the Kingkiller! They are the only one that would be able to help us.”

“Hey don’t be giving up just yet Z’, maybe the two of us could help each other out?”

Zatanna looked up at Tefé smiling face “What do you mean?”

“Well,” Tefé explained swimming in closer so that their noses were mere inches from brushing against one another, as she looked Zatanna earnestly in the eyes. “I know where they are keeping him and I don’t particularly want Arcane securing such a powerful ally as the Queen. So while most of the staff is attending the needs of the court at dinner, the two of us can stage a little jailbreak in fairyland. What do you say?”

Zatanna didn't even need to think about it.

“I’m in.”

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Hidden 5 yrs ago → 5 yrs ago Post by Supermaxx

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Supermaxx dumbass

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SEASON ONE: GODS AMONG MENINFAMY #2: MIDDAY MAYHEM
Lower Manhattan ♦ New York City, New YorkTheme: Human

The X-Men might not have a private jet or a veritable tank to cart them around the city, but they did have a van. Hank had tricked out the cargo portion of the vehicle into a pseudo mobile command center, featuring everything from full communications suite to an HD monitor, computer and it's own dedicated WiFi hotspot. They'd even modified it by sliding armored plating into the van's frame, switching out the tires for something nearly indestructible and replacing the glass with a bulletproof variant. It was practically a fortress on wheels.

If it wasn't, they couldn't have plowed through their second police barricade on their way toward Central Park.

"Would you be careful?!" Bobby shouted, gripping the seat in front of him as the entire van lurched and sputtered after the sudden and violent impact. More than a few cops had to stumble and leap out of the way of the oncoming vehicle to avoid being crushed underneath it's monstrous tires.

Jean let out an exhilarated whoop, her foot only pressing down harder on the pedal. Scott had been forbade by the Professor from driving after he'd wrecked the convertible not so long ago, leaving the only other person on the team with a license behind the wheel. Under normal circumstances it might've been fine, but this-

None of this was normal.

"Vere all going to die." Kurt lamented, shrinking into as tight a ball as possible.

They'd planned on crossing the Lincoln tunnels to get over to Manhattan, but all of them were clogged up with people trying to get out. From what they heard from police chatter the bridges up north were having equal trouble, and the Holland tunnels were only sporadically guarded. It'd been easy enough to punch through; dodging through traffic and past terrified bystanders had been a little more nerve wracking.

Scott shot a glare over at Jean, though he kept his tongue, too busy trying to dial Spider-Man as they raced closer and closer to the center of the storm. "Come on, Pete, pick up." He muttered.

Not a tone later, it clicked, and the vigilante's voice sounded with a spurt of static. Something was disrupting the radio frequencies, but thankfully calls were still getting through.

"This is TGI Spidey's, may I take your order?"

"We're almost at Central Park. How're you holding up?"

"I'm -- Hey! We're not holding a kegger down here! -- Sorry, sorry. I'm near Murray Hill, seeing what's to see from the Empire State. There's a lot of party guests out here, I don't think I brought enough hng goodie bags for everyone."

Cyclops grimaced at the sound of Spidey's struggles. He'd only seen the chaos very briefly on the broadcast- he couldn't imagine the reality of it that Peter was currently faced with. It wouldn't be long before he got to see it for himself. "Alright, we'll swing down that way to help you out! Just hold on, we'll be there in fifteen, alright?"

"Meet you by Herald Square. Til' then I got a date with the tourist patrol."

Spider-Man ended the call and Summers slipped the phone into one of the storage pouches on his costume, glancing around at the rest of the team. Nobody was holding up too well, not that he could blame them. 

Kurt and Bobby both looked like they were on the verge of having a panic attack. 

Hank had dived as deep as he could into his work, those large, cumbersome headphones slipped over his head as he tried to pinpoint where exactly the swarm was at any given moment. He had multiple police scanners running and a digital map in front of him.

Jean was always good at hiding how she really felt- much to Scott's chagrin. She had a grin on her face that didn't extend to her eyes as she guided them through the streets. 

It looked like Manhattan had been turned into a war zone. They passed by dozens and dozens of fleeing people, both on foot and packed inside of cars of their own. Many of them were bloodied and limping, some carrying improvised weapons they'd been forced to use against their neighbors and fellow man. Summers felt sick just looking at it.

And angry.

Very angry.

"Eyes up, gang, we've got company!" Jean called out, her hands wrapping tighter around the steering wheel as they rounded the corner and came face to face with a violent brawl that stretched across the street.

There were around thirty of them from what Scott could see. Some of them were actively tearing into each other with anything they had available- glass, teeth, hands- anything they could use to hurt one another. Others were attempting to escape the mob, apparently having escaped the swarm when it came through here earlier, and still others lay unmoving not far from the brawl, either too wounded to move or...worse.

Nobody had to say anything. Jean brought the van to an abrupt halt, every seat belt clicking in near unison as the squad piled out of the van. Almost as soon as their boots touched the concrete all attention shifted toward them, their programming adjusting it's parameters to match the changing conditions and the arrival of priority Metahuman targets. The X-Men stacked up in front of their vehicle, shoulder to shoulder, their armored uniforms shining in the mid-morning sun. Bright yellow armor set over an eye-catching blue, their team's identity proudly displayed by the black X that dominated the breastplate. They cut an imposing figure, especially when compared to the glorified rags they used to run around in.

If only there was anyone sane enough to appreciate it around.

The horde charged them, bloodcurdling screams echoing between the devastated streets of Manhattan. Their former victims- those that could still move, anyway- used the opportunity of the infected turning their attention on the X-Men to flee the scene, leaving one less thing for the heroes to worry about.

"Try not to hurt them!" Scott shouted over the cacophony. "Restrain the ones you can and knock out the rest."

Jean opened up first, stepping forward with her gloved palms clutched together, only to throw them out to either side and send a wave of telekinetic energy crashing against the flood of flesh and blood. The first line of the mob was thrown backward into the second, causing a chaotic cascading effect that brought the charge to a grinding halt. The black and green varsity jacket she wore over her costume fluttered as it caught the backblast.

It was Bobby's turn to step up, the sleeveless variant of his uniform allowing him to easily form the ice over his arms and hands that he needed to follow-up on Marvel Girl's opener. He gave none of his usual attempts at banter as he splayed his fingers out and let a cone of frost pour out from him. It rapidly froze over the downed infected, encasing much of their bodies in ice and restraining all movement, leaving only their heads free so they could still breathe. 

"Nice work, guys-" Summers started, only for his mouth to be filled with the taste of another man's knuckles. The combined attacks had only stifled the rushing mob, not stopped it, and Scott carelessly let himself get caught off guard from the side. He was quick to grab the infected's other arm and throw it around his back, giving him a solid enough wallop aside the skull to knock him out cold. His old visor had made it so Scott could never use his powers on any people without risking their deaths, all but requiring that he learn how to fight if he wanted to be useful to the team. Hank insisted the visor's new settings would allow for more restrained, precise fire, but...

"Zhere are more coming from up ahead!" Kurt warned, causing Scott to snap back into reality. "At least a dozen or so!"

"Great." Summers grumbled. "Nightcrawler, I need you to go on ahead to Herald Square without us!"

"Vhat, alone?! Vhy?!" Kurt froze, terrified at the prospect of splitting up.

"It sounded like Spider-Man needed help, and you're the fastest one here!" Cyclops shouted, midway between punching the lights out of a pair of tourists-turned-zombies. "No time to argue, Night, you gotta go!"

Nightcrawler leaped over the heads of a group of sprinting maniacs trying to tear him to shreds, landing with the grace of a dancer on the other side. Black smoke enveloped his fur-covered body, and he found himself all the way at the end of the street and looking out over the growing brawl from a distance. 

"Auweh, you vill be the death of me, Scott Summers." He muttered. "Zis is vhat I get for leaving ze house, I suppose."

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Hidden 5 yrs ago → 5 yrs ago Post by Mao Mao

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Mao Mao Sheriff of Pure Hearts (They/Them)

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New York City, New York
Present Day
Issue #4.02
𝗪𝗢𝗡𝗗𝗘𝗥 𝗪𝗢𝗠𝗔𝗡 & 𝗦𝗨𝗣𝗘𝗥𝗚𝗜𝗥𝗟

New York City. It was the first American city that Diana visited with Steve after the first World War. At first, she wasn't impressed and thought it was uninspiring compared to Europe and their cities. Steve explained how New Yorkers were the ones that caught his attention more than the fancy skyscrapers. He noted how they were the ones that made the city extraordinary. Of course, she didn't understand what he meant at first; however, she realized his words as the city grew into what it was today. Its people overcame struggles throughout a century and became stronger as a result. And now, it was under attack once more by a swarm capable of turning a person into a savage killer.

Diana made her way to Central Park, ground zero of Stryfe's attack, to investigate the scene. She noticed plenty of dead bodies scattered throughout the park while a few of the infected were still around. Some of them started fighting against each other while others roamed around looking for their next prey. Suddenly, a young man with blood around his mouth hopped on top of a car's hood and screamed at the top of his lungs. His eyes were heavily damaged due to claw marks while his hands were covered in blood. Then, he jumped off of the hood in a single leap and starting charging towards Diana without hesitation. Before defending herself, she tried to warm the man but there wasn't a response. That was when she waited for the moment to strike. 

The crazed man tried to grab Diana but failed miserably because she responded by sending him to the ground with enough force to be knocked out cold. None of this made sense to Diana. She tried to piece together how Stryfe was able to produce these bugs. It wasn't possible that a single man was able to mass produce those bugs and create the art sculptures. That was when she thought of Aladdin. To her, it made sense since he talked about planning something big for the world. However, during their last encounter, he didn't give any hints about the attack nor seemed done with her. There were enough possibilities and reasons for Aladdin to be behind the attack but none of them were reliable. 

For now, she considered him to be a contributor to the attack.

After turning away from the unconscious man, Diana saw the art piece in the distance and ran towards it because she thought nobody else was in the area. Until a thug with an assault rifle caught her out in the open and opened fire. She blocked the bullets with her bracelets and quickly pulled out her shield as more men arrived to assist. With no cover in sight, she was stuck with only her shield and bracelets to protect her for bullets. One of the men went around her and got a clear view of her.

But he didn’t get enough time to make a good, solid shot.

The sky cracked with a loud ‘thwoom’ as something breached the sound barrier. As the man turned he soon found his gun removed from his hand. In a split second he was flying through the air. It was enough of a spectacle to draw the attention of a few more of the thugs present, though they knew they needed to keep the pressure up on Diana. If they broke their fire she would have just enough amount of time to rethink tactically and bring them down.

As the thug hit the ground a loud, but clear voice called out to the group of armed thugs.

“Hey! You guys know its rude to shoot armor-piercing bullets at girls, right?”

The gunfire stopped. For a second. Before they immediately began firing at this new target that was levitating above them with their hands pressed on her waist and what seemed to be a confident posture.

Diana thought that she was a goner until the arrival of the mysterious girl bearing an "S" on her shirt. It was remarkable how fast she took care of the armed man, but they kept firing their weapons. Until she called them out. The silence gave Diana enough time to get herself in position and a quick rest. The thugs turned their attention towards the stranger and opened fire. She didn't even flinch as the bullets clashed against her body. Diana was astonished at the sight of the girl standing in the air with no care. Meanwhile, as the thugs contemplated their approach against the two of them, one of them began to slowly walk backwards from the group while reloading. The man's choice gave Diana an opening. She raised her shield and charged towards him with determination. He was too late to respond and immediately felt the consequences with a shield-bash. 

Diana knocked the thug's gun out of hands and sent him to the ground. The others turned around and saw her near them, opening firing at her once more. She put her shield up to block the bullets and tried to reach for her sword, but she remembered the vow to never use it unless in emergencies. It was going to be interesting fighting without it, but she still had the lasso to use. Diana took another look at the stranger as she seemed to use her amazing speed to push the fight further, disarming a few of the thugs and throwing one of them into another one. 

“Get her!” One of the men growled as they scrambled to their feet.

“Which one?!”

The blonde girl seemed to chuckle at their worries before quickly grabbing the one giving the orders by his collar and throwing him into the air.

As Diana pushed forward she contemplated how many more she needed to take down. As far as she could tell, the new girl was diverting just enough attention to help her quickly take the group down one-by-one. There were only three men left now. First, she dealt with the first one by using the same shield method but ending it with a kick to his face. For the second, she flipped over him and simply delivered a swift kick to the right side of his hip. As she did so, the final guy threw his weapon aside and pulled out a sharp knife out of his pocket. He aimed the blade at Diana and challenged her to combat. Before she could respond to his request for combat, he vanished in a matter of seconds as something grabbed hold of him and sent him across the street.

It didn't take much time for Diana to shuffle the now unconscious group of men to a few adjacent light-posts and restrain them. 

“I mean, I warned them.” The blonde remarked as she remained levitating in the air, eyeing the structures around them as if she was looking for something.

After rounding up the group, Diana finally had time to breathe and realize how similar the stranger's powers were to hers. The teen's strength, flight, and speed were genuinely remarkable and unmatched by anything in the world except for maybe herself. It made her question if she was another God or a rare metahuman. So with that question in mind, Diana started to hover over the ground and made her way towards the stranger to examine up close. Once she was close to her, Diana took a moment to study her outfit. It looked simple albeit oddly charming, especially with the strange red "S" standing out for the blue. Then, she stared at the teenager and asked her a simple question.

"Who are you?"

As is snapping the girl out of a trance, Diana’s question seemed to catch her off-guard.

“Oh, uh, gosh. Well, I—” There was a slight pause as the blonde's eyes widened as she met eye contact with Diana. “—holy crap, you’re Wonder Woman.”

Diana couldn't help smiling at her genuine reaction to meeting her in person. It was always good to be reminded that some people still liked her. Especially when there were some people hellbent in destroying her reputation and ruining her life at the same time. 

The girl cleared her throat. “Sorry. Kara. My name is Kara. Though the people over in Metropolis call me Supergirl, not that I’ve ever really decided on a name or anything. Big fan.”

Supergirl. Diana liked the name because it went well with the "S" on her outfit. Though, this was the first time that she heard about her in Metropolis. It was when she noted to herself to study her activities and other possible new heroes. Hopefully, she would get some time to research after the mess with the committee was done. 

Diana extended her hand out to Kara and responded, "Nice to meet you, Supergirl. I'm assuming that you are here to deal with this crisis upon us?"

Kara extended her hand in kind, grasping Diana's own. 

“Well, I’m not here for the scenery.” Kara uttered as she released her grip, as her pupils seemed to change as she looked back in the direction she was looking in before Diana had started their conversation. “I’m noticing a lot of activity all over Manhattan, we’ve got to take down these towers before the entire city goes insane. They seem to be the source.”

"Of course but we can't do it by ourselves." Diana let go of Kara's hand and turned her attention towards the city's skyline and the swarm. "There has to be other heroes either coming or already here. We need to find them and work together as a group to help out non-infected citizens, take down the towers, and capture Stryfe and his goons."

“Can’t disagree with that. While you deal with this tower in Central Park, I’ll try to do damage control. If that's okay. You're the expert, but there's a lot of people who need my help and I'm not a girl who likes sitting on her thumbs.”

"Fair enough." Diana said with a smile and started heading towards the art piece. She stopped for a moment and turned towards Kara. "Actually, I want to give you some advice since I sense you're new to being a hero. Avoid the negativity that people might give you because they might be mentally damaged for this mess and don't mean it. Think about your actions because it might influence what people think about you. I learned that the hard way recently. And if you're feeling like the world's on your shoulder, just calm down and breathe. It helps me out a whole lot."

Kara nodded, “Weird timing, but alright. Good luck.”

And in a blink ‘Supergirl’ was gone.

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Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by DocTachyon

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DocTachyon Teenage Neenage Neetle Teetles

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SPIDER-MAN: THE DISTANCE

Issue 9.1 -- From Peter’s Playlist; Somebody To Love

New York City, NY --- Manhattan

“When the truth is found / To be lies / And all the joy / Within you dies…”

Peter’s Spider-Sense didn’t feel the same as he launched himself from the Queens-Midtown tunnel. There was no stabbing behind his eyes, no irresistible pull on all of his senses. It was a film over his perception, a creeping sense and a chill over his body. It felt like seeing Ben in the hospital, no pain, just dread in every fiber of him. 

“Don’t you want somebody to love? Don’t you need somebody to love?”

His headphones bumped in his ears as he swang, yanking himself through the air and banking turns around the sheer faces of buildings. By now the bugs had breached Midtown and swelled into Grand Central like a typhoon, sweeping tourists into the sickness. Already the violence had leaped into the streets of Murray Hill, cracks and snaps and snarling screams erupted from the streets below. Lines of smoke were smeared into the sky, like a decidedly macabre Bob Ross painting.

“Wouldn’t you love somebody to love? You better find somebody to love, love…”

Peter fell lower from his swing and slammed into the side of a building, running down the surface of it and making shrill squeaks across the glass. He shoved off from it and hit the pavement at a sprint. This street was clear, but the buildings around him framed the picture of 5th Avenue’s chaos.

A horde of tourists and locals clashed in the road in a flurry of fists and feet and teeth. It sounded like a butcher shop, knuckles crashing into the soft tissue, and the stench of blood hung in the air like a thick fog bleeding off into the side alleys. One man dragged another behind him by what was left of his hairline, holding a cracked baseball bat in the other hand. The man in his grip gnashed his teeth and thrashed, broken legs splayed underneath him spasticity. Peter thought he saw ragged bone moving underneath the folds of his flesh, making tears and scarring the muscle inside. The first man dropped the second and brought his bat over his head, readying for a final grand slam.

A globule of webbing tagged the bat and it shot from the guy’s hand and bounced across the concrete. The sound echoed through the alley and his head snapped forward, looking for the unseen assailant.

“There's your problem, you gotta choke up more on the bat!” Spider-Man bounded forward and launched a packet of webbing into the man’s chest. He took it with a grunt and charged forward like a deranged animal, forgetting about his former target. His whole body twisted and spun as he ran, slobbering for a shot at Peter.

Peter aimed low and tapped his palms without missing a beat. Webbing stuck fast around the civilian's right leg and he dropped forward like a sack of bricks, his nose made a sickening crunch against the pavement. Peter sidestepped the man and glued his torso to the ground with a blob of webs in the same motion.

The man with broken legs was still coming, dragging his weight across the pavement with his bare hands. His fingertips were bloody and raw from the effort but he kept coming anyway, making swipes at the black leg of Peter’s costume as he drew close.

“Take five, man... and buy some leg braces.” Peter fired a web across his back to fasten the man to the ground and then threw himself out into the main body of the brawl, which had already begun to twist into the alley.

Peter was a whirling dervish through the crowd. He pulled one man into another and webbed them together before using them to push over a behemoth of a man who had squeezed his bulging muscles into a ‘I LOVE NY’ tank top that was a size too small and stained with blood. Webs came out in sheets from his wrists, plastering people to each other and into the ground, tying up their limbs so they could do nothing but gnash their teeth.

“If you’d all form an orderly line, please!” Peter absorbed a shoulder check from a pasty office clerk and hurled the man over his shoulder, knocking over another row of combatants like bowling pins. He lashed out with his fist and felt something break against it, when he felt a buzz against his leg that probably wasn’t the ankle biting toddler trying to pull out his tibia.

“Incoming call from EYE-EMOTICON EYE-EMOTICON.” A robotic voice dinned in his ear. He picked the toddler up by the scruff of his neck and launched him across the street.

“Accept!” Peter yelled into the mic on his headphones. He webbed a net for the toddler on the other side of the road as the little boy came screaming down from the sky.

“This is TGI Spidey’s, may I take your order?” It was as much a response to Scott as it was a call to the legions of drooling tourists around him, screaming for his blood.

“We’re almost at Central Park, how you holding up?” Static crackled in the other teen hero’s response while Peter felt a collarbone give way under his kick. The crowd was thinning now, mostly tourists and big guys that survived the initial melee.

“I’m -- Hey! We’re not holding a kegger down here!” Peter danced backward as a muscled arm lanced from the crowd, slinging a forty of vodka like a club. A web pulled the drink from the man’s hand and the glass exploded across the ground. Instantly Peter was on top of him, slamming a knee into his solar plexus.

“Sorry, sorry. I’m near Murray Hill, seeing what’s to see from the Empire State. There’s a lot of party guests out here,” Peter fired a web from either hand, hitting on gaudy superhero logos emblazoned on two people’s shirts, “I don’t think I brought enough *hng* goodie bags for everyone.” Peter tugged on the lines and they collapsed onto the concrete.

“Alright, we’ll swing down that way to help you out! Just hold on, we’ll be there in fifteen, alright?”

Swinging’s my thing, Polyphemus. Peter shoved one of the last combatants to the ground and pinned her there with a web. The street was mostly deserted now, by Peter’s measure -- but there’d be more, soon. If there weren’t any left to stream out of Grand Central, Penn Station was just around the corner.

“Meet you by Herald Square. Til’ then I got a date with the tourist patrol.” The suit squeezed around Peter’s torso and pressed the ‘end call’ button on his headphones, and the song began its din in his ears once more.

“When the garden flowers / Baby, are dead, yes…”

Peter jumped into the sky and web poured from his hands and twisted itself into a line. He swung forward and shifted his grip on the line, releasing, and he landed against glass and concrete launching off and upwards into the sky. The Empire State Building. He started the crawl up the side of it and settled into a run, dashing across long panes of glass and steady stretches of rebar and concrete supporting the building’s height.

The city expanded before him as he climbed. The block gave way to the neighborhood and then to the borough at large, a concrete jungle of architecture and art spanning out to beyond the horizon. It was form and function and style married in a mish-mash of decades and styles nestled together on one isle, one city, one voice. One New York. And it was on fire.

Pillars of smoke stood out from the skyline like the black towers spreading mechanical bugs through every major roadway. From this height, the people were ants, dueling on the rooftops and having mass warfare in the streets. Blue and red police lights were drowned in flashes of gunfire and explosions blossoming from every corner. Peter slipped and stumbled ahead on the face of the glass. He looked down and righted himself, but when he looked back -- What? That wasn’t there before.

It was some kind of aircraft, ugly and bulbous and blue, with spindly legs hanging off of it from either side. It looked a little like the spider symbol on his back, but blown up to incredible proportions. Engines hummed steadily beneath its chassis. Giant yellow eyes stared into the city beyond, undoubtedly hiding whoever was inside the cockpit.

Peter attached a webline to the Empire State and flipped backwards, rocketing down twenty feet in the blink of an eye. The ship disappeared as fast as it had come into his vision, as if it was simply plucked out of reality.

What? That can’t be right… He stared at the spot for a moment, looking for some kind of shimmer in the light, a failure to maintain the illusion. Peter frowned and ran back upwards, as the bug once again came into view.

Ah, bottom facing stealth plating. That’s some kinda advanced… Peter coiled the muscles in his body and leaped off from the building, making a lump for the aircraft. He fell in the open air as the craft went invisible again and he fired upwards. The line connected with something that wasn’t there and he brought himself around with his momentum, landing on top of it. The metal gave a dull clang as he landed. Shit, that’s some kind of armor.

He rapped his knuckles on the top.

“I really hope you’re on my team, dude.” Peter searched for any divots in the plating, signs of an entry hatch. “If not, you’d better leave the keys in the ignition for me.”

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