I mean, at that point just make a Wick-like story where Hawkeye or someone like that is part of the Assassin's Guild and wants out and goes on a rampage to do that
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[OOC] Absolute Comics - Justice Rising Page 7
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mickilennial The Elder Fae
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Mao Mao Sheriff of Pure Hearts (They/Them)
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Sorry, but I have plans for Hawkeye to be Diana's probation officer. lol
mickilennial The Elder Fae
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0-24 hrs ago
Sorry, but I have plans for Hawkeye to be Diana's probation officer. lol
How Henry let you get away with that is beyond me.
Ever Faithful Will always be Ever Faithful
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5 days ago
shame, I need to do some character research.
GM
HenryJonesJr
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2 yrs ago
Sorry, but I have plans for Hawkeye to be Diana's probation officer. lol
Yea, we might have to discuss that part. lol
3x Thank
Sep Lord of All Creation
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11 hrs ago
<Snipped quote by HenryJonesJr>
Bro I told you that in confidence don't go leaking my secret plans
The top quality stuff I expect from you Uni.<Snipped quote by Mao Mao>
How Henry let you get away with that is beyond me.
<Snipped quote by Mao Mao>
Yea, we might have to discuss that part. lol
Roman Grumpy Toad / King of Dirt
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18 hrs ago
Hi gang. As most of you are aware I've been keeping up with the IC as it's posted and also collating my thoughts on each post in a mix between reaction and review. I'll carry on with it and post a new one every so often when I get a reasonably sized batch.
@HenryJonesJr
@webboysurf
@Byrd Man
@Inkarnate
@ComradeMaxx
@IceHeart
@HenryJonesJr
@Simple Unicycle
@Master Bruce
@Byrd Man
@Bounce
@Retired
@Sep
If anyone doesn't want their reviews public in future, or in present, let me know ASAP and I will make a note in my tracker and/or edit this post.
@HenryJonesJr
Lovely early characterisation of Steve and Rogue, and the blossoming Father Figure to Outlaw Teen relationship is one that’s worked for me before and will undoubtedly work for me again. Some of it feels a little rushed, like there are pieces of context and historical references I’m not getting, but since this is a soft reboot maybe I shouldn’t begrudge you for my own bad habits. The end also feels cut short, like maybe the post should have ended with the characters referring to Xavier’s before fading out, or carried on past their initial arrival. As it is it feels a little guillotined. Still, Steve is great, Rogue is great, and it gives the story a clear direction with the mutant angle.
Really getting a crystal clear picture of Rogue and the path she’s walked in this one; she’s guarded, bitter, and thick with abandonment issues. Sadly it’s also fairly clear she’s allowing these scars to get the better of her and there are outstanding self-esteem issues that push her around a self-fulfilling cycle. It’s some great characterisation, but I am also hoping we’ll get this same level of introspection on Steve, especially as the Nomad angle is a massive shift for him as a character and he must be feeling some regret or remorse. Pacing feels a little off again as well, but that may be a side effect of Rogue’s character in that she won’t allow herself the adjustment period, and perhaps doesn’t believe she deserves a haven like Xavier’s school. Either way, the discussion is very short and overall the school feels like a cameo bit rather than a vital story stopping point.
@webboysurf
Tony is a decent Tony. You’re hitting a lot of classic character traits but there isn’t massive amounts of depth of character here, although it’s literally the first post and I’m probably being overly critical. I like the backdoor plot point and the avenue of this subtle digital subterfuge but I also struggle to sit well with the single email as the lynchpin that got Midas caught. Would you send an email for what is apparently such a dire threat? If Midas could erase the email before it ever arrived, how did SHIELD intercept it? And if SHIELD intercepting it was a possibility, did Midas think they WOULDN’T inform Tony, the designer and engineer of the suits and their software? It’s the debut and clearly a vehicle to get the plot ball rolling and push the characters where they need to go but it feels a bit inelegant. I do want to know more about Midas and his plans and the potential for the suits to be hijacked though, so from a storytelling perspective you’ve done exactly what you need to do.
@Byrd Man
I like Jessica, and a classic ‘this is hardly fair! For you!’ one liner always goes down well. It’s nice to see a GL ‘on the beat’ so to speak as well. "Synchronicity" made me glance sideways, I will admit. Is Boodikka Boudica? Or is that synchronicity in action? The follow up about Jessica is a nice little ghost story, although I think you meant separated FROM the ring, not BY the ring? Otherwise that’s one violent piece of jewelry. Some classic MIA-presumed-dead foreshadowing as well. Is Cromica Iran/Iraq/Pakistan/Afghanistan/InsertNextCountryTheUSInvadesHere? Do I need to start saying AGLAB instead of ACAB? Joking aside I like the parallels to real life politics, writing is always a vehicle for opinion and we’d do well to embrace it more often. In any case, SPACE WESTERN GO! Good briefing scene, nice exposition, sets the tone of things to come with a nod and a wink and a pulling my pants down and slapping me on the bum. And I want to see Thaal go yellow. Who ever thought he’d be a good guy? He has a mustache. And his name is Sinestro. And more Jessica in a true desert stranding situation. Lovely all around. Congrats, you made this nihilistic anticap anar-socialist care about space cops.
Jessica lives ! Excellent. I love the idea of ‘water’ being such a foreign concept they mistake it for a name. Or they’re just speaking 2 different languages and the soldiers just don’t understand her. The space western themes carry on and carry on well, being a peculiar but workable mix of parody and played straight. Back to Sinestro, nice Guy reference. Doing a good job of building the Lanterns as a truly galaxy-wide operation with thousands of agents all out on patrol or assignment. I’m enjoying the political minefield that an organisation like the Green Lanterns has to wade through to remain a respectable authority. Sinestro has some good reasons to be angry and maybe some poor choices of outlets and actions - it’s clear to see the potential of why he would turn. And the foreshadowing from the reaction of the Rannian Premier starts a good foundation.
@Inkarnate
Nice set up. I genuinely don’t know who this guy is but he’s confident, menacing, powerful, and means business, so all around this is a lovely short’n’sweet intro post for (presumably) this arc’s main adversary. I look forward to seeing more of him and learning who he is and what he’s about. The cynic in me thinks back to the last time we were Absolute-ing together and I found your villains entertaining but Kara herself rather dry, however. But I shouldn’t/won’t/can’t pass judgement until I actually see Kara, so I’m looking forward to that.
Okay so now I’ve seen Kara and she’s clearly more confident and on-her-feet now with a few seasons under the belt and the characterisation is more concrete. It’s nice seeing her a bit more mature and in a more traditional ‘superhero’ position. Interesting plotpoint with the mutant experiments, especially if it ties into Superboy’s story. I am looking forward to a bit more depth explored to Kara, though.
@ComradeMaxx
A rough start for me on this one with a lot of different characters very quickly introduced and chattering amongst each other, and I’m reading at 3am and I am tired, but I found it tricky to follow and wasn’t actually entirely sure what was going on until the fight started. And then the fight was amazing and there was some great storytelling involved and it enthralled me and now we have like a Pinocchio kinda thing with Superboy and this clone angle and like are these guys a villain protag if they’re developing a weapon to defeat supergirl because that’s intriguing and mr harper is clearly getting attached to things he shouldn’t be and there’s the psychologically implanted command which is very neat and I’m sure is going to play a big part in future events and has been introduced nicely here without being in your face about it. All in all slow start but man that was decent.
@IceHeart
I’m really not digging this very 1950’s feeling of what a woman’s life entails and I hope it’s an intentional character flaw that will get ironed out as part of the ongoing development in the story, but that doesn’t make it any easier to read right now. Especially since it’s not a “woman’s world”, but a man’s world that demands a woman behave this way or be shunned, and probably treated second-class-at-best anyway. Anyway: I like the inhabiting-a-body concept and there are some hints to major past events that we may or may not learn more about (cross my fingers for the former) and there’s a hint of the duality of the two psyches with the mother instinct overriding Lukasz’ desire to train. It could go a lot of ways and I’m optimistic about the amount of italicized “woman” being used coming down.
I’m gonna come out and say outright that I am not comfortable with the way you write a female protag. She’s hyper-sexualised for a start; then you made her a secretary??? “Apparently” adept like it’s a surprise? The outrage of workplace sexual harassment not coming from the act's existence but from the fact that Lukasz isn’t the one committing the act? I had hoped there would be some sense of this being a character flaw but if it is you’re certainly not filtering it through the right lens, as nothing in your writing appears to condemn any of what troubles me. If this continues then I’m really going to struggle with your whole character. The second half of your post is a much better read even if still marred by poor sentence structure and the odd typo. Proofreading your work would probably go a long way, and really think about your use of grammar to mix up your rhythm and create a natural ebb and flow to your prose.
@HenryJonesJr
It’s incredible seeing someone even play the turtles in a game like this for a start, so you have that going for you right from the get go. Then the 4 of them have a delightful back-and-forth and some clear dynamics, positive and negative, which hooks me into how these guys are going to get along with each other in the face of greater foes. Also Raph is giving me Knuckles vibes and I can’t wait for the potential betrayal-redemption arc. I’m a disgusting amount of slut for Jameson so love that cameo. Terror Turtles? Fucking gold. A lot of plots being introduced, and I don’t know much about TMNT other than the turtles themselves, Splinter, Shredder, and the love of pizza, so it’ll be fun to see the wider scope of the characters and their allies. Some villain introduction and foreshadowing. A shame about the lack of cowabunga. I feel like TMNT could have played a lot sillier than this, for better and for worse, and you’ve done really well to make giant radioactive ninja turtles not seem completely tonally dissonant among some of the more grizzled and gritty entries in the roster.
@Simple Unicycle
It’s my favourite. Of all the posts I’ve read so far, this is my favourite. The first person perspective is somehow natural despite being nestled amongst the more traditional 3rd of the other characters, the action is fast and impactful, Vic’s character is immediately apparent without being exaggerated or ham-fisted. It’s a pleasure to read, and the song you picked was an incredible companion to the piece. Christ, I can’t wait to read more of this.
Another strong entry with more strong characterisation and some great character interaction between Vic and Roscoe, and more great music, and overall this whole RP is going to be me flipping back and forth between Vic and the Night Shift. Look, this is great, okay? It’s a little episodic right now without much greater scope direction to go on, and I’m looking forward to seeing some grander plans and a more overarching, cohesive plot, but so far it’s cool seeing pre-Question Vic getting tips off hobo’s and beating up bodega burglars.
@Master Bruce
Alfred’s journal entry is a delightfully mournful introduction to the story, and shows the impact of the Wayne Killings from an angle we don’t often get to see, without overly-flogging an extremely tired horse. The follow-up bait and switch into Batman conspiracy theory is incredible as well. I like the board setting, showing a Wayne Enterprises that’s still balanced between helping the city and helping their own profits, and I love old-man-Bruce being a miserable old bastard. The confrontation between Isley and Wayne is brilliantly executed, and Bruce’s cutting final words clearly demonstrate that the Bat is alive and well at least in spirit, even if his body can’t keep up anymore. The new Batman is great as well, enough there to show us he’s serious about his mission but very little of his game given away - just his creed and his objective, and a little tease of his capabilities. An extremely strong start and I’m very keen on seeing more of Bruce and more of his rogue successor.
@Byrd Man
I love the immediacy of the supernatural element used to set the tone for the ongoing story. The Architect is clearly powerful and alien and sinister, but not necessarily a man of bad morals or an outright villain. It’s a clear jumping-off-point and a nice cold open to the main plot thread. Okay, this might be my new favourite? Sorry Vic, but a rag-tag bunch of misfit ‘detectives’ solving supernatural crimes? Sure, just tickle my pickle while you’re checking every single one of my boxes why don’t you and we’ll split the bill at the end of the evening. Meeting the team was just the right balance of introduction vs exposition, learning a little about each new member as we circle around the gang and then slap bang into the plot hook. I am charmed and everything else can wait while you write more of these guys.
Sister Justine is great, with a welcomed bit of spotlight to delve a little deeper into her character, but still managing to give away tiny little nuggets about some of the others at the same time - and there’s a lot of low, subtle humour in her interactions with Tork. Who is, by the way, a wonderful vehicle for the audience to understand and get to know the Night Shift squad without dumping exposition walls on us. A lovely little execution of the surrogate. The whole post is a fantastic demonstration of the characters in action and everyone is clearly all business right now, and we’re really getting into the supernatural of it as well. I adore it, through and through. Witches have have a bit of a resurgence in recent media and I hope we get to see some of the true horror an actual Witch is capable of and indeed willing to commit. Every important cast member has been introduced now and we’ve seen everyone’s hat, so I’m now eager to get deeper introspection on each member of the squad. And some more lovely low-key humour with the coffee. Night Shift are heading for my MVPs of the season already. Vic’s going to have to work hard to keep up !
@Bounce
An action-packed intro to the character and entertaining and fast paced, but unfortunately as this is just set up for setting and location we don’t get a lot of Wildfire’s character just yet. There’s a lot to be inferred from circumstance though, with the sense of an outlaw on the run and stranded in unknown space far from home...the fish-out-of-water vibes are strong and it’s clear there will be power level experimentation with the new energy he’s absorbed and a big adjustment period to come. I’m looking forward to seeing what lead to the current situation he’s found himself in.
@Retired
I immediately like Frank. You’ve done very well at making him human but still a military man through and through. It’ll be interesting to watch him as Cap and see how his path diverges from the Castle we already know. Will he experience tragedy? Will he react the same? It’s a bold concept in play here and I’m really eager to see the character put in that role and I hope it doesn’t end up being inconsequential, or a pallete-swap for Steve. The flashback sequence is a nice preamble intro and we get some nice introspection from Castle himself about his new rank and role. Not much is given away here about future events or overarching plot though, but that’s not strictly necessary in debut posts. It’s nice enough to just get a sense of the character first. Looking forward to more.
@Sep
Historical cold opens are very popular this go around. Still it’s cool to see the progenitor of Asgard and sheds a little light on Odin, an otherwise fairly flat character. The rest is pretty good. Foreshadowing, some exposition, some nice insight on Thor - I like the internal struggle between his duties to Asgard and his nature as a warrior - and we get to see how he behaves with both his friends and his subjects. And there’s a clear set up for future threat with plenty of mystery to keep us hooked. The writing feels a bit stilted sometimes and I found some of the syntax difficult to read, but nothing actively bad, just maybe some tidying up to be done to make the flow feel a bit neater, tighten it up a bit. Otherwise, solid start.
If anyone doesn't want their reviews public in future, or in present, let me know ASAP and I will make a note in my tracker and/or edit this post.
10x Thank
Sep Lord of All Creation
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11 hrs ago
Retired "Hayao Miyazaki"
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0-24 hrs ago
Sep Lord of All Creation
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So what do you all make of this:
2x Like
Morden Man
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2 mos ago
C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L
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T H E M A R T I A N M A N H U N T E R
J' O N N J' O N N Z Z ♦ M A N H U N T E R ♦ S P A C E ♦ N O N - A F F I L I A T E D
C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:
“There are three things all wise men fear: the sea in a storm, a night with no moon, and the anger of a gentle man.”
We meet this J’onn J’onnzz when he is at his lowest ebb. The annihilation of the Green Martians, J’onn’s wife and daughter among them, has left him a broken man. Where the Martian Manhunter we’re familiar with is inadvertently brought to Earth and eventually becomes a superhero, this J’onn flees for the furthest reaches of space. He is the lone survivor of the extermination of his people – and driven by his failure to protect his loved ones, he sets about exacting vengeance against evil-doers across the universe with such an intensity that some regard him an urban legend.
C H A R A C T E R M O T I V A T I O N S & G O A L S:
J’onn is motivated purely by his desire for vengeance. He has a dim view of the Green Lantern Corps and all other forms of galactic authorities, who he considers to have failed Mars. As such, J’onn takes it upon himself to track down and mete out justice to cosmic war criminals. His services are not available for hire. He is a lone figure, with few associates and even fewer friends, and has little to no desire to form attachments with others. Despite his obsession with vengeance, J’onn does not, by trade, deal in lethal force unless it is wholly avoidable – and will not shed the blood of innocents even on pain of death.
C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:
Unlike other interpretations of the character, I intend to keep my Martian Manhunter spacebound. He has no connection to Earth, nor its heroes, and is solely motivated by his crusade to exact justice throughout the universe by whatever means necessary at this stage. He is therefore a far cry from the loveable, Oreo-scoffing Martian Manhunter that most of us are familiar with.
S A M P L E P O S T:
Zkedia Mining Colony, Jiden-5
Salt crunched beneath Drex’s hooves. In front of him, he could hear the sobbing of J’vanna, the doctor’s son. The boy couldn’t have been more than six cycles old. Drex opened his mouth to offer a word of consolation to J’vanna but was silenced by a sudden jab in the back. The Centaurian mercenary behind him attempted to bray something to him in broken Kymellian but Drex couldn’t make sense of it. He didn’t need to understand it to know what was coming next.
For thousands of cycles, Drex’s people had called this planet their home. Though they were Kymellian, their isolation had robbed them of the abilities some of their kind possessed. The salt pits that had drawn them there had been both the making of his people and their undoing. They had grown weak, complacent. Drex understood that now as he marched to his end with what remained of his people.
Finally there came a cry from the Centaurian general that brought the entire procession to a halt beside a gorge. Once again Drex was jabbed in the back, though this time with enough force to send him down onto his hooves. His head hit the ground and revealed the blood red soil beneath it. Drex winced slightly, feeling blood trickling freely from the cut on his forehead. Beside him, the young J’vanna’s sobs grew louder with every passing moment – to the point that he was heaving. It was undignified, Drex thought, before damning himself quietly for his judgement.
The Centaurian general stepped forward. His bulging muscles were covered in deep blue scars and the shock of red hair that rose from his skull stood tallest among his men. He withdrew the golden bow from his back and slipped one of his arrows into place. All around him, Drex heard his people let out fearful cries but he remained silent. The general drew back his bowstring and following on from his lead his men did so too – creating a sound not unlike a thousand nails running along a chalkboard all at once.
The Centaurian general held his bowstring back without any sign of exertion. To Centaurians, the bow was more than a weapon, it was like another limb – the bond between them was almost sacred. Finally, in his last moments Drex turned his mind to all things sacred. Though his people had long since strayed from the old ways and few among them worshipped the gods of Kymellia, the prayers of his childhood came back to him.
“May the Mother forgive us.”
Drex’s eyes clamped shut as he heard the cracking of a thousand Centaurian bows unfurling. Time seemed to slow to a complete standstill as Drex sensed the lethal payload barrelling towards them. His eyes still shut he felt a hand clamp around his and his own hand compelled without his consent to reach out for the Kymellian beside him. His eyes opened and he realised to his disbelief that he was still alive.
“The Mother,” J’vanna smiled at him. “She saved us.”
There was a roar of confusion from among the Centaurian horde as they collectively reached into their quivers for more ammunition. Drex scanned his people’s numbers and saw among them the source of their salvation. There was a lone green figure stood with a single hand on the shoulder of a Kymellian woman. Drex shook his head in disbelief – it was a Martian.
Before the Centaurians had a chance to send forth another barrage, they found their numbers compromised. In a blur, the Martian cut through them. Each blow they sent in the Martian’s direction by way of defence, be it by bow or by first, passed through him. They were met by blows with ten times the force – some were sent skidding along the salt in a heap whilst others merely melted to the ground limply as the Martian’s limbs passed through them.
Drex climbed to his feet and with a roar sent his broken and beaten people into the fray to aid the Martian. In the melee, the Kymellian caught a glimpse of the towering shock of red hair that belonged to the Centaurian general. He cleaved a way through the carnage towards it with his hooves, smashing them down upon one foe after another to make his way towards him. Finally, the two adversaries encountered each other in the field.
“You will die here,” the Centaurian sneered as he drew his sword. “But at least you will have the honour of dying by my hand.”
Drex let out a guttural neigh as he flung himself towards the general. He parried a blow from the Centaurian’s sword away from his throat with left hoof and sent the right one towards the general’s exposed ribs. They traded blows for what seemed like hours and they appeared evenly matched for a time, but eventually Drex’s advanced years began to show, and the Centaurian gained the upper hand. He slipped through the Kymellian’s reach and managed to gain his back. The sacred forced itself over Drex’s neck and his hooves seemed powerless to stop the bowstring from cutting into his flesh.
<Enough.>
The Centaurian’s grip fell limp and the bowstring loosened. The Centaurian whimpered as he felt a hand glide into his chest and grip onto his heart. He looked over his shoulder to see the blood-covered Martian stood behind him. There was not an ounce of sympathy in the Martian’s deep red eyes – only a rage that seemed to emit a cold that chilled him to his bones. All around them the fighting continue, except for those in the near vicinity who seemed to sense the significance of the moment.
<You will command your men to stand down.>
Drex held a hand to his bleeding neck as he staggered away from them. He saw the look of defiance cross the general's face. “I will do no such thing, Martian. My men would sooner die than admit defeat to the likes of you.”
<Then die they will.>
One of the Martian’s green hands pressed against his temple and the battlefield fell silent. The Centaurian horde dropped their gilded bows to the ground and marched, as the Kymellians had, towards the waiting gorge. One by one they stepped voluntarily over the edge. Soon they were falling in their tens, hundreds even, as the confused Kymellians watched on. The exhilaration that Drex had felt turned to horror as the scale of the death dawned on him.
The defiance on the Centaurian general’s face seemed to melt and suddenly, suspended helplessly in place with the Martian’s hand clasped around his heart, he seemed to relent.
“No,” he murmured in a voice that was so defeated that it shocked Drex. “No more.”
<I offered you mercy once, Centaurian. I will not offer it again.>
More bodies tumbled over the cliff to the deaths. Drex found himself instinctively reaching out for a passing Centaurian. There was a glassy look in their eye that chilled the Kymellian to his core. No matter how hard Drex tried to restrain them, he could not stop them from marching to their death. More of his people reached out for their one-time adversaries in an effort to stop the Martian’s slaughter.
Through it all, a gentle hoof came to rest on their hulking green saviour’s forearm. J’vanna, the doctor’s son, had slipped through the crowd unnoticed. Where the others were terrified of the Martian, he was too young to know better than to approach him.
“Please,” J’vanna implored the Martian. “There’s been enough death for one day.”
The Martian stared down at the boy silently and somewhere deep inside of him something stirred. He relinquished his hold on the general’s heart and allowed him to fall to the ground with a thud. The Centaurian’s seemed to come to their senses. Drex watched on equal parts amazed by J’vanna’s courage and appalled by what had been done. The Martian lent down and placed one of his large hands over the Centaurian general’s head.
<You have felt but a fraction of the suffering my people felt. Know that I have seen into your mind, held your blackened heart in my hand, and judge you to be unworthy of this world. You will live on, but ... not without paying a price.>
The general let out a scream as billions of voices howled out in pain in his brain. He saw blood and fire, families torn apart, and a world set against itself until only the strongest remained. He began to froth at the mouth and convulse until, his mind shattered into a thousand pieces, he fell to his knees abruptly.
The surviving Centaurians watched on in shocked silence as the most capable among them was rendered a vegetable with but a fraction of the Martian’s strength.
<Leave this place.>
Without a second’s hesitation the archers scattered, scampering over the corpses of their fallen compatriots, some even dropping their bows as they made a hasty exit. Had Drex been minded to protest, the Martian’s display earned his silence and, in truth, his revulsion. Something about the scene compelled him to speak and, though he knew he ought to express gratitude, as his equine lips parted, admonishment appeared in its place.
“What gives you the right?” Drex said as he gestured to the gorge half-filled with Centaurian bodies. “You did this in our names.”
<No, Kymellian, I did it in theirs.>
For a tenth of a second, Drex felt the force of emotion that had been unleashed upon the general. It was enough to knock him to his knees. When he opened his eyes he found that tears were pouring from them without end. The Martian Manhunter was gone. Only silence remained.
Salt crunched beneath Drex’s hooves. In front of him, he could hear the sobbing of J’vanna, the doctor’s son. The boy couldn’t have been more than six cycles old. Drex opened his mouth to offer a word of consolation to J’vanna but was silenced by a sudden jab in the back. The Centaurian mercenary behind him attempted to bray something to him in broken Kymellian but Drex couldn’t make sense of it. He didn’t need to understand it to know what was coming next.
For thousands of cycles, Drex’s people had called this planet their home. Though they were Kymellian, their isolation had robbed them of the abilities some of their kind possessed. The salt pits that had drawn them there had been both the making of his people and their undoing. They had grown weak, complacent. Drex understood that now as he marched to his end with what remained of his people.
Finally there came a cry from the Centaurian general that brought the entire procession to a halt beside a gorge. Once again Drex was jabbed in the back, though this time with enough force to send him down onto his hooves. His head hit the ground and revealed the blood red soil beneath it. Drex winced slightly, feeling blood trickling freely from the cut on his forehead. Beside him, the young J’vanna’s sobs grew louder with every passing moment – to the point that he was heaving. It was undignified, Drex thought, before damning himself quietly for his judgement.
The Centaurian general stepped forward. His bulging muscles were covered in deep blue scars and the shock of red hair that rose from his skull stood tallest among his men. He withdrew the golden bow from his back and slipped one of his arrows into place. All around him, Drex heard his people let out fearful cries but he remained silent. The general drew back his bowstring and following on from his lead his men did so too – creating a sound not unlike a thousand nails running along a chalkboard all at once.
The Centaurian general held his bowstring back without any sign of exertion. To Centaurians, the bow was more than a weapon, it was like another limb – the bond between them was almost sacred. Finally, in his last moments Drex turned his mind to all things sacred. Though his people had long since strayed from the old ways and few among them worshipped the gods of Kymellia, the prayers of his childhood came back to him.
“May the Mother forgive us.”
Drex’s eyes clamped shut as he heard the cracking of a thousand Centaurian bows unfurling. Time seemed to slow to a complete standstill as Drex sensed the lethal payload barrelling towards them. His eyes still shut he felt a hand clamp around his and his own hand compelled without his consent to reach out for the Kymellian beside him. His eyes opened and he realised to his disbelief that he was still alive.
“The Mother,” J’vanna smiled at him. “She saved us.”
There was a roar of confusion from among the Centaurian horde as they collectively reached into their quivers for more ammunition. Drex scanned his people’s numbers and saw among them the source of their salvation. There was a lone green figure stood with a single hand on the shoulder of a Kymellian woman. Drex shook his head in disbelief – it was a Martian.
Before the Centaurians had a chance to send forth another barrage, they found their numbers compromised. In a blur, the Martian cut through them. Each blow they sent in the Martian’s direction by way of defence, be it by bow or by first, passed through him. They were met by blows with ten times the force – some were sent skidding along the salt in a heap whilst others merely melted to the ground limply as the Martian’s limbs passed through them.
Drex climbed to his feet and with a roar sent his broken and beaten people into the fray to aid the Martian. In the melee, the Kymellian caught a glimpse of the towering shock of red hair that belonged to the Centaurian general. He cleaved a way through the carnage towards it with his hooves, smashing them down upon one foe after another to make his way towards him. Finally, the two adversaries encountered each other in the field.
“You will die here,” the Centaurian sneered as he drew his sword. “But at least you will have the honour of dying by my hand.”
Drex let out a guttural neigh as he flung himself towards the general. He parried a blow from the Centaurian’s sword away from his throat with left hoof and sent the right one towards the general’s exposed ribs. They traded blows for what seemed like hours and they appeared evenly matched for a time, but eventually Drex’s advanced years began to show, and the Centaurian gained the upper hand. He slipped through the Kymellian’s reach and managed to gain his back. The sacred forced itself over Drex’s neck and his hooves seemed powerless to stop the bowstring from cutting into his flesh.
<Enough.>
The Centaurian’s grip fell limp and the bowstring loosened. The Centaurian whimpered as he felt a hand glide into his chest and grip onto his heart. He looked over his shoulder to see the blood-covered Martian stood behind him. There was not an ounce of sympathy in the Martian’s deep red eyes – only a rage that seemed to emit a cold that chilled him to his bones. All around them the fighting continue, except for those in the near vicinity who seemed to sense the significance of the moment.
<You will command your men to stand down.>
Drex held a hand to his bleeding neck as he staggered away from them. He saw the look of defiance cross the general's face. “I will do no such thing, Martian. My men would sooner die than admit defeat to the likes of you.”
<Then die they will.>
One of the Martian’s green hands pressed against his temple and the battlefield fell silent. The Centaurian horde dropped their gilded bows to the ground and marched, as the Kymellians had, towards the waiting gorge. One by one they stepped voluntarily over the edge. Soon they were falling in their tens, hundreds even, as the confused Kymellians watched on. The exhilaration that Drex had felt turned to horror as the scale of the death dawned on him.
The defiance on the Centaurian general’s face seemed to melt and suddenly, suspended helplessly in place with the Martian’s hand clasped around his heart, he seemed to relent.
“No,” he murmured in a voice that was so defeated that it shocked Drex. “No more.”
<I offered you mercy once, Centaurian. I will not offer it again.>
More bodies tumbled over the cliff to the deaths. Drex found himself instinctively reaching out for a passing Centaurian. There was a glassy look in their eye that chilled the Kymellian to his core. No matter how hard Drex tried to restrain them, he could not stop them from marching to their death. More of his people reached out for their one-time adversaries in an effort to stop the Martian’s slaughter.
Through it all, a gentle hoof came to rest on their hulking green saviour’s forearm. J’vanna, the doctor’s son, had slipped through the crowd unnoticed. Where the others were terrified of the Martian, he was too young to know better than to approach him.
“Please,” J’vanna implored the Martian. “There’s been enough death for one day.”
The Martian stared down at the boy silently and somewhere deep inside of him something stirred. He relinquished his hold on the general’s heart and allowed him to fall to the ground with a thud. The Centaurian’s seemed to come to their senses. Drex watched on equal parts amazed by J’vanna’s courage and appalled by what had been done. The Martian lent down and placed one of his large hands over the Centaurian general’s head.
<You have felt but a fraction of the suffering my people felt. Know that I have seen into your mind, held your blackened heart in my hand, and judge you to be unworthy of this world. You will live on, but ... not without paying a price.>
The general let out a scream as billions of voices howled out in pain in his brain. He saw blood and fire, families torn apart, and a world set against itself until only the strongest remained. He began to froth at the mouth and convulse until, his mind shattered into a thousand pieces, he fell to his knees abruptly.
The surviving Centaurians watched on in shocked silence as the most capable among them was rendered a vegetable with but a fraction of the Martian’s strength.
<Leave this place.>
Without a second’s hesitation the archers scattered, scampering over the corpses of their fallen compatriots, some even dropping their bows as they made a hasty exit. Had Drex been minded to protest, the Martian’s display earned his silence and, in truth, his revulsion. Something about the scene compelled him to speak and, though he knew he ought to express gratitude, as his equine lips parted, admonishment appeared in its place.
“What gives you the right?” Drex said as he gestured to the gorge half-filled with Centaurian bodies. “You did this in our names.”
<No, Kymellian, I did it in theirs.>
For a tenth of a second, Drex felt the force of emotion that had been unleashed upon the general. It was enough to knock him to his knees. When he opened his eyes he found that tears were pouring from them without end. The Martian Manhunter was gone. Only silence remained.
P O S T C A T A L O G:
N/A
Retired "Hayao Miyazaki"
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0-24 hrs ago
Ended up going out today, so post will come tomorrow, instead.
Sep Lord of All Creation
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11 hrs ago
Ended up going out today, so post will come tomorrow, instead.
Oh okay. Can't wait.
coGM
Hound55 Create-A-Hero RPG GM, Blue Bringer of BWAHAHA!
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Online
Really impressive all the work people have been getting done early.
Keep it up!
Keep it up!
coGM
Hound55 Create-A-Hero RPG GM, Blue Bringer of BWAHAHA!
Member
Online
Jack Knight rested his cosmic rod against the counter with a tired shrug. “You know how it is, same old, same old.”
Jack Knight?!?
Jack nodded understandingly and once more thought of his own home, Opal City, and all he had left behind there.
Opal City?!?
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Morden Man
Member
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2 mos ago
<Snipped quote by Morden Man>
Jack Knight?!?
<Snipped quote by Morden Man>
Opal City?!?
You've got your boy @Byrd Man to thank for that one. It was very much his idea, as most of the things I write that are any good tend to be.
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Retired "Hayao Miyazaki"
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0-24 hrs ago
Today would normally be the time I post but I am pushing that back to tomorrow. Needed to just take a 'me' day.
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Hexaflexagon
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7 mos ago
~Insert words here~
________________________________________
Jessica flicked her lighter on and off. It was a tick that she did when she was anxious, agitated, or waiting like she was now. She cupped the flame with her free hand to shield it from the sea breeze that habituated the boardwalk. Sitting there with the fur lined collar of her trucker jacket pulled up against her neck making it look like a priest’s habit, Jessica couldn't help but feel like she belonged in a Tarkovsky film. Unfortunately, the mere mention of Tarkovsky triggered a primordial gag reflex in her. She dated a film critic once and they collectively decided to do a marathon viewing of the Russian's work while slamming down several bottles of $15 Georgian vodka; she vomited for a week after that. Now the mere mention of Avant Garde Slavic filmmakers made her stomach do somersaults.
"Stomach disagreeing with you?"
Detective Zoe Kim sat down next to her. A solid streak of grey hair along her left temple made her look older than her mid-thirties. Dressed in all black with a matching leather jacket torn at the left shoulder and patched with duct tape, Zoe looked more like Lou Reed than a cop. But, the way she walked, like she owned the city, like she knew it like the back of her hand could have only been acquired by someone who had walked the beat.
"Cause you look like you're about to throw up your lunch Jones."
"Shut it Kim," Jessica croaked forcing down a rising current of bile. "it's just a psychological reaction."
"Sure looks like a psychological reaction," Kim replied with a shake of her head. "you mind if I borrow a light?"
Jessica raised the open flame of her lighter to a cigarette that Kim produced from her jacket pocket. There was a slight tremble in Kim's outreached hand that neither of them commented on. Permanent nerve damage that occurred on the pair's first outing. Kim took a bullet for her before she knew about the whole gene altering chemicals deal. The bullet luckily didn't go anywhere lethal, but it did fuck with the nerves in her left arm. After that she was shifted up the chain of command where she found detectives spend a lot more time sitting behind a desk than doing actual police work.
"You know," started Kim as she exhaled a cloud of smoke. "this was the first place I saw someone die? I was 13 down at the amusement park and this kid had just won a big stuffed polar bear to impress a girl. It was one of those big bears holding a heart, real sappy shit. Turns out though the girl's boyfriend wasn't moved by the suitor's advances and he drove a knife between the kid's ribs. The bear didn't stay too white after that."
"Love hurts." summarized Jessica with a shrug as she stashed her lighter away.
"Ain't that the truth," replied Kim with a philosopher's solemn nod. "though I suppose I didn't call you here to bitch about my childhood trauma."
"Yeah," replied Jessica. "you usually only do that when you're drunk."
"Haha," Kim answered in a dead monotone. "you know I can always offer this gig to somebody else."
"You'll be hard fucking pressed finding somebody better than me."
Silently conceding to Jessica's point, Kim withdrew a Manila folder from inside her jacket pocket and handed it over without comment. The first thing Jessica noticed was the word CONFIDENTIAL written in red permanent marker across the width of the folder. The second thing Jessica noticed was that the folder was very light which signaled to her that the case was either very old or very new, and judging by the fresh marker smell she suspected it was the latter. Jessica reached into the folder and in her digging she caught the edge of something smooth which she withdrew from the envelope.
It was a 4x12 print of a girl standing in front of the library at Bryant park. She was dressed stylishly in the latest trends and with long black hair that fell to about her waist. Young adult in her early twenties, judging by the cut of her clothes came from a wealthy family, and if Jessica had to guess probably Pakistani or Indian. She looked happy, but if she was happy then Jessica wouldn’t have to get involved.
“Who is she?” asked Jessica as she peered closer at the photo as if some hidden secrets would reveal themselves to her.
“Sahiba Chadha,” Kim stated as she ground the stub of her cigarette out into the bench they were sitting on. “senior at Columbia, studies Sociology, wants to pursue her PhD, and the daughter of the current Commissioner of Cultural Affairs - Mohsin Chadha.”
“And what’s wrong with her?”
“She’s been missing for a week now.”
“Are you and the good old boys in blue looking into it?” questioned Jessica.
“No investigation has been opened up, and I should let you know Jones,” answered Kim “this call comes straight from the Mayor’s office.”
Jessica raised a brow. She knew that soon after Kim got promoted the Mayor’s office had reached out to her to perform some consulting, but she hadn’t realized Kim had become the Mayor’s hand in the force. It was something that Jessica could never do, she hated politics with a passion and tried her best to keep a respectable distance from any governmental office. But Kim had rent to pay like anyone else and Jessica figured it helped having friends in high places.
“What’s the Mayor’s office have to do with this?” Jessica asked as she slotted the photo back into the envelope.
“Mohsin Chadha is the man that the establishment is grooming to be the next Mayor. A big enough scandal could bring down a mayoral race before it even starts. So, the powers that be want to do everything in their power to solve this problem before the press get their hands on it. So that means no NYPD, and especially no official investigations.”
“Only little old me,” finished Jessica “I hope the “establishment” knows that I don’t come cheap.”
“Check the bottom of the bag.” replied Kim who by this point had turned her gaze away from her companion and towards the water.
Jessica reached further down and felt her hands brush up against a small bundle held together by a binder clip. Pulling the bundle out of the envelope revealed it to be a neat collection of hundred-dollar bills, and if Jessica’s quick tally was right, she was looking at about five grand. Jessica nodded approvingly before she stuffed the bundle back into the envelope and out of public eye. It was enough to pay rent and make sure she didn’t go into withdrawal this month.
“You’ll get another five thousand at the completion of the job with room for potential bonuses.” Kim replied still looking at the outgoing tide.
“Is this excursion taxpayer funded?” asked Jessica.
“That would leave a paper trail.” Kim pointed out and didn’t need to elaborate more than that.
“Last question,” Jessica asked as she ran her free hand through her hair “when do I start?”
Last question,” Jessica asked as she ran her free hand through her hair. “when do I start?”
C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L
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J E S S I C A C A M P B E L L J O N E S ♦ F U N C T I O N A L A L C O H O L I C ♦ N E W Y O R K, N E W Y O R K ♦ A L I A S I N V E S T I G A T I O N S
C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:
"I told you when you hired me-- These things-- These things rarely end well. "
Well, except for some tweaking of the backstory this is the general run-of-the-mill Jessica. Namely she didn’t get hospitalized by the Avengers during her time with Kilgrave for obvious reason. I recently rewatched You Were Never Really Here and had a chance to play Disco Elysium, so I’ve been thinking a lot about Trauma lately and its relation to the thriller/detective genre. I guess, fundamentally the biggest thing I went to do with Jessica is explore that trauma. As someone who personally deals with Post Traumatic Stress Order for reasons not unlike Jessica’s and who ended up coping with it in similar ways for a long while, so the idea speaks to me in a real core way. (Write what you know and all that, I guess.) Jessica is going to be struggling and I’ll put content warning stuff out there right now about things like self-harm and suicide if people would rather want to avoid that. I don’t want to glorify trauma in anyway, but I also don’t want to pull any punches either and I feel that the identity at the core of Jessica is good at handling that. I also want to juxtapose this core idea of trauma and helplessness with another about control and how those in power manifest different kinds of control. To that end, I want to take Jessica out of New York’s mean streets and into its penthouses with me also taking inspiration from a lot of Gibson’s post-cyberpunk works especially the “Bigend cycle”.
C H A R A C T E R M O T I V A T I O N S & G O A L S:
To quote the youtuber Screened on his piece about You Were Never Really Here "This is a Story of an Exhausted Woman... trying to find a Reason to Stay." Jessica Jones is a broken woman. She spends almost all the money she makes on her alcoholism and she tries to kill herself at least once a week. The unaddressed trauma of her life, particularly the death of her family and a horrid encounter with Kilgrave early in her detective career has left in dire straits in terms of her mental health. But even though Jones is broken she is still a strong woman both literally due to her super strength and metaphorically due to her tenacity. Jessica throws herself completely at her detective work in order to avoid her own problems. As a result, Alias Investigations has a growing reputation for its track record and more and more powerful people have begun to ask after Jessica. This season will primarily follow Jessica as she is dunked headfirst into the darker side of New York’s rich and famous and how she deals with it. I also aim to focus on more smaller vignettes this time around guided by an overarching plot instead of doing the usually long-form style that I usually work with.
C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:
Supporting Characters:
Detective Zoe Kim - Contact for Jessica in the NYPD.
Patsy Walker - an old friend of Jessica's and secretly the vigilante known as Hellcat.
Mercedes "Misty" Knight - Owner of Knightwing Restorations Ltd, a security consulting firm with her partner
Colleen Wing. Knight was a cop who turned P.I during New York's crime boom in the 1980s due to her disillusionment with the force. Serves as an impromptu mentor to Jessica from time to time.
Mohsin Chadha - NYC'S Commissioner for Cultural Affairs and rising up and comer in the Democratic Party. Hired Jessica to find his daughter Sahiba who has gone missing.
Kilgrave - The one they call the purple man. Used his mind control powers to make Jessica his own personal slave for the better half of a year without her even knowing.
Detective Zoe Kim - Contact for Jessica in the NYPD.
Patsy Walker - an old friend of Jessica's and secretly the vigilante known as Hellcat.
Mercedes "Misty" Knight - Owner of Knightwing Restorations Ltd, a security consulting firm with her partner
Colleen Wing. Knight was a cop who turned P.I during New York's crime boom in the 1980s due to her disillusionment with the force. Serves as an impromptu mentor to Jessica from time to time.
Mohsin Chadha - NYC'S Commissioner for Cultural Affairs and rising up and comer in the Democratic Party. Hired Jessica to find his daughter Sahiba who has gone missing.
Kilgrave - The one they call the purple man. Used his mind control powers to make Jessica his own personal slave for the better half of a year without her even knowing.
S A M P L E P O S T:
The last few nights had been hard on Jessica Jones. Sleep avoided her like the plague replaced only with waking hallucinations that felt more real than anything else she had felt for the last three days. Whenever she closed her eyes to try and sleep, she saw the color purple and heard laughing. That laughing followed her everywhere: at the grocery store, on her daily run, and especially in the shower. Getting rid of the bathroom mirror by putting a fist sized hole through it had helped initially, but the laughter crept back into her head soon enough. She finished all the booze she had, and then she spent the last of her tucked away rent money stuffed underneath her mattress on more. The booze didn’t even help her sleep anymore, but it still thankfully worked as a mental anesthetic. But now even that booze was running low and she feared that a dry spell would send her over the edge. That’s why when Jessica got a text from an old friend to meet her on the Coney Island Boardwalk, she jumped at the opportunity and took the Q as far as it would take her.
________________________________________
Jessica flicked her lighter on and off. It was a tick that she did when she was anxious, agitated, or waiting like she was now. She cupped the flame with her free hand to shield it from the sea breeze that habituated the boardwalk. Sitting there with the fur lined collar of her trucker jacket pulled up against her neck making it look like a priest’s habit, Jessica couldn't help but feel like she belonged in a Tarkovsky film. Unfortunately, the mere mention of Tarkovsky triggered a primordial gag reflex in her. She dated a film critic once and they collectively decided to do a marathon viewing of the Russian's work while slamming down several bottles of $15 Georgian vodka; she vomited for a week after that. Now the mere mention of Avant Garde Slavic filmmakers made her stomach do somersaults.
"Stomach disagreeing with you?"
Detective Zoe Kim sat down next to her. A solid streak of grey hair along her left temple made her look older than her mid-thirties. Dressed in all black with a matching leather jacket torn at the left shoulder and patched with duct tape, Zoe looked more like Lou Reed than a cop. But, the way she walked, like she owned the city, like she knew it like the back of her hand could have only been acquired by someone who had walked the beat.
"Cause you look like you're about to throw up your lunch Jones."
"Shut it Kim," Jessica croaked forcing down a rising current of bile. "it's just a psychological reaction."
"Sure looks like a psychological reaction," Kim replied with a shake of her head. "you mind if I borrow a light?"
Jessica raised the open flame of her lighter to a cigarette that Kim produced from her jacket pocket. There was a slight tremble in Kim's outreached hand that neither of them commented on. Permanent nerve damage that occurred on the pair's first outing. Kim took a bullet for her before she knew about the whole gene altering chemicals deal. The bullet luckily didn't go anywhere lethal, but it did fuck with the nerves in her left arm. After that she was shifted up the chain of command where she found detectives spend a lot more time sitting behind a desk than doing actual police work.
"You know," started Kim as she exhaled a cloud of smoke. "this was the first place I saw someone die? I was 13 down at the amusement park and this kid had just won a big stuffed polar bear to impress a girl. It was one of those big bears holding a heart, real sappy shit. Turns out though the girl's boyfriend wasn't moved by the suitor's advances and he drove a knife between the kid's ribs. The bear didn't stay too white after that."
"Love hurts." summarized Jessica with a shrug as she stashed her lighter away.
"Ain't that the truth," replied Kim with a philosopher's solemn nod. "though I suppose I didn't call you here to bitch about my childhood trauma."
"Yeah," replied Jessica. "you usually only do that when you're drunk."
"Haha," Kim answered in a dead monotone. "you know I can always offer this gig to somebody else."
"You'll be hard fucking pressed finding somebody better than me."
Silently conceding to Jessica's point, Kim withdrew a Manila folder from inside her jacket pocket and handed it over without comment. The first thing Jessica noticed was the word CONFIDENTIAL written in red permanent marker across the width of the folder. The second thing Jessica noticed was that the folder was very light which signaled to her that the case was either very old or very new, and judging by the fresh marker smell she suspected it was the latter. Jessica reached into the folder and in her digging she caught the edge of something smooth which she withdrew from the envelope.
It was a 4x12 print of a girl standing in front of the library at Bryant park. She was dressed stylishly in the latest trends and with long black hair that fell to about her waist. Young adult in her early twenties, judging by the cut of her clothes came from a wealthy family, and if Jessica had to guess probably Pakistani or Indian. She looked happy, but if she was happy then Jessica wouldn’t have to get involved.
“Who is she?” asked Jessica as she peered closer at the photo as if some hidden secrets would reveal themselves to her.
“Sahiba Chadha,” Kim stated as she ground the stub of her cigarette out into the bench they were sitting on. “senior at Columbia, studies Sociology, wants to pursue her PhD, and the daughter of the current Commissioner of Cultural Affairs - Mohsin Chadha.”
“And what’s wrong with her?”
“She’s been missing for a week now.”
“Are you and the good old boys in blue looking into it?” questioned Jessica.
“No investigation has been opened up, and I should let you know Jones,” answered Kim “this call comes straight from the Mayor’s office.”
Jessica raised a brow. She knew that soon after Kim got promoted the Mayor’s office had reached out to her to perform some consulting, but she hadn’t realized Kim had become the Mayor’s hand in the force. It was something that Jessica could never do, she hated politics with a passion and tried her best to keep a respectable distance from any governmental office. But Kim had rent to pay like anyone else and Jessica figured it helped having friends in high places.
“What’s the Mayor’s office have to do with this?” Jessica asked as she slotted the photo back into the envelope.
“Mohsin Chadha is the man that the establishment is grooming to be the next Mayor. A big enough scandal could bring down a mayoral race before it even starts. So, the powers that be want to do everything in their power to solve this problem before the press get their hands on it. So that means no NYPD, and especially no official investigations.”
“Only little old me,” finished Jessica “I hope the “establishment” knows that I don’t come cheap.”
“Check the bottom of the bag.” replied Kim who by this point had turned her gaze away from her companion and towards the water.
Jessica reached further down and felt her hands brush up against a small bundle held together by a binder clip. Pulling the bundle out of the envelope revealed it to be a neat collection of hundred-dollar bills, and if Jessica’s quick tally was right, she was looking at about five grand. Jessica nodded approvingly before she stuffed the bundle back into the envelope and out of public eye. It was enough to pay rent and make sure she didn’t go into withdrawal this month.
“You’ll get another five thousand at the completion of the job with room for potential bonuses.” Kim replied still looking at the outgoing tide.
“Is this excursion taxpayer funded?” asked Jessica.
“That would leave a paper trail.” Kim pointed out and didn’t need to elaborate more than that.
“Last question,” Jessica asked as she ran her free hand through her hair “when do I start?”
Last question,” Jessica asked as she ran her free hand through her hair. “when do I start?”
P O S T C A T A L O G:
n/a
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