Michael Morbuius ♦ Forensic Consultant♦ Brownsville, Brooklyn ♦
C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:
"I was a man who sought to cure death. Now I am something far worse."
Morbius exists in a unique space between hero, antihero, and outright horror and as a result rubs a lot of heroes the wrong way, especially those he has come into contact with early into his afflication like Blade or Spider-Man. He is trying to prove himself as a changed man, but altering this image is proving far harder than he wishes.
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:
I believe that Morbius is a very underrated character within Marvel and there are many stories that can be told from the perspective of a cursed man trying to do good while battling with an afflication that forces him to do bad to survive. I'd love to explore stories surrounding him being involved in the wider hero community and turning their opinion around on him from believing he is a villanous monster into seeing him as a tragic figure who is trying, despite everything, to fight for the right cause.
A throughline of his story would be his desire to cure himself of his Vampyrism. While he fights for good with the power he now has, he'd much prefer to revert back to how he was before. I'm especially interested in exploring his approach to crime fighting in relation to other heroes. He fights in part to sustain himself with blood, and his methods may be darker than most would be comfortable with. His battles may be in part against mobsters, traffickers, and the like, but he could also have an angle to fight monsters lurking in the city's darkest corners. He doesn't have the luxury of being seen as a hero, and I want to play with the tension of whether New York will ever accept him or if he'll even let himself be accepted.
C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:
Abilities
Pseudovampirism – Morbius is a living vampire, possessing enhanced strength, speed, reflexes, and healing. However, he is not undead and posseses few of the weaknesses a regular vampire has.
Blood Dependency – He must consume blood to survive. Animal blood sustains him, but human blood is far more potent. The longer he starves, the less control he has.
Echolocation & Night Vision – His senses are adapted for hunting in darkness. He can "see" heartbeats, track movement, and detect fear.
Psionic Gliding - Morbius lacks true flight but through a combination of his hollow bones and mental powers he is able to glide for long distances.
Hypnotic Influence – Not true mind control, but he can hypontise those who look directly into his eyes for long enough. He can strongly input suggestion into their heads and the victim is likely to follow their command dependant on how strong their willpower is.
Skills
Genius Intellect - Previous to becoming the living vampire, Michael Morbius was a brilliant Nobel-Prize winning scientist with a speciality in biochemistry and more specifically hematology.
Hand-To-Hand Combat - Though not a trained martial artist, Morbius is a ferocious and instinctual fighter, using his inhuman agility, strength, and claws to overwhelm opponents. When in control, he fights tactically, using his environment and speed to his advantage. When starving or enraged, he becomes far more unpredictable, relying on raw power and brutal attacks.
Enemies
Madame Masque (Whitney Frost)
The Rose (Richard Fisk)
Basilisk (Wayne Gifford)
Hunger (Loxias Crown)
Doctor Paine
Kingpin (Wilson Fisk)
Allies
Dr. Jacob Weisenthal – One of the few people Morbius truly trusts, Dr. Weisenthal is a fellow scientist who has dedicated himself to finding a cure for Morbius' condition. He serves as a confidant and occasional benefactor, providing Morbius with medical assistance, research, and a rare sense of human connection. Without Weisenthal's help, Morbius would have little hope of ever reversing his affliction.
Martine Bancroft - Morbius' former fiancee and one of the most tragic figures in his life. Once deeply in love, Martine stood by him even after his transformation, desperately searching for a cure alongside him. However, their relationship became strained as Morbius' condition worsened, and was ultimately nullified the night he became the living vampire and fed on her. She is unaware if he is alive or dead at the moment, but still searches for any trace of him.
Blade – The Daywalker has hunted Morbius more than once, viewing him as another creature of the night to be put down. But over time, their relationship has grown more complex. While Blade still doesn't fully trust him, the two have fought side by side against greater supernatural threats.
Spider-Man – Peter Parker has often found himself at odds with Morbius, viewing him as a tragic yet dangerous figure. They have clashed repeatedly, but Spider-Man has also tried to help him, believing there is still good in him. Morbius, in turn, sees Spider-Man as a persistent obstacle but, deep down, acknowledges that Peter’s unwavering morality is something he envies.
S A M P L E P O S T:
The hunger called to him like instinct. It felt like more than an urge, more than the feeling an alcoholic gets at seeing an open bottle, this felt like second nature. Like his body was screaming at him for blood. And yet he resisted, despite everything telling him otherwise he resisted.
Morbius perched on the rooftop of a tenement building, staring down at the alley below. His claws dug into the crumbling brickwork, body tense, motionless, like a stone gargoyle watching over the worst part of town. He didn't need his echolocation to hear the struggle unfolding beneath him. The stench of sweat, fear, and fresh blood already told him everything.
A woman in the alley below, late twenties, cornered with her pulse racing. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her wide eyes darting for any escape, but the walls of the alley seemed to only close in around her. She clutched her handbag to her chest, her knuckles turning white. The copper scent of fresh blood reached Morbius' nostrils. She had been cut, not deeply, but enough to panic her, enough to fill the air with the sweet, sickening perfume that made his fangs ache.
Morbius leapt down from the rooftop behind her assailant in a soundless blur. His feet making no noise as he gently landed behind the hooded figure holding the switchblade, stretching out behind him almost entirely in black like a shadow. He glided over to the mugger, practically already tasting the sweet nectar of his blood as his fangs grew and his claw outstretched. The woman's eyes caught Morbius' own crimson pair, burning with desire. The woman gasped, she would have screamed had her breath not caught in her throat at the sight of the man.
The mugger quickly spun, and for a moment he froze, the weight of the inhuman visage before him rooting him to the ground. Then, instinct took over. He slashed out with the knife in a desperate attempt to kill the monster before him.
Morbius caught his wrist mid swing. His grip was like a vice as he raised his arm, pulling the mugger off the ground, dangling within his grasp. Panic surged through the criminal, his eyes glancing left and right as he squeeked out a desperate request. "L-let me go, man!"
Morbius glanced up, using his other hand to quickly pull back the hood to reveal the muggers youthful appearance. He was just a kid. He could feel a wave of disappointment crash through him. This was par for the course in Brownsville, kids turning to crime and becoming adults in jail. He let out a sigh before letting him drop to the floor.
"Run."
The boy hesitated for only a second before scrambling out of there, dropping the knife as he stumbled backward. His sneakers scraped against the pavement as he bolted into the night, his panicked footfalls echoing down the alley.
The woman remained, still trembling, still clutching her bag. She had every right to run, to scream, to assume he was worse than the mugger who had just fled. Instead, she stared at him, a mixture of confusion and fear staining her face as she glanced to and from his pale, gaunt face.
Morbius turned away, stepping back into the shadows as his form melted into the darkness. The night would claim him once more.
The hunger was still there, clawing at his insides. But for tonight, at least, he had chosen not to feed.
Matthew M. Murdock ♦ Defense Attorney, Private Practice ♦ Hell's Kitchen, NYC, NY
C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:
"For we walk by faith, not by sight." 2nd Corinthians, 5:7
Blinded in an accident as a child, Matt Murdock developed superhuman senses that allowed him to function with keen skills and reflexes. But when his father was murdered by a low-level gangster for refusing to throw a boxing match, Murdock's gifts were tempered by rage and a need to fight injustice. Studying law per his late father's wishes, Matt passed the bar and joined his best friend Franklin "Foggy" Nelson in opening a defense firm for the downtrodden in Hell's Kitchen, New York. Unable to quell his need to fight criminals, Matt also began operating as a masked vigilante by night - gradually shaping himself from an anonymous warrior into a figure to be feared by the underworld. Adopting the guise of the devil himself, Murdock became The Man Without Fear... Daredevil.
Both within his masked identity and outside of it, Murdock's amassed a wealth of enemies over the ten years he's been in operation, from the bloodthirsty Owl and disturbed Purple Man to the deadly assassin Bullseye. But one figure stands high above the rest as a foe in Murdock's contention: Wilson Fisk, The Kingpin of New York. Throughout their storied rivalry, Murdock and Fisk have been locked in a moral chess battle as Daredevil tirelessly works to dismantle The Kingpin's seemingly insurmountable empire. Fisk has in turn frequently targeted Murdock's loved ones and tried to destroy his life from every level systematically. Murdock has risen above every attempt much stronger, ready to fight another day, but the result has often been a stalemate that sees no certain end.
For now, they're forced to co-exist. Fisk knows Daredevil's true identity, while Murdock is slowly gathering evidence against Kingpin, unable to make a definitive move without jeopardizing everyone in his life. It's a cycle that has been simmering for years and is likely to reach it's boiling point soon - both are simply awaiting the first move.
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:
As a fan, I've read every Daredevil run in the comics since the early 2000's - some as recently as this week, others in my early teens. Despite being a popular character, he still feels like an unsung gem in the superhero pantheon for his catalogue of stories without any real dips in quality. So there's alot of material to pay homage to, which is what I intend to do in this game: tell a story of this seasoned crimefighter, with a rich history behind him, at a crossroads with an enemy he's never been able to master. Whether that's The Kingpin or his own soul is another question entirely.
C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:
The accident that blinded him gave him complete mastery over his remaining senses. With training from a mysterious warrior named Stick, he combined a formidable prowess in combat with the ability to focus his senses into an inner radar, feeding him information about the world around him that few would be able to percieve.
His notable enemies besides Kingpin include The Owl, Typhoid Mary, the ninja cult known as The Hand, The Gladiator, and especially Bullseye, who murdered both Elektra Natchios and Karen Page, Matt's greatest loves. Elektra eventually returned through ritual magic - Karen didn't, and the five years since have remained bitter for it.
His truly close allies at this point consist only of Franklin "Foggy" Nelson, his long-term business partner, and Sister Maggie, his formerly estranged mother. The relationship with both is complicated, as Matt's personal relationships always tend to be.
S A M P L E P O S T:
Twenty blocks.
That had always been deeply overwhelming to him. Even as a young boy, before that life-altering accident had changed everything, he would look at the perpetual sea of buildings ahead of him and quietly marvel at the impossible scope. His mind would race ahead of his eyes and try to place a story to as many of them as he could - and within his limited imagination, some of the buildings housed just everyday people, others were home to cops and firefighters. Some of them even housed bad people, who hurt others just for fun. That was the prism from which little Matt Murdock saw the full spectrum of morality. There were the good, normal people, the people of authority, and the bad. The naive kind of thinking that was born out of religiously watching Saturday morning cartoons and being slowly read passages of the Bible by his concussion-addled father. Some days, he still yearned for that innocence.
Others still, like this one, reminded him of a cold hard reality. That there was still a degree of the innocent and the guilty, yes, but that the court of law was always going to favor those who better understood it's fragility over those who didn't. Who could mend and manipulate a set of rules that books and declarations had decided were the cornerstones of society. Whenever Matt had decided to honor his late father's wishes and study law as his major at Columbia University, a large part of his goal in undertaking such a difficult trade was to usefully challenge the ideas of black-and-white that he'd held onto. The kind that told him that because the courts and a judge had decided there was only circumstantial evidence, the murderer of Battlin' Jack Murdock couldn't be held. And that because it was the law, he had to accept that.
He never could. Try as he might, it gnawed at his soul. He'd confessed it to his priest when looking for absolution. He'd alluded to it in discussions with his best friend, the man who would become his law partner, when looking for rationality. He even had long, drawn-out arguments within the confines of his own mind when looking to talk himself out of doing something stupid with his life. And yet when push came to shove, he readily - easily - chose the path that he'd been looking for every reason to avoid. The path of blood and pain, the road of darkness and suffering. The place that would continually break him down until, Murdock feared, there'd be nothing left. Because there was no other choice. Because at the end of the day, no matter how many years had passed - no matter the contradictory fact that his sight had long since been taken from him - he was still gazing up at an unforgiving sea of twenty blocks ahead. Trying to discern which parts of them were safe and needed saving.
Which was why he found himself on a rooftop at four in the morning. For weeks, he'd been working a tenement case involving a landlord that had steadily increased rent to a couple of Hispanic descent. The man had given them every excuse in the book - that they were late with payments in the past, that their credit was declining, that a filing error had led to an overcharge. All of it was a series of lies, and the burden of proof had been on Matt to contextualize why the landlord in question, who had a history of suing tenants out of their savings with the interesting pattern of none of the defendants being white, could easily be countersued for perjury if his clients had the money to facilitate it.
An open and shut case. In law, the approximate number of those wasn't easy to determine. Had Matt wanted to wager a guess, he'd have gone for thirty percent. But this case qualified, and he felt like if this were under normal circumstances, the nature of the case's transparency could allow him to breathe easy. Yet right now he found himself somersaulting over ledges, swinging across increasingly wide gaps, feeling the brittle cold air sink into his skin like sulfuric acid eating through a wall. He wasn't just stressed about the case, he was so stressed about it that he'd gotten out of bed the night before the court date to put on a crimson blanket of armor and wade through twenty-degree winds at high speed - anything to distract himself.
Then he heard it. About seven stories below him. Hard for him to single out the noise in between a bevy of ringing phones, car horns and tires squeaking across the pavement from blocks away, and voices from every direction, but his ears always perked up whenever he heard this distinct noise: bones crunching into bones. Someone was viciously beating into someone else, and the faint scent of copper filled his nostrils the second that he turned his head.
Spilled blood.
"---gonna teach you to come into this neighborhood. This is my turf, you hear?! You hear me, you stinkin'---"
Matt's fist clenched tightly around the billy club. The aggressor's voice was the loudest, but he could also hear muffled cries. Whispers, telling someone else to "keep quiet" if they "wanted to walk away". It was all that he'd needed to hear to transition his trajectory downward. He'd wanted a distraction, and an assault in progress had made him curse that desire. Because he knew that right now, the boy who'd seen the world in black-and-white would have to step aside.
Clinton Francis "Clint" Barton ♦ Ex-Avenger ♦ Bedford-Stuyvesant, Brooklyn, New York City
C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:
"Okay..." "This looks bad."
A carnie-turn-vigilante, Clint Barton was a criminal from a broken home before the intervention of Tony Stark and Natasha Romanoff. Given a second chance, Hawkeye became perhaps the most peculiar member of the Avengers - one with no superhuman abilities or equipment. Armed chiefly with nothing more than a bow and arrow, Hawkeye made a name for himself as an ordinary human fighting in league with gods and monsters. He's been a member of the core team, a West Coast Avenger, a Secret Avenger, and a Thunderbolt. He's been Hawkeye, Ronin, and Goliath. He's had as many ill-fated love affairs as he's had bloodbound nemeses. But none of this storied history matters to the decidedly mortal Clint Barton now.
His own mundanity has caught up with him. Profoundly deaf in one ear, and partially deaf in another, he came to a mutual agreement with the Avengers to leave the team. There was arguing - mostly from his teammates - but in his mind, the world has quickly begun to outpace him. Clint is getting older, and mankind's many common enemies seem to be sharper and more powerful by the day. If even the mighty Thor and incredible Hulk can be brought to their knees by these terrible foes, what's a deaf guy with a bow going to do about it?
Henceforth, Hawkeye is now the civilian Clint Barton. He's not a superhero, and he sure as hell isn't an Avenger anymore. The closest he gets to superherodom is taking a look at leaks and faulty TV dishes for the good people in his apartment building.
However tempting that bow and arrow is.
...Well, maybe just one quick draw of the bowstring for old times' sake...
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:
My goal is to tell a deeply personal, character-driven story about depression, imposter syndrome, and the power an ordinary person has to change the world around them for the better.
I do not intend to belittle, mock, or make a joke out of the character of Hawkeye. I think, especially in Fraction's run, that Clint is a deeply compelling character, and the fact that he shines in a world flush with wacky superheroes and larger than life, ostentatious personas is a testament to that. He's a human, like any of us: He bleeds like a human, but he fights like a human. He faces a world much bigger than him, filled with danger and wonder and terror, like we all do, and chooses to stand up to it.
Clint will struggle with feelings of inadequacy and self-loathing throughout his time in Streets of New York, and will hit some low lows, but without a doubt I intend for his story to be an optimistic, humanist one. He will learn the value he has as a person, the value of the connections he forms, and the power he has as an individual - even if he isn't swinging Odin's hammer or building suits of sci-fi armour. Even on the days he doesn't even feel like getting out of bed in the morning - and there will be a lot of those days - he'll struggle against the weight of hopelessness to make sure he does at least one good thing. And if that one good thing happens to be knocking together the heads of some Maggia goons, then so be it.
C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:
► Hawkeye's Bow and Arrow Quiver The signature. Iron Man has his armour, Captain America has his shield, Thor has his hammer. Hawkeye has his bow. A custom-made, heavy-duty compound bow made of reinforced fibreglass. It does exactly what one would expect a bow to do: Insert the business end of an arrow hard and fast into the targeted surface. Where it truly earns a superheroic edge is with Clint's many "trick arrows". For when a regular old arrowhead doesn't do the job, Clint's ingenuity has led to the creation of a variety of specialised arrows for specialised jobs. These include:
► Sonic Arrow:A blunt arrow that unleashes a continuous, blaring, high-pitched squeal upon impact. ► Smokebomb Arrow:A blunt arrow that spews a cloud of thick smoke upon impact. ► Bola Arrow:A tool as old as the bow, the bola is a throwing weapon made of three weights and interconnected cords, which quickly wraps around and ensares a target when thrown. This is that in an arrow. ► Net Arrow:Like the bola arrow, but trades speed and precision for area of effect. An arrow that releases a ten foot wide cable net from the end of its blunt arrowhead. ► Electric Arrow:An arrow equipped with a taser on its blunt arrowhead. ► Flare Arrow:A blunt arrow containing a magnesium compound which ignites on impact. ► Stun Arrow:Continuing the trend of blunt arrowheads, the stun arrow is like an airborne punch. When there cannot be any risk of lethality. ► Boomerang Arrow:A variant of the stun arrow which returns to sender. ► Explosive Arrow:The big one. Highly inadvisable for use in crowded or civilian scenarios. An arrow containing plastic explosive in a blunt arrowhead that detonates on impact. Whereas Hakweye usually carries multiple copies of his trick arrows, he only carries a single explosive arrow. ► Arrow:A not-blunt arrowhead. This one just shoots things.
►Skills and Attributes Naturally, Clint has unparalleled aim. His reflexes, eyesight and hand-to-eye coordination are like nothing else, to say nothing of his proficiency with his tool of choice. His senses are at the height of human ability - he has, in the past, smelled out enemies based on the faintest whiff of incense on them and managed to aim perfectly in the dark. Clint is a master archer, and practices two hours every day to hone and refine his skills.
Clint's level of physical fitness borders on Olympian, keeping his body at the peak of what is possible for an unenhanced human. Of special note is his agility and flexibility, allowing him to perform a variety of stunning acrobatic manoeuvres. He is also a well-trained martial artist, and can hold his own in fistfights. He is proficient with a variety of other weapons, as well - of note is his swordsmanship, which he receieved tutelage in from the legendary Swordsman. He can also make use of improvised weapons, and is capable of throwing small objects like cards and coins at sufficient speeds to act as projectiles.
Clint's proficiency with his hand-to-eye coordination also makes him an excellent pilot and driver.
Clint is profoundly deaf in one ear and partially deaf in the other. Though he uses hearing aids to compensate to some degree, he has learned ASL to communicate where sound fails.
►Dramatis Personae Friends Tony Stark - Billionaire genius behind the Iron Man and founding member of the Avengers. Declined to appear any further when he found out it was street level. Kate Bishop - Also Hawkeye, at times. Massively fumbled by Marvel Boy. Lucky the Pizza Dog - He's Lucky the Pizza Dog. Good friends with Jeff the Land Shark.
Foes Madame Masque - Heiress to Count Nefaria's fortune in Brooklyn. Has an unhealthy fixation with Tony Stark, perhaps because he also at times has a metal face. Kingpin - The self-described head honcho of crime in New York. Has his meaty fingers in every pie in Manhattan, which is a mental image as disturbing as his ruthless tactics. Hammerhead - The (literally) hardheaded bigwig of the underworld in Queens. The Owl - A ruthless crime lord who Clint would contest is not named for his wisdom. The Circus of Crime - The rather uncreatively named criminal circus who dazzle and embezzle their crowd.
S A M P L E P O S T:
"Clint - New model to send you off. All the best - you know where to find me." - Tony Clint slid the business end of the butterknife across the thin strip of tape holding the package shut. It didn't come away easy. There was a bit of yanking involved, maybe some wrenching. It wasn't pretty. But eventually, cardboard gave way to Clint, and out sprang the goods from their tightly sealed tomb. Two matching purple hearing aids, wrapped in clear plastic and nestled in a bed of bubble wrap. He took the plastic in his hand, which mercifully tore open with far less effort required. One had an L on the inside for left - the other an R, for right. They slipped over his ears with ease, given they'd been built with his measurements in mind. Two receivers fit snugly inside.
With them both in place, Clint held his breath. He couldn't immediately hear anything new. Nothing had begun to make a noise since his hearing had started to go downhill, which was a good sign. He didn't wanna have to go forking out for a new fridge, or to fix a rattling pipe. "Not so bad-" He caught himself. Wow, that was loud. Was that the volume he always murmured to himself at? That was useless. That wasn't a murmur. That was a proclamation. Geez, that was awkward. All the times he was sure he'd silently muttered something under his breath only to get a wicked death stare suddenly made sense. He'd lost track of the proper volume to speak and whisper at, after all this time.
"All units be advised, 211 in progress on Monroe Street..."
One sound he didn't think he'd hear again. Have to hear again, more like. He thought he'd tossed that police scanner last week.
And another sound, this one more chilling. A quaint midi-recreation of AC/DC's seminal rock hit Back in Black, the ringtone Tony had set for himself when he had set up Clint's phone for him. That same phone buzzed ominously on the countertop, compelling Clint to pick it up and swipe to accept the call. An action he found himself carrying out despite his overwhelming urge to avoid conversation with everyone in particular today.
"Hey, Clint. Hear me alright?" "Hey, Tony. Yeah, I can hear you. Uh...Thanks." Clint shuffled over to the kitchen window, leaning against the radiator beneath the sill for some heat in the chilly morning. "Don't mention it. Medical tech is great press. Listen..." Clint grimaced, knowing what was coming next. "You just wanted to see how things are going?" "...More or less. Cap is, uh...Well, legally I'm not allowed to tell you what Cap's doing right now, but either way, he can't come ot the phone. Wanted me to drop you a line." "Thanks to Cap, then." Deciding he was probably gloomy enough for the rest of the room, Clint tugged at the curtains to let a bit of sunlight in. "Bad phrasing. I wanted to check in on you too. That was a pretty abrupt exit, even with all the NDAs and paperwork. You're really not coming back, huh?" "No, Tony. It's...My decision, alright?" "Your decision, huh?" Idly, Clint peered out the window at the street below. "Yeah. We're not all made of metal. Sooner or later we've gotta know when to call time." "...Alright. Look, if you need someone to...Y'know, talk to, I know a guy who was a big help to Bruce-" Wait a minute. Was that the goddamn Rhino? Charging down his street with the back of a cash van on his shoulders? Where was Monroe Street, again? "Uh, yeah. Hold that thought. Um. Could you send that to me in a text?" "Uh...Yeah, sure. Look, I might be a little hard to reach for a while-" "Yeah, that's cool. Avengers stuff, right? Classified." Suit, suit, suit. Where was the suit? "Yeah. So if I can do anything for you, now's the time to let me know-" Oh, god. No, no, no. No, that needed to be washed, or else set on fire. Jesus. "A-OK, Tony. Trust me." Bow. Bow under the bed. Always under the bed. Quiver in the closet. Lucky in the middle of the goddamn floor again. "Is someone holding you at gunpoint, Clint? I can hear you sweating." "There's- Uh, I've got...A...Girl. Uh, over." Did his feet somehow get bigger or did these boots somehow shrink? "Oh. Right. Well, I'll leave you two to it. Don't do anything I wouldn't do." "Not really sure what that's excluding me from doing." "Touché. Hey, take care of yourself, right?" "Course. That's the point, Tony." The shirt would have to do. Rhino was breaking his ribs whether or not he wore the whole tactical getup anyways. "See you around, Clint." Yeah, fat chance.
Fire escape would be quicker. Bursting out the door and onto the grating, he couldn't stop to chat with any of the neighbours watching the carnage unfold.
"Hey, it's-" "Yeah, I know." "Hawkguy!" Clint sighed.
Owner/Proprietor, Heroes for Hire, Inc. ♦ Harlem, Manhattan, NYC
C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:
"All right, how many of y’all are tired of your teeth?"
Once upon a time in Harlem, a punk kid named Carl Lucas ran with a bad crowd. Betrayed by his former best friend and sent to do hard time for a crime he didn’t commit, Lucas’s story would have been headed for an unhappy ending, until he volunteered for a secret experiment that gave him superhuman strength and unbreakable skin. Adopting a new name, the man now called Luke Cage learned he liked helping people a lot more than hurting them– especially when he learned he could pay the bills doing it.
Since going into business for himself as a Hero for Hire, Luke has done a lot, been a lot, and been through a lot. He’s been slandered by the media and hounded by crooked cops. He’s fought with and against the most powerful people in the world. He’s stood up against the might of the government, and he’s dished out a beating to Doctor Doom for stiffing him for $200. He’s been a Defender, an Avenger, a New Avenger, a member of the Fantastic Four, and even spent a little time as the Mayor of New York. More than any of those titles, though, the ones he’s most proud of are the title of husband and father.
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:
Luke’s a really great all-rounder character, who can plug into any kind of story, fight, or team-up and never feel out of place. He can be funny, he can be serious, he can be a warm-hearted softie or an ice-cold badass. And best of all, the Heroes for Hire business means he can be up for pretty much any possible encounter and always have it make sense for him to be there. And while I don’t think a middle-aged pasty white guy like myself should be dipping too much into his jive-talking soul-brother persona from the early years, the modern Luke still has an undeniable charisma that makes him immediately likeable.
To that end, I’m planning on having Luke be a solid utility player, adding both his muscle and his force of personality wherever it’s needed. Want to bust a drug den and crack some skulls? He’s there. Need to protect a tenement house from a crooked politician? Happy to lend a hand. Want to put out a fire, take down a crime boss, slug it out with a rampaging villain, or pull a cat out of a tree? If you’ve got the bills, he’s got the skills.
C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:
Powers and Abilities:
Superhuman Strength: Luke’s muscles are far more powerful than a normal human. On a good day, he can lift over 25 tons, and punch through up to 4 inches of solid steel. With enough effort, he can throw a punch hard enough to knock out the likes of Rhino, though he’d risk hurting himself to do it.
Extreme Durability: Cage’s extremely dense muscles and bones, combined with skin stronger than steel, make him incredibly resilient against most forms of harm. Point-blank gunfire leaves little more than a bruise on him, he can withstand forces up to 150 pounds of TNT without serious injury, and he is impervious to extreme temperatures or electrical shocks. He’s far from indestructible, however, as Luke is still vulnerable to internal injuries and poisons, and he can still be cut or pierced by exotic weapons like high-powered lasers or blades made of Adamantium.
Accelerated Healing: While nowhere near as powerful as Wolverine or Deadpool’s Healing Factors, Luke’s cells regenerate several times faster than an average human, letting him recover in a few days from damage that would take most people weeks or months. However, while his healing is rapid, it doesn’t extend to permanent damage like lost limbs, spinal trauma, or brain injury.
Hand to Hand Combat: Between his upbringing fighting on the streets, his extensive training with the master martial artist Iron Fist, and his years of on-the-job experience as a hero, Cage is an extremely skilled fighter, knowing how to leverage his strength and the environment around him to fight opponents far more powerful than him.
Intelligence: Luke isn’t anywhere near the level of a Reed Richards, a Tony Stark, or a Peter Parker in terms of scientific genius, but he’s still far smarter than many give him credit for. Cage is a skilled detective, a self-taught legal expert, and speaks several languages.
Allies and Supporting Characters:
Jessica Jones: A flying, super-strong detective, Luke's wife and better half. (Details can be filled in by anyone who wishes to play as her).
Danielle Cage: Luke and Jessica's daughter, Danielle is the best thing that ever happened to Luke.
Danny Rand/Iron Fist: Master martial artist, CEO of Rand Enterprises, and Luke's long-time business partner and best friend. (Details can be filled in by anyone who wishes to play as him).
Claire Temple: One of Luke's (many) old flames, Claire is a doctor who inadvertently found herself secretly treating injured superheroes under the alias "Night Nurse," one of several doctors who have used that codename to protect their identity.
D.W. Griffith: An amateur filmmaker and excitable fan of Cage, D.W. often acts as Luke's eyes and ears in the neighborhood, catching (and usually filming) things that other people might miss.
Enemies:
Diamondback: Willis Stryker, Luke's best friend in his previous life, who betrayed and framed Carl Lucas over the love of a woman. Since then, Stryker emerged as a ruthless arms dealer and killer. Since learning that the hero Luke Cage was his old friend Carl Lucas, Diamondback has had an vengeful obsession with him.
Bushmaster: John McIver, a manipulative crime boss from Jamaica with designs on expanding into America, who uses experimental drugs to enhance his own strength and speed to be more than a match for Cage hand-to-hand.
Cottonmouth: Cornell Stokes, a vicious drug dealer and leader of the Stokes Crime Family, who is a master of various poisons and has sharpened fangs capable of piercing Cage's skin.
Black Mariah: A morbidly obese woman who has run multiple small-time criminal rackets in Harlem, and whose considerable mass lets her throw down with Cage and other super-strong heroes.
Chemistro: Curtis Carr, a vengeful inventor with an 'Alchemy Gun' that allows him to transmute matter.
Gideon Mace: A crazed ultra-nationalist whose arm has been replaced with a cybernetic mace.
Big Ben Donovan: A corrupt lawyer who makes his fortune representing criminals and supervillains.
The Purple Man: Zebediah Killgrave, a powerful psychic who has stalked and tormented Luke's wife Jessica for much of her life.
S A M P L E P O S T:
Morningside Park Playground Morningside & 110th St Harlem
”Daddy, daddy!” Danielle calls out from the swingset. ”Watch how high I can go!”
Backing up in the swings so far she has to stand on her tip-toes to stay in the seat, my little girl gets herself ready, then launches herself into a swinging arc that goes nearly up to my shoulders.
”Hey, all right!” I cheer her on, a big grin almost splitting my face in two. ”That’s the highest you’ve gotten! Keep swingin’ like that, you’re gonna have to show Spider-Man how it’s done!”
”I heard Spider-Man has terrible technique,” Danielle says as she swings back and forth.
”And who told you that?”
”Uncle Danny,” she answers.
I roll my eyes. ”Yeah, that’s about right. Everybody’s got terrible technique to Uncle Danny.”
”Even you?”
”Especially me,” I chuckle. ”Your daddy can take on any bad guy in this town, but I move like a bull in a–”
A car parked along the curb catches my eye. An old blue Caddy with tinted windows, that looks a little too familiar.
”Awww, ff–....fiddle-faddle,” I catch myself, trying not to swear in front of Danielle. ”Hey baby girl, go play with Mommy for a second. Show her what you can do on the jungle gym, okay?”
”Is something wrong?” she asks.
”Nawww, everything’s good,” I reassure her, ”just gotta take care of some grown-up things for a second.”
Danielle shrugs, and runs over to the bench where Jessica is talking to a client on the phone. Once she’s with her mom, I walk over to the parking lot, approaching the Caddy.
As soon as the windows roll down, I see two familiar faces, and feel a little bit of bile in the back of my throat.
Not wanting to cause a scene, I put on a big friendly smile.
”Shades, Comanche!” I call out as I approach the two thugs in the car. ”Long time no see, am I right?”
I put my hand on the hood of the car, just over the fender. These two jokers used to run with my back during the bad old days, when I was with the Rivals. I straightened out. They never did.
”Hey look, Cage,” Shades starts, ”We’re here to–”
”I wanna show you two somethin,” I cut them off, pulling out my phone. ”See this? I’m tryin’ to take the whole Heroes-for-Hire thing and make it digital. Make an app out of it, like a super-hero version of Uber. Someone’s in trouble, they open up the app, and the nearest H4H hero shows up. Learned how to program the whole thing myself. Pretty cool, huh?”
”Uhh, I guess,” Comanche shrugs, ”But we ain’t here to–”
”See, I always thought workin’ with computers was all over my head,” I continue, leaning on the fender of the Caddy to keep them from driving away, ”Programming seemed too complicated. But I called up our boy Gadget, and he broke it down for me nice and easy. See, he says computer logic is all about ‘if/then’ statements. If I tap this button, then this page opens. If I select this option, then this menu drops down.”
They both nod nervously.
”An’ I got the hang of it so well, I started using that kinda logic in my day to day life,” I keep going. ”If my girl finishes her chores for the day, then we go play in the park. If my wife is having a bad day, then I do something romantic for her…”
My warm, friendly smile drops away.
”And if I catch your sorry, low-down, good-for-nothing selves skulkin’ around my neighborhood, rollin’ up on my little girl….then I shove my foot so far up your ass that you’ll be flossin’ your teeth with my shoelaces.”
I reach in through the driver’s side window and pull Shades out from his seat, lifting him up into the air.
”Where are we, Shades?”
”W-we’re in y-your n-neighborhood…” he sputters.
”And who’s that adorable little bug on the jungle gym?”
”Th-th-that’s–”
”That’s my little girl, yeah,” I answer for him. ”So that covers the if. Which means we’re ‘bout to move on to then. I’m about to get logical on your ass, you feel me?”
”Wait wait waitwaitwait, Cage, hold up!” Comanche says. ”It ain’t like that, man! We’re not here to jump you!”
He fumbles around in the back seat of the car, finding a duffel bag. He unzips the bag, showing it to be filled with money.
”We’re here to hire you,” he explains.
”We need help, man,” Shades pleads. ”An’ you’re the only guy we know we can trust.”
I look at Comanche, then to Shades, then to the money, then back over my shoulder to Danielle, who’s waving to me from the top of the jungle gym…
Jessica Jones ♦ Private Investigator ♦ Harlem, Manhattan, NYC ♦ Alias Investigations
C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:
"Have you ever been kicked in the nuts by a superhero?"
Young Jessica lost her parents and younger brother in a tragic accident that had her drenched in unknown chemicals. She awoke and was adopted by a caring family. During her young life she discovered her superhuman abilities. Unsure of herself at first, an accident in her practicing her abilities left her foling an attempted robbery by Scorpion. Relishing the joy of helping others she made it her mission to use her powers for good.
Jessica donned a costume and called herself Jewel. Things were great at first until she ran into Zebediah Killgrave, otherwise known as The Purple Man. Inexperienced, she was taken control of and forced to work for The Purple Man, helping him pull of crimes and attack others. She was held prisoner for months and forced to do hs bidding. An accident after attacking The Scarlet Witch left her injured and in a coma, but she gradually grew free of The Purple Man's influence.
Angry at first, Jessica started up her own private investigation firm, named Alias Investigations, and hung up her metaphorical cape for good. It was here she ran into Luke Cage and grew feelings for him. Though she opted to not be a hero her work became more and more superhero focused as she found herself helping others against villainy. Thankfully her relationship with Luke Cage softened her and she decided to be a help to the city once more.
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:
Jessica Jones is one of my favorite Marvel heroes because she is a badass, take-no-prisoners type. She isn't afraid to punch someone in the face but she is also empathetic and willing to help out, even if it is accompanied with an eye roll. She's tough but has a heart and is willing to help people, especially children and young people, when they need it.
I can see her being a help to others on more than one occasion. Not only as a hero but also in her work as a private investigator. I think she has a nice mix of skills to be able to be a part of many stories as well as come into her own with her work. I think she has grown as a character and with her checkered past it makes it easy to put people in her history in a scene and see what unfolds.
C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:
Powers and Abilities
Superhuman Strength: Jessica is able to go toe-to-toe with the most powerful people and come out without breaking a sweat. She is able to lift at least 10 tons and throw things at considerable distances. Her strength has been able to make dents in strong materials and her fighting has broken more bones than she can count.
Superhuman Durability: Jessica is able to withstand attacks that would be detrimental to the average person. She is able to take blows, though not without injury. She has survived explosions with little more than damage to her wardrobe.
Accelerated Healing Factor: Jessica is able to heal from injuries faster. She is able to heal from a variety of injuries in a quick amount of time, even injuries that would require long hospitalization and downtime.
Flight: Jessica is able to fly and fly very fast. Despite this, Jessica does not fly often unless she has to as she occasionally gets airsick.
Telepathic Resistance: Through her experience with The Purple Man Jessica has built up a mental resistance to telepathic attacks. While not completely invulnerable to them, she is able to withstand most telepathic attacks to her, especially those from The Purple Man.
Investigations: Jessica is a skilled investigator and has closed many cases in her time. Investigations include interrogations, documentation, and searching for clues no matter where.
Skilled Fighter: Jessica has gotten into fights early on in her hero career and her street-fighting has evolved into a more capable hand-to-hand combat style. She is not afraid to throw the first punch if needs be.
Allies and Supporting Characters
Luke Cage: Jessica's super strong and supportive husband and father to their child. He has been a staunch supporter of her and her efforts and she, in turn, helps him out and is there for him
Danielle Cage: Jessica and Luke's daughter and the light of her life. She is a strong reason why Jessica fights; to ensure the world Danielle grows up into is safe
Carol Danvers/Captain Marvel: Jessica has worked alongside Carol at first, the two butting heads before a friendship grew. Carol has called on Jessica's help and vice versa. The two now have a best friendship to the point they rib each other endlessly
Danny Rand/Iron Fist: More her husband's friend, she has worked with him on occasion and enjoys his company (Can add details should anyone play him)
Trish Walker: Jessica's best friend and confidante. A radio talk show host and podcaster, Jessica can often count on Trish to provide sources and help in investigations or if she just needs someone to talk to outside of her husband (Can add details should anyone play her)
Enemies
The Purple Man: Zebediah Killgrave, aka The Purple Man, is someone Jessica has a tense history with due to his control over her and subjected her to commit heinous acts. Since breaking free of him, he is at the top of her list of people she wants to take down
Bushwacker: Carl Burbank, aka Bushwacker, is a mercenary and assassin who can turn his arms into a multitude of projectile weapons. He often targets mutants and has come across Jessica in her work
Denny Haynes: A drug dealer in New York who created a drug using the Mutant Growth Hormone. He has caused countless trouble for Jessica and specifically goes after young mutants
Lone Shark: Lenny Sirkes, aka Lone Shark, is a crooked real estate developer who donned his super suit to scare people in New York and take over their homes for his purposes. He has been stopped by Jessica on more than one occasion
Typhoid Mary: A dangerous criminal with outstanding abilities. Though she has mainly faced off against Daredevil, Jessica has faced her and beat her, which has put a target on her back
S A M P L E P O S T:
The rain pounded against her window. Despite the intensity of the storm outside, it was nothing compared to the storm brewing inside the office of Jessica Jones.
Avery Worth sat at the desk outside of the main office, typing away on her laptop. She did not know what to expect when she signed up to be the receptionist to a superhero turned vigilante turned private investigator turned 'whatever the hell she decides now', but it wasn't boring. She could hear the muffled voices inside the office, the slow ebb and flow of emotions, mainly anger. The client, or soon-to-be-ex-client, had lied about his intentions when asking for Jessica to find his girlfriend. A sob story she took notes for, Mr. Demitri Blanche had bought a mail-order bride on one of those sites you just had to make sure was opened on incognito mode. When his lucky lady came she was less than thrilled to be seen with Demitri. Demitri, whose audacity outshined any of his other attributes, did not take kindly to being told no, especially by a woman, decided to take matters into his own hands, literally.
The lady ran away and rightfully so. However he came to Jessica in the hopes she would find her and ask no questions. Avery shook her head, knowing full well asking questions was what Jessica did best, outside of punching people and making sarcastic remarks.
Avery heard the tell-tale signs and go up from her desk and walked over to the door. She counted to herself. 3.......2......1.....and opened the door just as Demitri was thrown from the room. He landed with a loud thud against the wall, nearly knocking down one of the paintings Avery bought at a thrift store to make the office space more "comfy". Jessica stalked out coming up to Demitri. "Please! I just want.." Jessica cut him off. "You just want what? Your "wife", term loosely used here, back so you can beat her until she's blue again?"
Demitri whimpered, but started standing up. "I paid for her! I'm out thousands of dollar.." his statement was cut short when he felt a leather boot make contact with his manhood. He let out a high pitched wale only heard by the nearby canines and fell to his knees, clutching the only thing he really loved. "I don't care if she has the cure to cancer and the only way to get it is having her suck your johnson, you will not go within 100 feet of her from now on. She's happier than she's ever been and that's because she doesn't have to wake up to your ugly mug every day for the next ten or so years you have left on this mortal coil."
Demitri tried standing up again, though his knees shook as he did. "I paid you! You didn't do the job I hired you for. I can sue you.."
Jessica chuckled and glanced over to Avery, who merely shrugged. "I dare you to find a lawyer even willing to hear you out, but just so we are clear. You paid me to find her. I found her. It was in the contract you signed. I can have that sent over to your lawyer if you want. Otherwise, if I find out you so much as googled the poor woman's name I will personally see that your teeth are shoved down your throat in pieces that you will be shitting them out for months. Do we have an understanding?"
Demitri stood there, attempting to say something. As he did Jessica stepped forward and he fell back, scrambling to his feet. He gave her a tense look before he left.
"You nearly broke the door. Again," Avery said.
Jessica shrugged, "We can afford it."
Avery returned to her desk. "Be that as it may, that's the third client you kicked out. Not that the dick didn't deserve it, but we need steady work if we want to keep the lights on and allow me to buy that cute dress I saw in the store window."
Jessica grabbed her jacket in her office and put it on. "We'll be fine Avery. Work will come. In the meantime I'm heading home. I have a little girl I need to play with and a husband to make sweet love to to wash away the grime I had to muck in today."
As the door shut, Avery smiled. No, it was never boring here.
M I S C E L L A N E O U S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ►The Hornet Armour Hobie's current costume is a modified version of his Prowler Suit. The key differences are that utilising pneumatic blasts and drafts, caught by his glider cape, he is capable of short-distance flight. It also utilizes sedative 'stingers' which are also fired pneumatically, effective to aim over about forty feet, assuming regular weather. His suit still has precautionary grappling hooks in each gauntlet, and impact-resistant boots, capable of allowing him to withstand falls and harder landings. His boots also possess the pneumatic means to allow him to leap great heights, useful if conditions aren't the best suited for a ground based take-off. ►Skills Whilst Hobie is a genius of sorts, he's still a specialised one. A self-made man who discovered his own innate gifts for working with pneumatics and fabrication, he is a creative and innovative thinker in his field. He is currently using his skills to function as an investigator/detective work, and his own skills and genius don't really transfer that way. He can make obvious inferences, and see blatant connections, but he is neither Batman, nor Vic Sage. He has no training for it, and no natural aptitude in that regard. He's just able to gain access to information by use of his brilliant suits, and feels they should be put to good use. Holding bad people accountable. Hobie is a moderately good hacker. Again, self-taught. But he's not a miracle worker in this regard. -
That's what we're getting here. Hobie was spared, given a second chance and made good with it. He has a solid career, that never happens if he goes to prison, and 'made it out'.
Now he's hellbent on crushing those who would exploit the people who grew up in those similar circumstances - to try and give those people the chances that he had. The chance to make good. The chance to 'be more'.
Captain America, the Avengers, maybe even Spider-Man bring hope. Hobie brings down giants who trample people like ants.
T H E H I S T O R Y O F H O B I E T H E H I S T O R Y O F H O B I E
The youngest of nine brothers, Hobie was born to Tyrone “Tiger” Brown and Josie “Jo” Brown in Harlem New York.
Before Hobie can remember, his father went off to war. He is MIA and the family was receiving payment and benefits, but with nine kids they struggled to stretch so far. Only one parent with her hands full with nine young boys, in the background of the ‘crack wars’ of the mid-to-late 90s.
Jo was shot in a home burglary, in an unsolved crime committed by someone doubtless seeking fast money for drugs. Rushed to Emergency, she was given a blood transfusion which was poorly screened. The transfusion infected her with HIV, back in the days when the diagnosis was viewed as a certain death sentence.
Facing an impossible choice of fighting a prolonged legal battle she certainly wouldn’t live long enough to see the end of, she accepted a cash settlement for the medical ‘mishap’, and the family used the money to buy a sizable home in South Bronx. At tremendous cost, she had managed to provide and get her boys out.
Their oldest brother, Abraham, had left the home already for opportunities overseas. He would return packages of money for the family periodically, as they remained in correspondence. As their mother was approaching her end, the family reached out to have him brought home, but he didn’t make it back in time. Before ‘Jo’s passing, she made the brothers swear to look out for one another – this resulted in the eight remaining boys, always remaining in close proximity. Even as some left home, they would still remain in the Bronx.
The eight boys had a ‘hustle-life’ attitude to money and its procurement, but had formed a zero tolerance attitude to drugs and gangs, all having seen the impact that they had indirectly had on their own family – the drive for money for drugs which resulted in their mother being shot, and the gangs who peddled drugs to one who shot her. Direct confrontation from all eight of the Brown Boys any time someone was foolish enough to attempt to recruit one on their own, saw an unsteady truce where the family and gangs both left well enough, and each other, alone.
Hobie, the youngest of his family, and in many ways the most fortunate, with seven older brothers watching over him and pushing him to meet his potential had the best grades of the group and was their hope to be the family’s first chance at going to college. He was a natural talent in many sciences and mathematics. A mishap with one of his inventions, saw him lose the opportunity as intent was read into the disaster, and he was suspended for the remainder of the school year. He later completed his schooling and got his GED, but school’s which had courted him distanced themselves after the incident, despite his pleas of innocence.
Hobie had a number of jobs over the years. Factory hand, repairman... but it was as a window cleaner where his life went through another pivotal change.
He saw a fight between Daredevil and Stilt-Man playing out right in front of him. The action, the excitement, this clash of two previously larger than life entities - one, larger than buildings - playing out in front of him.
And when it was done, and the marvels and menaces had disappeared, cloaked in the city beyond, presumably either still in conflict or to clash another day. Hobie found himself in a strange situation.
He was critically assessing the Stilt-Man's costume. Simple ways it could have been done better.
And just like that, these people-beyond-men no longer seemed larger than life.
Hobie began work on his own suit and his own secret identity.
After being let go from his job for an argument that started over whether he took the job seriously, when he tried to show his boss tools of his own invention which he created to make his job easier, he was left a necessity to find money for his family and not much time to do it in. He needed money fast. Likely faster than he'd be able to get a new job.
Before that moment, so much of his time had been obsessively into his own latest creation - the suit.
The solution seemed obvious.
First he began to put together a list of high value, low conflict targets. People whose own business dealings had ravaged the community. But his life would change once again, when he set his sights on the Daily Bugle's payroll, in a retaliatory effort for a string of articles on gentrification which Hobie felt put the 'hood in a bad light.
He had never attempted anything so public and visible before, but it was a newspaper, and the message was half of the point wasn't it?
That's what saw him confronting people in his suit, for the first time, in broad daylight.
Until it all went wrong.
Some young copyboy or intern was knocked out of a window. Nobody was supposed to get hurt. It was never supposed to be like this!
And when Spider-Man swung to his rescue and to confront him, all fast flying words, webs and punches Hobie wasn't ready for it.
He ran. Fled.
Once he got clear, he broke down, lamenting the loss of the young man. Reconsidering every decision he'd ever made since creating the suit.
And that's when Spider-Man found him. And the webs and punches were put away. This time it was only words.
And no snappy one-liners.
Spider-Man told him that he hadn't gone his entire costumed life without a mistake either. That he'd suffered loss. And the one lesson he'd learnt from who he had lost which always stood paramount.
With great power comes great responsibility.
And with that, Hobie's life pivoted.
He was forever grateful of the second chance he'd received. But he also looked at the suit in an entirely different way. Those words had made it sacred in a sort of way.
And beyond just a mere source of income.
Hobie's obseession drifted away from the suit. The money he had so far accrued had bought him a little time. And instead he worked on himself. He invested the time, effort and energy, inwards.
And with his skills in pneumatics, and with the critical eye he had cast over Stilt-Man's costume all that time ago, he found his own calling, as a consultant for how to best create processes utilitising pneumatics to maximise efficiency and effectiveness, mostly in the industrial sector.
Hobie Brown took back control of the power within his life.
And in his free-time..? Now he would hold other people in power responsible.
Air Jordan 35s kiss the blacktop in steady repetition, as Hobie sits on the ground level bleacher watching on.
One of the few reasons Hobie would ever return to Harlem. But religious grounds are always a good reason, for basketball's Mecca.
He worked away on a chili burger from Harlem Shake, before a pair of Lebron XXs had him looking up.
"You ain't gonna spill none of that on the court, or my Brons are you, Old Man?"
His brothers were on their way, but wouldn't care for the tone if they stepped in now. The family always got together to see the Rucker Tournament. Every year. Since before Hobie even was. They'd seen Kyrie ball here. Older members of his family could even remember seeing Steph back when Steph meant Starbury, Kobe and Iverson.
Whatever the weather. Whatever turmoil went on in their lives, this place was something else.
"Can't spill on your kicks if you get back in the game, Young buck."
"Can still get your chili on my Brons if you spill courtside. Wh--"
His next comment was silenced by the blackening of the sun, as an afro the likes of which hadn't been seen at the Rucker since Doctor J held court, sat atop the crown of the intimidating man who stood with his arms folded, waiting to be given a reason. Three jade tiger amulets perched upon his chest. And his expression held all the good humour of cracked concrete.
"Rucker's always been about good community, Young Buck. For us, by us. My brother and I will clean up any mess we make."
Trying to save whatever face he could, the baller stammered out a "Ye-- yeah... Just see that you do." and turned back to the pre-game shoot around.
"Just like you'll clean up any mess you make, when my brother makes you piss yo'self."
Some laughter came from the bleachers behind him, as the interaction had drawn more attention than just the three of them.
The large figure with the afro shot Hobie a look. He wasn't here to clean up any trouble his younger brother intentionally put himself in.
"So I couldn't help myself. What's happenin', Abe?"
Hobie finished his burger, cleaned his hands and dapped his brother up, finishing with a hug.
T H E S P E C T A C U L A R . . .S P I D E R - M A N
Peter Benjamin Parker ♦ Photojournalist ♦ Queens ♦ Independent
C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:
"How witty are we talking?"
With great power comes great responsibility. These were the last words of advise Uncle Ben gave before his death at the hands of a common mugger. Peter Parker took those fateful words to heart, dedicating the rest of his life to protecting the people of New York City. Wielding mutated powers gifted to him by a genetically-altered spider, Peter Parker is your friendly neighborhood SPIDER-MAN.
His first love, Gwen Stacey, died in his arms at the hands of the Green Goblin. When Peter discovered the Goblin was actually his mentor and his best friend's father, Norman Osborn, Peter confronted him. Their climactic battle ended with Norman suffering mortal wounds. Harry Osborn preserved his father's life with experimental cryogenic tech, and vowed terrible vengeance against the violent vigilante, Spider-Man.
Since gaining his powers at the tender age of fifteen, Peter's vigil over New York City has stood unbroken for over two decades. He's clashed with dozens of costumed villains, murderous vigilantes, corrupt businessmen and petty tyrants.
Peter married Mary-Jane Watson, acclaimed actress and close friend. The two had a daughter together, Anna-May Parker, and moved into Forest Hills, Queens. Peter finally received the recognition he deserved from J.J. Jameson and earned himself a permanent position at the Daily Bugle as a crime reporter and photojournalist.
Anna-May is sixteen years old now, and Peter's worried she may be developing superpowers of her own. Raising a teenager is hard enough on its own without superpowers involved. He wants nothing more than to let her live the normal life that he never did.
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:
I've been greatly enjoying the Ultimate Spider-Man run and started re-reading Renew Your Vows, and felt inspired to write a Spider-Man that's grown up. He's a family man now, with even more personal responsibilities than ever before. Peter Parker's struggle to juggle the many different facets of his life is a core part of his character, in my opinion: can he really continue to protect the city as Spider-Man without neglecting his personal life? Can he hold down a decent job, pay off his mortgage, and afford to send his kid to school someday? His every day struggles are deeply relatable to me, and those are the aspects I find most compelling and plan to integrate into his story.
Of course, the hard part isn't just getting by: its doing all that while villains in colorful costumes and gangsters in pin-stripped suits attempt to tear New York City apart, and Spider-Man's the only one that can stop them. At this point in his life, he's battled all of his classic villains: from Doc Ock, the Lizard, and Sandman to his arch-nemeses, Venom and the Green Goblin. Norman Osborn is trapped in a life-threatening coma after his last bout with the webhead, yet his son, Harry, has donned the goblin's mask in search of retribution.
Peter's been Spider-Man for over twenty years now. He's been in more superhero team-ups than there are hours in the week. I'm hoping to leave a lot of room for other spider-adjacent characters like Miles Morales, Silk or even a heroic Venom to be picked up by interested parties.
C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:
►Mary Jane Watson-Parker: MJ is a lifelong friend of Peter Parker and, as of fifteen years ago, his wife. She's an award-winning actress, best known for her role in the action-comedy trilogy Jackpot by Cage McKnight, and a former fashion model. Since the birth of her daughter, Annie, she's moved back to NYC to focus on her family. She regularly acts in and directs smaller, indie projects with local Hollywood hopefuls. During emergencies, she dons the Regent-powered Spinneret suit, which allows her to borrow Peter's powers for a short time.
►Anna-May Parker: Daughter of Peter and MJ, Anna is sixteen years old. She's inherited the fierce intellect and endless curiosity of her parents. Ever since she learned her father was Spider-Man she's dreamed of having powers of her own and fighting crime alongside him, despite his insistence against it. More than once Peter has found Annie tinkering with his web-shooters and spider-bots when she should've been sleeping.
►Harry Osborn: Harry Osborn was once a brother to Peter Parker. The two grew up together, thick as thieves all the way from childhood to the end of high school. One would've thought them inseparable before the death of Gwen Stacy at hands of the Green Goblin. An enraged Spider-Man sought out the Goblin in his home- Norman Osborn's home- where he had neither his glider nor his pumpkin bombs to aid him. Peter would've killed Norman if not for Harry's intervention. Angry, confused and betrayed, Harry did all he could to save his father, freezing him in a cryogenic tank in the hopes of finding some means to save him. Grieved by what's become of his father, Harry took a sample of the 'Goblin Formula' that Norman once consumed: trading his already strained sanity in for the power he needed to reap retribution from Peter Parker.
S A M P L E P O S T:
MARVELS: Streets of New York Presents: THE SPECTACULAR SPIDER-MAN
ISSUE #0: ALONG CAME A SPIDER
Queens ♦ New York City
The L train screamed through Broadway Junction station like a bat out of hell, smashing apart a hastily erected barricade in the middle of the track. NYPD officers and MTA workers scattered as debris flew through the air in every direction. At the front of the train, a man in a yellow-quilted costume stood in the cabin, his vibro-shock gauntlets embedded in the controls. "What do you think, boys? Can we make this thing go any faster?!" He cackled, sending another wave of electricity flowing through the system.
A gang of turtleneck-wearing, assault rifle wielding professionals made their way up and down the train's cars, stripping the trapped passengers of all their belongings. After being sufficiently departed from their valuables, the passengers were herded into the central cars and zip-tipped together.
"ACC-EL-AR-ATE! Hahaha!" Shocker shouted over the radio.
One of the hired guns looked to his partner and smacked a palm against his forehead. "This idiot's going to get us all killed."
"Y'know, I was thinking the same thing." Spider-Man agreed, wrapping an arm around the gun-totting thief's shoulder. "You guys deserve better. You think Kingpin's hiring these days?"
The gunman shouted a confused splurge of curses, each gaining an octave as he realized just how screwed he really was. Before he could shift his rifle around or take a step away, he found his feet leaving the ground and the ceiling quickly approaching. He screamed, and his face smashed directly into the roof just as a white, sticky substance slapped against the back of his head, pinning him in place.
The second thief whirled, firing a spray of bullets right where he'd seen Spider-Man just a moment ago. Instead of tearing holes into his blue-and-red spandex-ed ass, they instead poked holes into the windows and seats of the train car. "Where'd he-"
"Over here, champ." Spider-Man tapped the guy's left shoulder so he'd twist toward it, only to slam a fist into his right cheek. He was sent careening head over heels to the floor, where another spurt of webbing stuck him firmly to the floor. The thief groaned.
"Hm, sounds like that hurt. Make sure you apply for worker's comp. And put some ice on that!" Peter wagged a parting finger down at the goon before turning and jogging down the car.
There were a lot of people tied up in this car. Peter felt a twist of anxiety in his gut as he realized how stupid it'd been to stunt on those guys with so many innocent people packed in like sardines here. It was pure luck no one had been hurt. Stupid; the kind of mistake he would've made when he was a rookie, but he should know better by now.
"Everyone okay?" He asked, slipping through the train car and freeing each and every one of them. People grabbed at his arm for his attention, looking for comfort in frightening times. Peter felt woefully under-qualified to offer it. All he could do is offer confident words and held hands. They were fathers, mothers, someone's kids. They all reminded him of people he'd failed to protect before.
Parker stood. "Alright, everybody. Stay here. Find something to hold onto." He turned, and started toward the next car. "I've got a train to catch."
Clearing the next car took no time at all. Peter had his game face on, and a handful of frightened train robbers fell quickly. They could barely see the blur of multi-colored, arachnid-themed pajamas as he web-zipped from one side of the car to the other. He needed to be quick about this, but the real struggle was never going too fast. Too much momentum, or one reckless punch and one of these jerks might be headed for the morgue instead of a hospital.
A faint buzz in the back of Peter's mind told him to duck, and he obliged. Just as he did it started raining bullets as machine gun rounds tore down through the ceiling and peppered the interior below. With a flick of his wrist, he attached a web to the wall and flung himself through a window and flipped up to the top of the train. A blur of buildings and treetops flew past as he confronted the gunman: a burly man the size of a hotdog cart, a massive, belt-fed fire arm in his meat paws.
"Hey, jerkface!" Peter rushed him, ducking underneath another spray of bullets and sliding between the gunman's legs just to pop up behind him. With a quick pat to the back Peter attached a drone to his shirt, grabbed him and tossed him into the air.
A parachute burst out of the back of the drone, catching the train's slipstream and launching its passenger into the great beyond.
"That's what you get for not paying the fare!" He shouted after the rapidly ascending balloon-man.
With the last of Shocker's henchpeople dealt with, all he had left to do was take down the head honcho himself.
New York's tackiest-dressed supervillain had no idea what was coming for him. He was all too absorbed in the thrill of pushing the train to its absolute maximum speed, blowing through every station and grinding down the railway in the process. At this speed, the chances of derailing at every sharp turn were high. Too high. The NYPD had helicopters pursuing it, but even they were having trouble keeping up at this point.
Shocker didn't see much more than a flash of red booties before the front window shattered inward and double kick sent him careening out of the driver's seat. Tumbling head over heels, he tore chunks of steel out of the flooring with his gauntlets as he flailed wildly about in surprise.
"A train robbery, Herman? Really? Were you stuck watching nothing but Gunsmoke re-runs in prison?" Spider-Man crouched atop the busted control console, every muscle in his body tensed like a spring even as he ran his mouth.
"What else we s'posed to hit in this town anymore?" Shocker grumbled, stumbling back to his feet. "Half the banks are owned by Maggia n' the other half's Kingpin's turf! Even I ain't crazy enough to mess with 'em. Guys like us can't make a living these days."
"Have you considered opening a quilting boutique? I know a few grandmas who'd go buck-wild for that costume."
"Screw you. Imma finally squash you like the bug you are!" Shocker growled, and charged.
James Buchanan Barnes ♦ War Veteran ♦ Staten Island ♦ Retired Soldier/Assassin/Captain
C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:
"From one fight to the other. For ninety years. Every day is a battle"
After 80 years of service, some willingly, most of it not so much - he left that life behind. SHIELD, and every other security organization in the world certainly weren't happy with that. He's on every security watchlist, but agencies knows better than to poke the winter soldier that sleeps. Leaving the spy-and-hero life behind wasn't easy. He had to say goodbye to a lot of people, a lot like the way a junkie has to cut ties with all of his user-peers, Bucky had to break off completely. He took that choice into his own bionic hand and, for the first time since he lied about his age to go fight in Germany - he felt like he had truly been the one at the wheel.
He's not a weapon, and he's not a spy. He's no longer the Winter Soldier, and he's certainly not Captain America. He's unfit for civilian life, yet knows he cannot engage himself in the hero community at large anymore. Too much blood on his hands, too many secrets in his head. He knows where too many bodies are buried and he's tired of digging graves. Instead, he's trying to apply the skills that his body has memorized to better his local community. Most days that looks a lot like burning a caserole for the Veterans meeting group, or helping the lady down the hall with her broken washing machine.
He can barely sleep at night, and he can't help but get involved in every bit of injustice that comes by his sight. To let go of old grudges. To forgive people in his past, and most of all, to try and forgive himself. James is a broken man who is trying to put the pieces back together.
Bucky is trying to be better.
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:
"It's been a very long time since I got to punch a nazi. Sadly, it's never long enough."
I recently read the 2020 run of Falcon & The Winter Soldier. I also recently rewatched all of Burn Notice. Bucky in the context of this game is a mix of these two ideas. He is running from his past, believing himself to have 'done enough' as a hero. He's tired of politics, and he's certianly tired of being told what to do. I want to explore the parts of Bucky where he's the best. Where he's a malplaced regular guy trying to make his way in the most dense city on Earth. The TV-show from back in the olden' days is one of my favorite outings, simply because it spent some time on the very human elements of Bucky.
Bucky is going to balance staying out of trouble with his wish to help people around him. Using his skills and abilities in unconventional ways to aid those that seek his help. He spends his time volunteering at the VA, trying to cope with his regular therapist meetings, all while trying to restart his social life. All of this underpinned by the sneaking suspicion that one of these days, Bucky is gonna break bad and live up to some John Wick-esque behavior.
James Barnes offers a lot of character for his corner of NYC, a corner he himself cannot completely comprehend. He's a man out of time, in a world where he's haunted by all of the harm he's done. Torn between a desire for peace, and a character that's capable of dynamic hyper-violent superhero action all at once. He's a little knight rider, a little Burn Notice, a little Captain America. He's a man who is trying to become better.
C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:
"My name is James Buchanan Barnes, and I used to be a spy."
- Alpine: Bucky's best friend and housemate. Nine lives. - Jacob Porter: Former NAVY-Seal, part of James' Veteran support group. Gives him odd-jobs that are 'extra-legal' when someone has a problem nobody else can solve. - Michelle Valdez: Agent of SHIELD, SWORD and just about any other acronymed organisation. Used to be deep undercover for HYDRA until Zemo bit a bullet. She debriefed and now tries to handle Bucky. - Lars 'Lenny' Ulfreds: Psychiatrist who James has weekly meetings with.
- Silvio Manfredi: and James are born the same year. James posession of the super soldier serum in his blood and his deaccelerated aging angers the head of the Manfredi family almost as much as his refusal to work for the Maggia as a hitman. - The Maggia Syndicate: The organization lead by Silvermane at large are causing trouble in Bucky's neighborhood, and his many odd-jobs helping out the people around him will lead to trouble with the mob as a whole. - Kingpin: Certainly upset over the time Bucky broke his leg. - Hydra: Hail Hydra. They've been terminated. Zemo was killed. More heads are certain to sprout up. Someone is always gonna try to re-gain power over the Winter Soldier. - The X:ers: Neo-Nazi group of hooligans on Bucky's block who are terrorizing his neighbors.
I am agnostic to James having been placed in the role as Captain America in the past or not. If nobody picks up Steve, I'll make a choice regarding it down the line. If someone does decide to play Mister Rogers, Sam or Walker, I've got no qualms going one direction or the other.
S A M P L E P O S T:
MARVELS: Streets of New York Presents: B U C K Y
ISSUE #0:ржавый, печь, рассвет
Staten Island ♦ New York City
In his two-room apartment, Bucky sat crosslegged on the floor, trying to remember the medetation mantras Wong had taught him. Inner peace. Feel the garden of your soul bloom. Move your mind into your special place. Your center.
Problem is, whenever Bucky spends too much time in the peace and quiet, he finds himself remembering what it was like. Those short seconds as the nitrogen gas filled his chamber and his body cooled down. When the programming let go, and he got control again, only to get snuffed out. Seconds that felt like years. When he came to, he wanted to scream, yet his body never allowed him to. He was screaming inside of his own head. Aware of what he was doing, incapable of stopping it. No power to do anything but exactly what he was told to do.
Each time he was activated, he heard those cursed words echo in his skull, louder than his own voice ever could. Like a spell they held him. Working him strings on a doll. He could shout himself hoarse, yet he would never overpower the might of those simple commands that ruled his entire life. He was bound. Defined by the chains that had been placed on him.
"Longing,"
He sees himself at 17. The day before he was shipped off to Germany. He had just chased away some of the guys who were picking on his best friend. Steve had treated him to a meal at the local fair on Staten Island as a thanks. Steve himself, in spite of his 5'2 frame and 70 pounds body had in turn stopped those same jerks from picking on an old man. Steve was physically weak. But he was the strongest man James knew. He looked up to him. He inspired him.
"rusted,"
"If you look up at someone, what way are they looking at you?" His father used to say. Steve never once looked down on him, not after he got the serum, not after James stopped being known as 'Sergeant Barnes' and instead became 'Captain Americas' Bucky'. Steve still respected him, valued him. Saw him as a brother. Steve was an inspiration to the entire nation, to to the world. To James, Steve Rogers was finally seen the way he had always known his best friend. He lead James and the Howling Commandos during the war and they turned the tide.
"furnace,"
Steve made the ultimate sacrifice.
Bucky hears Steve scream, Steve's hand grabs Bucky's arm. Problem was that they both quickly realize that his arm is all Steve holds. James falls to his death after a surprise ambush from Hydra forces. Steve has to keep on fighting.
Steve saved the world. He stopped Hydra. He made sure there would be a tomorrow. Yet Steve wasn't there to save his friend from the fires worse than the seventh circle of hell, at least that's what Johnny Blaze had told him many years ago when he gazed into all of Bucky's past deeds. Bucky was turned into a weapon for evil men to enact evil deeds. He was used like a hot knife through butter, burning the world all around him.
He kept screaming when he was forced to take a life. A West-German diplomat. A police captain in Berlin. He was deployed to America. Hunting down certain actors who had fled from Europe.
He tried to scream, more than ever before when he was face to face with the man who made Steve Rogers. A man who's life Bucky's metal arm drained as his windpipe collapsed. He followed his orders, and without a seconds hesitation, he grabbed the gun from his back and fired six bullets into the horrified wife - a mother of one - of the now murdered man.
"daybreak"
When he gunned down four agents working for SHIELD, and when he murdered a king. Bucky was no longer screaming. He had lost his voice. His will to fight. He had utterly surrendered to the program that now controller him.
Despite giving everything. Steve came back. By some miracle, he eventually managed to bring Bucky back.
"seventeen," The words had no power over him anymore, as his lips themselves could murmur them. These chains were no longer defining him. Yet the memories they still could hold him prisoner, if he let them.
He felt a warmth climb up the side of his body in his deep meditative state. Bucky opened his eyes as Alpine hit his arm with her head, purring. Telling him she needed food and that the worst crime he had ever committed was leaving her to starve for the entire afternoon. He was out of cat food.
"Yeah yeah girl. It's time for dinner. I'm gonna pop down to the corner and get you your favorite." He got dressed in his jacket, fixing his shoes. As he put his hand on the door, he looked at the cat rolling around on the floor. He scoffed and let out a slight smile that turned into a smirk.
Felicia Hardy ♦ Owner of Cat's Eye Private Investigations; part time Hero for Hire ♦ Manhattan
C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:
"'Probability' is just a five-dollar word for 'luck.' And I'm nothing but bad luck, baby."
As a teenager, her father, Walter Hardy, disappeared. In her attempts to discover the truth of what happened, she learned her father was an international art thief by the name The Cat, and met his mentor, a man only known as Black Fox. It was from Black Fox that Felicia learned the trade, all while spending the next several years searching for Walter.
In her early twenties, she found her father. In an attempt to protect his family, Walter had faked his death and gone into hiding after refusing to work for The Maggia. Tragically, their reunion was cut short by a Maggia assassin. Enraged, Felicia decided to dedicate her life to enacting vengeance on the organization that had twice taken her father from her. She underwent a surgery to bestow her with superhuman abilities, and adapted the identity of the Black Cat in an effort to honor the two men who had raised her. She began a campaign of breaking into secure Maggia facilities, then providing the stolen information and goods to Maggia rivals, such as the Kingpin.
It was during this time that she met Spider-Man, who helped convince Felicia that, while dismantling the Maggia's operations was a worthy goal, her methods of providing crime lords with intel and material was wrong, and would only serve to hurt more innocents in the long run. Dropping her vendetta, Felicia attempted to retire from from the life, but found a mundane existence too boring. She instead decided to give up her civilian life, embracing her costumed identity as the true version of herself. Meeting Spider-Man once more, the two partnered up for some time before Felicia's propensity for thievery—she had been pilfering the pockets of criminal organizations on the side—led to Spider-Man parting ways in disappointment.
Wanting a new direction in life, Felicia used these ill-gotten gains to fund her own detective and security consultation agency, of which she was boss and sole employee. She also invested in a top-of-the-line suit courtesy of The Tinkerer. After making a new, more respectable name for herself in the business, she eventually crossed paths with Danny Rand who offered Felicia a gig as a Hero for Hire.
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:
Felicia Hardy is an interesting character who received quite a lot of development in the late 80s and early-to-mid 90s. Unfortunately, like most characters, she severely suffers from writers constantly forcing her back into states of "status quo." I hate this trend. Despise it even. So, the motivation here is to write a story featuring an interesting character who is actually allowed to progress in their life. Call it a big "fuck you" to Marvel Editorial.
For my version of Felicia, I am borrowing from several different alternate universe sources, including the 1994 Spider-Man animated series and PS4 game, blending the origins and drives of them into something that is coherent and meaningful. Primarily, though, this Felicia is in line with a truncated version of the 616 comics—to a point. Felicia's time as a detective, and her stint as a Hero for Hire, are the main focus and will be approached from a perspective of "what would this woman be like if editorial didn't keep erasing her progressions?" We're going to pretend the dumb shit that happened in-between and afterward never existed.
C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:
Powers and Abilities:
Probability manipulation: Felicia is perpetually surrounded by a "bad luck aura" that causes improbable but not impossible events to occur. This ability is subliminal and grows stronger when under duress.
Enhanced Strength: Her Black Cat suit, designed by the brilliant Tinkerer, increases Felicia's physical strength to that of peak human conditioning. She can lift 800lbs overhead, and leap fifteen feet into the air from a standing position.
Enhanced Agility: The costume also augments her agility and speed to levels beyond that of even the greatest human athletes. She is capable of executing complex gymnastic feats with minimal effort, and run upwards of 30 miles per hour.
Enhanced Equilibrium: The suit also interacts with the balance centers of her brain, increasing her balance and allowing her to perform incredible stunts or flips beyond normal human capabilities.
Enhanced Durability: The suit gives Felicia resistance to many types of injury, protecting her from blunt force trauma. The joints are especially reinforced to enable her to withstand falls from great heights without discomfort or pain.
Enhanced Vision: The lenses of her suit allow Felicia to see in greater clarity, distance, and various ranges of the electromagnetic spectrum, including infrared and ultraviolet light.
Retractable Claws: The gloves of her costume form razor sharp claws capable of tearing through most materials, and enabling Felicia to scale walls.
Grappling Hook: A miniature grapnel within the wrist of each glove can be used as a swing line, tightrope, or weapon.
Olympic Level Athlete: Without her suit, Felicia still has the reflexes, stamina, and conditioning of an Olympic level gymnast and acrobat.
Expert Martial Artist: Felicia has been extensively trained in several martial arts, and specializes in both judo and karate.
Master Thief: Skilled in stealth, lockpicking, escapology, and more, Felicia is one of the greatest thieves in the world. Trained by probably the greatest thief in the world, she has considerable knowledge in security systems.
Skilled Investigator: Felicia is fairly experienced in detective work and knows how to follow leads, interrogate suspects, and has a honed instinct to know when another person is concealing information.
Dramatis Personae:
Black Fox: Perhaps the world's greatest thief, and the mentor of Felicia. Elusive and audacious.
Danny Rand: Felicia's employer and coworker at Heroes for Hire. Immortal Iron Fist and filthy rich.
Luke Cage: Felicia's other employer and coworker at Heroes for Hire. Power and Man.
Spider-Man: One-time partner in heroics, Felicia and the Web-Head have a complicated history. Friendly and amazing.
Phineas Mason AKA The Tinkerer: Creator of Felicia's newest Black Cat suit, former super villain, and occasional criminal informant. Terribly brilliant and terribly old.
The Maggia: Crime syndicate that often wants Felicia dead. Multiple and stereotypical.
Roxxon Corporation: Multinational energy and pharmaceutical enterprise with ridiculously excessive profits. Morally questionable and capitalistic.
S A M P L E P O S T:
The warehouse was cold, the kind of deep, industrial chill that seeped into the bones. A truck idled near the loading dock, exhaust curling into the air like the last wisps of a dying cigarette. Overhead, flickering fluorescents buzzed against the silence, throwing stark white light across concrete floors and rusting support beams. The warehouse wasn’t abandoned, but it wanted to be. It was the kind of place where things happened out of sight, behind bolted doors and expired safety inspections.
Six men occupied the warehouse floor, clustered near a battered steel worktable. One stood with his arms crossed—a tall man in a tailored grey suit that fit him like a second skin. His features were sharp and angular, giving the impression of being carved from expensive stone. He checked his watch, impatient.
Next to him, a stockier man hunched over a laptop, pecking at the keys. He had broad shoulders, a shaved head, and a scar running along the ridge of his nose. He looked mean, and if not for the lines of code flashing across the screen, I would have pegged him for muscle. His fingers moved fast, eyes flicking between the screen and the small green flash drive plugged into the side.
Two more men stood a few feet away. One was a barrel-chested slab of muscle in a too-small leather jacket, the other leaner and older, with silver-streaked hair. They kept their hands close to their holsters, just in case. The last pair lingered by the loading dock doors, more brawn, more guns. Not that it mattered. Guns were only helpful if you saw your target coming.
Six men. Six sets of eyes.
None of them ever looked up.
I moved in the rafters, a whisper of motion. My boots made friends with the steel beams as I navigated the skeletal maze above the men. They were here to make a deal for some disgustingly wealthy individuals. I was here to collect a prize—but a prize wasn’t worth anything if you couldn’t take it clean. That meant timing. That meant patience.
It also meant waiting for the right mistake.
It started small. Laptop Guy reached for his coffee, more focused on the screen than his grip. His fingers fumbled, and the mug tipped. Dark liquid sloshed over the table, spilling fast toward the flash drive.
“Shit,” he muttered, jerking the cup upright, but the damage was done. Coffee trickled into the USB port, pooling in the tiny crevice around the drive.
It didn’t appear to fry the system, but it shorted the connection, causing the screen to stutter. A system message appeared.
ERROR: device improperly ejected.
The file transfer froze, and Laptop Guy hissed a curse, grabbing a rag from his pocket to dab at the device.
The tall man in the suit exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Do you have any idea how much time you just cost us?”
Laptop Guy was already fumbling with the drive, trying to reinsert it, but his hands were still damp from the spill. Fingers slipped, and the drive popped loose. It bounced off the metal table, skittering across the floor. It slid far and fast enough to land directly under the steel shelving behind them.
The bruiser in the leather jacket sighed, stepping forward. “I got it.”
He crouched, reaching under the shelving.
Maybe it was old. Maybe it had been loaded unevenly. Maybe, just maybe, something was working in my favor—either way, the shelf shifted, and the weight at the top tipped ever so slightly. A box of old inventory—heavy, dust-covered, and precariously stacked—leaned forward, then tumbled.
The bruiser jerked back just in time, but the box hit the ground with a crash, splitting open. Loose screws, bolts, and washers scattered across the concrete like metal confetti. The suited man took a sharp step back to avoid them. So did the others.
Just like that, all eyes were momentarily elsewhere. And in that precise, perfect instant, I dropped—no more substantial than a shadow in the night. By the time the tall man straightened, brushing dust from his sleeve, the drive was gone.
With a few years of the superhero life under her belt, this version of Gwen Stacy was just hitting her strider as her dimensions one and only Spider-Woman. She navigated those awkward early years with all the disputes with her friends and family and daring escapades that many versions of Peter Parker also share. For a moment it might look like she'd even finally began to move past the grief and shame of her best friend's death, in her personal life she was several years into college and as the hero Spiderwoman she was truly starting to make a difference. Then everything went wrong. Harry Osborne returned to New York, aligning with both NYPD Captain Frank Castle and the new Kingpin, Matt Murdock, in their shared aim to bring an end to Spider-Woman. New York became a conflict zone of increasingly extreme proportions as the trio expended their great reserves of resources and ambition in their aim, culminating in a plot that began to pull the very fabric of their reality apart. In her efforts to prevent disaster, Gwen Stacy has ended up stranded in another dimension, but with little but hurtful memories to return to and in the interest of protecting her embattled father, Gwen is in little rush to return home, instead lost in the present of this new reality.
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:
With a more grown up Spider-man present in the game, I thought it would be interesting to play a Spider-Gwen who's also further along in her story than she's usually portrayed both in wider media and her own comics. Rather than a fresh superhero before being thrust into interdimensional threats, her displacement is a result of conflicts directly tied to her journey as Spider-woman. Rather than a High School senior or first year college student, she's made it through half a decade of Spidering, starting to just about get a handle on the usual Spiderperson issues of being chased by the law and balancing her personal life before being displaced. She's not entirely upset about her situation, however, seeing her separation from her friends and family as a neccesary evil to keep them safe from the increasingly hostile reality of her home. The stories I want to tell are the consequences of a well meaning Spider-Gwen unmoored from her reality, yet still wishing to do good, as well as the struggles of living in a reality where you don't legally exist, at least not among the living. I want to deal with the very early process of this, rather than start her mostly on the way to making a new home.
C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:
Spider-Woman, or Ghost Spider as she will style herself in this new reality, shares the generic abilities of Spider-people, although as with any of those she puts her own spin on her approach. A ballet dancer through high school and a musician beyond that she exhibits a style which is athletic and graceful in a rhythmic sense. Her webshooters and suit are gifts from her dimensions Janet Van Dyne and so provide a few more unique abilities, the formers able to recharge overtime without the need for her to create her own webfluid, and the later able to shift colour at her will, alongside extendable glider wings from beneath her arms when required.
Captain Stacy: Now retired, George Stacy is Gwen's father and only parent following the death of her mother. Previously in charge of the taskforce put together to catch Spider-Woman, George was eventually dismissed in favour of Frank Castle. His relationship with Gwen was strained by their differences but close in bond, until in the passing moments of Gwen's time within her own dimension she admitted her identity to her father. She never saw her father again before her final confrontation with Harry, but the fall out of the reveal no doubt contributes to her lack of desire to seek a way home.
Peter Parker: Her best friend in High School and her greatest failure, during Gwen's early years as Spider-Woman she fought with the Lizard, who turned out to be Peter. The later did not survive and she's carried the guilt with her.
The Mary Janes: Gwen's band and her longest last friends. Gwen's secret identity and life as Spider-woman created a great deal of conflict between herself and her other bandmates during the later years of High School, but the maturity of the following years lead to a greater degree of balance. While she may miss them, she now sees her absence as a way to protect them from what Harry may be willing to do to hurt her, as he narrowed in on her identity.
Janet Van Dyne: Retired hero and role model to Spider-Woman, Janet took a chance on a young woman caught between self aggrandisement and doing some real good in the city of New York. The tech required for Gwen to be Spider-woman was Van Dyne make and Janet is the only person back home for Gwen who has any idea of what has happened to both Spider-woman and Gwen Stacy.
No Way Home: The trio of Harry Osborne, Frank Castle and Matt Murdock united in their desire to rid New York of Spider-woman, for very different reasons. Frank Castle, the obsessed police captain who blamed her for a series of embarrassing failures for the PDNY put aside his differences to unite with the new Kingpin, Frank Castle, who had once hoped to recruit Spider-woman to his cause. The final member, Harry Osborne, spent years away from New York training to take vengeance on the hero he blamed for his best friend's death, combined with the vast resources of OsCorp. Originally a private agreement, this triumvirate eventually became a public force in New York, wielding increasingly large political power to achieve their end. Harry's eventual plan, involving the use of a Super-Collider to punch through to realities where living, and superpowered, Peter Parker's may reside, is the plot which resulted in Gwen being stranded in this reality. Gwen has little idea of what now occurs back home, but the Trio continue to exert influence across that alternate New York.
Make The Most Of It: Gwen hasn't been in this version of New York to establish her own identity or true rivals, but already the whispers of a new crimefighter herald her presence on the scene. She's starting small, but once she's sure her presence isn't about to cause any sort of dimensional collapse, she's going to come out swinging.
S A M P L E P O S T:
“Ow Ow Ow……Hey EmmJay”
It wasn’t every day you had your face bashed up against a scaled up LED version of your best friend’s face, plus a decade or so, while trying to fight a slightly wrong version of one of your longest running enemies. Not every day, but definitely this day.
Gwen only had a moment to give her greetings to the large advertisement of her frontwoman’s face before she was bouncing away from it, propelled by the force of the impact. It was an embarrassing hit, even with spider sense to warn her, she’d been rather distracted by the revelation her roommate of days gone past was apparently now a movie star. Still, radioactive spider enhanced endurance meant that she’d recovered before she struck the ground, pirouetting through the air to land in a crouch.
“Your movements are fluid, a dancer then, that is new.” The voice carried over the sound of the city all around them as a gust of rushing wind brought the Vulture down close by. Not her Vulture, but definitely still ‘a’ Vulture.’
“Yeah well, these glutes didn’t come out of the Spider too.” Gwen snapped back as she was already moving, a handstand spring forward as winged villain landed, launching over his head as he did so. Two strands of webs fired out from his hands, momentary linking the Vulture’s suit by wing tips to ground. The strands held for long enough for her to complete her landing with a kick to the back of the man’s head, sending him sprawling forwards. “I can recommend a work out plan, because even for you, you look like you might need a bit of a health check, Adrian.” It was true enough. ‘Her’ Adrian might have literally had red eyes, but this one looked like he’d aged his whole life all again at once.
The Vulture was quick to recover though, the momentum of their fall turning into their own roll, before launching into the air in a spear tackle towards her. “New, but just as annoying.” He snarled with grim purpose.
“Well, I wouldn't want to disappoint.” She was already aware of the presence of an alternate ‘her’ in an established hero donning the spider motif, Gwen presumed this was what the Vulture referred to as she dove to the side, the motion turning into a forward roll as she spun back onto her feet, just in time to launch another pair of strands to add to her building web binding the Vulture to the ground. It was already beginning to prevent him from lifting off in full, just a little longer and she could probably wrap this up.
There was a frustration to his movement and actions which suggested more than just her wit getting under his skin, he seemed surprised at the effectiveness of the webbing. Perhaps a different formula, some things would have to be different in this place, no matter how it still looked like her city.
“I don’t know how you know him….but I’ll make you regret this.” The wizened Vulture snapped, lunging out for her once more. This time she slipped under him, two further lashings of web now to his ankles as she did, an incoming trip as she swung out the other end and the Vulture crashed forwards.
“Would you believe me if I said we’re entirely unrelated?”
The muffled sound from beneath the collapsed form of the Vulture certainly sounded like it was closer to a negative.
“Fair enough I suppose…Well…you sit there. I’m sure someone’s noticed this by now.” It would be hard to consider otherwise, Gwen had been swinging around the city, getting her bearings, when the Vulture had struck, possibly confusing her for ‘this place’ counterpart from a distance. A very public mid air crash sending her spiraling into a neon glowing advertisement was hardly a subtle start to a brawl. She didn’t have the best relationship with the PDNY back home, she somewhat doubted her ability to explain her situation to law enforcement here either. “Stay in school, Adrian!” She called out before zipping away, well before the ubiquitous sirens of New Yrok drew closer.
She’d already decided she needed to find a way to rent these Jackpot films.
The only issue was she doubted her credit card was interdimensional.
Edward Brock/Venom ♦ Symbiote ♦ Alphabet City, East Village ♦
C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:
"WE AR BONDED, EDDIE. IN DEATH, ONLY WILL WE PART."
Edward 'Eddie' Brock sought religion, as he had always done, for forgiveness before he went through with his plan. After being laid off from the Daily Bugle and realizing his future had been destined for failure, he wandered into Our Lady of Saints Church for a final prayer before intending to commit suicide. Instead, he encountered an alien presence that bonded with him in body and mind, driven by hatred and despair for both Spider-Man and Peter Parker. And what emerged for that church was a revitalized man fueled by venom for the vigilante webhead and his former work rival. For four long years, this relentless campaign swept through the streets of New York City, unleashing a wave of fear and terror that targeted not just him but those he held dear. But the spite was starting to run dry as it was a constant cycle of bitter violence. That was around the time when Carnage arrived.
Carnage was a terrifying creature, the ultimate killer driven by an insatiable bloodlust. Eddie and the symbiote initially planned on neutralizing them to learn about their origins, but they were overwhelmed and witnessed harm coming to Eddie's former fiancée, Anne Weying. Desperate for vengeance, they turned to the web-slinger for assistance in stopping the other symbiote. And in the end, in an act to protect Parker's loved ones, Venom tackled Carnage into a fire that seemingly killed both of them. But that wasn't the case. They found themselves washed up on the shores of Massachusetts. Instead of returning to New York, Eddie and the symbiote embarked on a journey of healing and redefining their future—one rid of the malign and despair that brought them together.
Now, after a decade away, hiding away from the world had become tiresome as the march of time was leaving its mark.
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:
Venom had always been one of the favorite comic superheroes to read as well as write about. I wanna focus on an older, somewhat mature Venom/Eddie who finally took the time to reflect on his behavior and decided to return home. At the same time, I was sorta inspired by the three-issue run of Venom: On Trial and the six-issue Venom: Lethal Protector. Additionally, I wanna be able to mesh well with Spider-Man, too, thus being older.
C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:
Anne Weying: Ever since her encounter with Carnage, Anne moved out of New York City in favor of San Francisco to move on with her life from the incident. Eddie tried to rekindle their friendship years, but it was better for them to maintain the distance.
Carl Brock: Somehow, the old bastard was still breathing and living relatively comfortably. Eddie hasn't talked to his father since being told how much of a disgrace he had become after getting laid off. The two haven't met since that night.
Carlton Drake: A billionaire who created the Life Foundation, an organization dedicated to safeguarding its ultra-rich clientele in the event of societal collapse. He is willing to spend much to achieve the ideal security system for himself and his clients.
Roland Treece: Another billionaire who founded Treece International, a construction corporation, and a client and investor of the Life Foundation. His company recently secured a lucrative contract with the city to sweep homeless encampments.
Patricia Tilby: Talented television reporter and investigative journalist made famous for her coverage of gentrification in District X that exclusively targeted the mutated population. Recently, she began investigating the underground homeless community.
S A M P L E P O S T:
VENOM
LIBERTY STATE PARK, JERSEY CITY
HOMECOMING
Home stood before them, with the New York City skyline remarkably unchanged from a decade since their departure. The moment Eddie Brock laid eyes on the city, a whirlwind of emotions came flooding in all at once—bittersweet memories previously subdued emerged with vivid intensity. He swallowed it all up and resisted the urge to rip up his ferry ticket on the spot and run back to some hidey-hole where he could quietly fade away from the world. Yet, deep down, he knew he had to carry out the choice he'd made, no matter how idiotic it seemed. But more importantly, there was someone else in his life he couldn't readily ignore.
That cost ten bucks, Eddie. Consider that before you rip it up.
The familiar, powerful growl reverberated within him, providing a sense of much-needed warmth. Admittedly, their relentless presence was jarring at first, their voice always looming, ready to assert itself or chime in with their thoughts all of a sudden. More often than not, it was the burden of negative emotions that fueled their commentary, turning them more bloodthirsty and fierce. It took the brink of death for Eddie to realize how much it had become a problem entirely, and it took years of tumultuous coexistence for him and the symbiote to finally carve out an understanding. Though even after all that, insatiable cravings still lingered, especially for indulgent delights such as double chocolate cake.
We take offense at that inaccurate statement; they rumbled, with a sharp yet playful edge to their tone.
"Noted," Eddie quipped, drawing a baffled glance from a stranger reading a newspaper. He shrugged it off; he was well-acquainted with the quizzical reactions that came his way whenever he spoke aloud in public. At first, it had gnawed at him enough to make the symbiote morph some earphones, just so he could talk openly without being assumed weird. But as time passed and his bond with them deepened, the stares and whispers faded into mere background noise.
Just then, his phone vibrated in his pocket, and a notification flashed on the screen: the ferry to Manhattan would arrive at the port in five minutes. Eddied tucked his phone away and took a deep breath, ready to embrace whatever awaited him on the other side. Perhaps, once settled, he'd celebrate the occasion with that double chocolate cake; it seemed fitting, although the mere thought alone made him groan a little for some reason.
