[CHAR] CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

[Blue Demon]

Deathcry

Abilities

Alien Biology Deathcry is a warrior of the shi'ar race. While humanoid in appearance they greatly differ in Biology. The main differences are increased stamina, super-strength, durability, enchanced senses and their talons.

Increased Stamina: Shi'ar can far exceed human levels of stamina. When the average human is collapsing with exhaustion the average Shi'ar is only mildly winded.

Super-strength: An average Shi'ar can lift around one ton on Earth.

Durability: All Shi'ar have lightweight hollow bones. However this does not mean they are very breakable. They can take more punishment then your average human.

Enhanced Senses: All Shi'ar have superior sight, smell, taste, hearing, etc. It's not at superhuman levels but far more than your average human.

Talons: All Shi'ar have talons on the ends of their fingers and toes. They grow naturally and most Shi'ar care for them and sometimes even paint them like humans.

Origin And Backstory

Deathcry was born Sharra Neramani. Her first name was never used in any company for it was the name of one of the most revered deities in Shi'ar culture. Instead she went by her last name or Nera. She was raised as a commando. She never knew her parents. She did know she was somehow related to the ruling family. This caused a lot of animosity among the other younglings in her clutch that were undergoing the same training. Nera always felt as if she had something to prove to the others. And she proved her right to be there through rage and violence. She quickly escalated up the ranks and became the best earning her commando name Deathcry. For she when unleashed her warcry her opponent died. After her induction to the commandos she went only by her new name.

Becoming a commando didn't mean everything was now happy for Deathcry. She still struggled to prove her worth and most of the other commandos did not want anything to do with her. The few exceptions became her closest friends. The most important to Deathcry was Casnal, her lover. The two had been part of the same clutch and had become commandos together. Their relationship was rocky and rather tenuous, but Deathcry clung to it with both hands. Perhaps this was her undoing. For when Casnal's other lover, a normal thing in Shi'ar culture, decided to insult Casnal and prey on Deathcry's insecurities during a meal, she flew into a rage. By the time the rest of the commandos had pulled her off her victim he was dead.

After the other commandos determined that Casnal's other lover was in fact dead, they put Deathcry under guard. There she remained until two of the Imperial Guards arrived. Wordlessly they took Deathcry to the council house. There the Majestrix decreed that Deathcry was to be stripped of her birthname and to be exiled. Without any fanfare Deathcry was promptly placed on an outgoing ship. They abandoned her on an unknown planet (at least to Deathcry) with nothing but the clothes on her back and her wits.

What Makes This Character 'Ultimate'?

I'm pretty much remaining Deathcry from the ground up. They only things that remain are her family relations, her species and her reason for exile. Everything else is taken and changed for my own enjoyment and hopefully everyone else's too. Some of the changes I made really focus on the character as an individual. She's just been exiled and is alone and adrift in a harsh universe. I want her to grow and change, not at all what happened in the comics. I want her to move past her rage and anger and become something more then just a soldier and killer.

Supporting Characters

Deathbird/Cal'syee Neramani - Unknown to Deathcry, Cal'syee is her mother. As Deathbird she is a villain currently on Earth working with A.I.M. due to her advanced technical knowledge.

Lilandra Neramani - Aunt to Deathcry. She is also Majestrix of the Shi'ar Empire.

D'Ken Neramani - Uncle to Deathcry. He is currently comotose. He was formerly Magestor.

Nightscream/Casnal Tregnar - Deathcry's best friend and lover.

Sample Post

The blood of Nera's enemies made the ground slick under her combat boots. The screams, both of pain and of joy, echoed around her. Her own cries filled the air as she cut down another rebel. Nera didn't know who these small vaguely humanoid felines were. Or even what their planet's name was. The only thing that mattered to the commando-in-ttaining was that she was to eliminate the threat they posed to the Empire.

"Left!" Casnal's cry sounded over Nera's earpiece. A few lasers hit her force field as she turned her head to just in time to see Casnal's own personal force field falter under an onslaught of heavy weapon fire.

"Casnal!" Nera's heart nearly leapt into her throat as rage reddened her sight. How dare these creatures rebel against the Empire? Against them? She swallowed down another scream as she formulated a plan. There was a small sound from her own personal force field. Nera, without taking her eyes off Casnal and the other Shi'ar with her, lashed out with her short blade. The sound of death caused a small smile to twist her lips. Served it right.

Nera lifted her eyes to the sky as she activated her tracking system. An UAD would be overhead soon. With rapid eye movements she was able to gain access to its piloting system. They HUD intrinsicly knew what Nera needed after being partnered together for so long. Sentience in technology definitely had it's perks.

The UAD fired upon the rebels and their last Harrah. They had no chance against the the aircraft. The energy weapons cut right through the stone bunker. Something internally caught fire and the whole base exploded. The heat rushed over Nera's force field and she was never so grateful for it in that moment.

As the heatwave dissipated Nera hurried over to Casnal. She was distantly aware of the small furry rebels surrendering. Others in her squad were also providing assistance to the formerly besieged Shi'ar. However Casnal took up all of Nera's attention.

"You okay?" Nera asked gruffly. As if she hadn't just been concerned her best friend was going to the.

Casnal smiled. Her purple skin was smudged with some ash hut she was still beautiful. "I'm good. Thank you."

Nera snorted. "Next time I'm leaving your sorry ass to die." She leveled a finger at her friend. "You idiots deserved it today for letting yourselves get pin-"

Nera was cut off as Casnal pressed her mouth to hers. "Thank you." Casnal repeated before she turned and headed toward the field commander. Nera remained in place, stunned, for a long second before her brain kicked back into gear.

"Casnal!" She cried as she hurried after her friend and maybe soon to be lover.

[Nib]

The Magnificient

Character You're Applying For:
Pietro Maximoff (Quicksilver)
Jean Grey (Miss Marvel)
Scott Summers (Cyclops)
Tara Markov (Terra)
Garfield Logan (Beast Boy)
Jubilation Lee (Jubilee)

Powers And Abilities:
With this X-Force team, I want them to be young adults around the age of 18-20 and so their powers are at their basic level with only some years of training behind them. At this stage, they have remained hidden and have not had any field practice as actual heroes. The only training they’ve had with their powers has been within the walls of the Xavier Institute. Throughout this game, they will come out of the shadows as heroes and train further with their powers as they do, all the while dealing with anti-mutant individuals and groups.

Origin And Backstory (In A Maximum Of Four Paragraphs):
Charles Xavier and Max Eisenhardt met when they were both still young men. Max was a victim of the Holocaust at a young age and was experimented on ruthlessly by Nazi scientists when they found out he was a mutant. They kept him heavily medicated and only partially conscious . He was eventually able to escape from his torment and immediately began using his powers to fight back against the men persecuting his people. He would often stoop to his enemy’s level in his crusade. While Max fought and struggled, Charles Xavier was pampered and studied his own mutant powers and how they came about. He was eventually approached by the United States government for his powers as well as his expertise. He worked with the government to clean up after incidents involving mutants. Through his work, he learned about Max and his fight against the Nazi party. By this time, Max had his own small band of guerilla fighters, some with their own powers. As the U.S. entered the war, they joined with Max’s forces. With Xavier’s help, they kept the aid of super-powered individuals a secret. Max was unhappy with this outcome but was convinced by Charles to work with the government for the betterment of both mutantkind and other super-powered individuals in need of aid.

For years they worked at this task, with Charles using his powers to erase memories on a massive scale to keep the secret, especially due to Max’s rather violent and extreme tactics in the field. Because of this, Max was kicked from the program. With Max went other individuals, Raven Darkholme among them, and they formed their own band of supers. They focused on fighting against people they deemed evil. Their activities created more work for Charles and his abilities. This continued for years, and Charles slowly stepped back from the program and focused more on educating the younger generation dealing with their powers. As he grew in age, Charles’ powers waned until he was unable to comply with the government and perform another mass memory wipe, and thus individuals with powers became common knowledge. With that, Charles was let go from the program.

Fully away from the program, Charles was able to focus solely on educating the younger generation. Eventually, he crossed paths with Max again. Without the government being involved, Max was more willing to listen to his old friend and agree to join him in his goal to educate the younger generation. Raven Darkholme was lost to the wind by this point. There were many disagreements as the partnership was begun anew, mostly with allowing the students to enter the field with the other super-powered individuals. Charles was still hesitant because of the government, but Max believed the students could help people in need. The stalemate lasted for a while, but as Charles’ health got worse and he was bedridden he agreed to let the older students into the field under Max’s supervision and the condition that they would not operate as violently and extreme as his guerilla fighters had in the past. Knowing his friend did not have long left in this world, Max agreed to his conditions.

The first field team would be christened “X-Force” and be made up of: Pietro Maximoff, Jean Grey, Scott Summers, Tara Markov, Garfield Logan, and Jubilation Lee. Pietro came to the Xavier Institute for Gifted Children with his father, Max, and has been made the field team leader. Jean was one of many students found by Charles and has become his personal student because of the nature of her powers, though her telepathic abilities have been suppressed for years by Charles. With his health getting worse, he must focus all of his remaining power on keeping her powers in check until she can fully control them. Scott was found by Charles and Henry McCoy after an incident with his powers going unchecked; this was one of the last times Charles was able to perform a mass memory wipe and take Scott into his school to help him. Tara and Garfield were transient teens hiding away because of their powers, but they were found and brought in by Henry. Jubilation Lee was one of the lucky ones and found the school as her powers began showing and was able to avoid incident. Their goal as the X-Force is to help people in need and find those individuals with powers and mutations who live on the fringe of society in hiding and give them a home and a safe place to learn how to control their powers.

What Makes This Character 'Ultimate'?:
I think these characters will have interesting interactions together as they grow as heroes. What makes them ultimate is how they must overcome bigotry thrown at them by the people they work to save as they also try to make the world a better place for their own kind. This team is also led by Quicksilver with Xavier and Magneto acting as mentors along with Henry/Hank McCoy.

Supporting Characters:
Max Eisenhardt (Magneto) - The current supervisor of the X-Force field team and long friend of Charles Xavier. Max recently joined the Institute to help younger individuals learn to control their powers and help those in need.
Charles Xavier - Founder and current head of Xavier Institute for Gifted Children.
Henry McCoy - Henry is also known as Hank or Beast. He is a mutant and friend to Charles and has been with the school since its founding. He has a genius-level intellect and develops the team’s tools and gadgets.
Danny the World - Danny is a sentient brick able to construct buildings and streets around him because of his unique physiology. Danny is Xavier Institute and has constructed the entire campus and its building from his main brick. He is able to communicate telepathically with those on campus. He is also able to transport his main brick and others to different locations around the globe; when he does so he is able to maintain the structures of the campus and so acts as the field team’s mode of transportation.

Character Picture:

Quicksilver

Miss Marvel

Cyclops

Terra

Beast Boy

Jubilee

Sample Post

”Pull!”

The green-furred gorilla spun around like an olympic thrower and let a clay disc fly; it was wearing a primarily white suit with black trim placed in a way to form a massive ‘X’ across its chest . Through his visor, Scott saw everything tinted in red, but that wasn’t anything new to him. Even the glasses Hank made especially for him had to be tinted red to hold the beams back. What was new was the assisted aiming and crosshair sight Hank outfitted the visor with. The crosshairs moved slightly within the visor and gave him a readout of the disc’s drop speed and the approximate moment to fire. When the sight lit up green, Scott pressed in on the button located in the center of the dial on the side of the visor. In midair the clay disc was struck with a beam of red energy and shattered. The gorilla clapped and spun around, grunting loudly. A moment later, it was replaced by a young man with green skin, cheering and clapping; the suit shrank down to match his body size. Another invention of Hank’s to aid the newly formed and approved field team.

”Yeah-ha! Nice shot, Scott! I mean… Cyyyclops!”

”Thanks, Gar. You’re getting the hang of shifting faster.”

”Thanks, man. And, it’s Beast Boy.”

A silver blur flew past the pair, kicking up a gust and rustling their hair. Pietro turned his head slightly as he rushed past Scott and Garfield. The amazing goggles Hank made for him were similar to Scott’s visor and allowed him to track targets around him even at high speed. They also served the purpose of acting as safety glasses to keep debris and the wind from hitting his eyes as he sped around and were even tinted to keep any glare off. Along with the goggles, Hank designed his suit to be resistant to the high rate of speed as well as have some extra cushioning and protection to his body. At the corner after passing his friends, Pietro skidded to a halt and reached down to grab a towel and water bottle. He dabbed at his forehead and neck before squirting some water into his mouth.

”Lookin’ good, P!”

Gar whooped and swung a fist around in the air. Pietro waved a hand at him with a smirk as he cracked his neck a few times. He’d have to mention to Hank to try and add a little more cushioning to the neck area and maybe some sort of cooling factor.

”Okay. Run Course 3.”

“Voice recognition: Pietro Maximoff… Confirmed. Running Course 3.”

The floor of the training room immediately began shifting and changing. Scott and Garfield left through the door leading up to the observation room to give Pietro some room. As they left, he stretched his legs and arms out briefly before taking off. In an instant he was a silver blur again, untraceable by the human eye. He beelined for a path between two shifting pillars of metal. The instant he clear them, the floor panel fell away, but with the goggles helping him track everything around him he was able to clear the gap in the floor. The moment his foot touched the ground, he was off again. A wall of pillars shot up from the floor, and he weaved around them then spun around a pillar that shot down from the ceiling. Pietro continued weaving through the shifting floor and ceiling.

From the observation room, Hank McCoy and Max Eisenhardt watched the silver blur dash around the room. Scott and Gar joined them a moment later. The computers tracked every team member’s vitals through their suits, and Hank watched them with interest. He read the numbers flashing across the many screens and muttered to himself as he crouched in his chair and chewed lightly on his glasses. Max, on the other hand, stood by the window and watched the blur down below.

”Hey, Doc McCoy, how fast is he going right now?”

Hank snapped himself out of his thoughts and turned his blue, fur-covered face toward the green youth.

"Ah, Garfield. His speed varies as he turns and ducks, but he accelerates back up the moment he's past an obstacle. On average, however, he's running around three hundred miles per hour. He's achieved faster in a straight test in a more open environment, but this test is simply for reaction time and to see how he does in more enclosed spaces."

”Uh… huh. Cool.”

Scott smirked as Gar’s face fell into a more confused look. He joined Magneto at the window and watched the silver blur rush through the shifting room. Max had a far away look on his face as he looked on. Meanwhile, Garfield had wandered away from Hank and over to the other viewing window overlooking the training room next door. Below, he could see Tara, Jubilee, and Jean training and testing their own suits out. Tara’s eyes flashed yellow as she reached out toward the mound of rocks the training room had produced for her. Pieces of the earth flew around her and launched at Jean. As the pieces sailed through the air at a high speed, Jean reached out with her mind and grabbed hold of several loose objects near her and used them to batter the pieces of earth away and deflect a few toward Jubilee with an extra push from her mind, her eyes flashing pink for a moment. Jubilee watched all five crosshairs light green from behind her own visor and let the energy building up in her fingertips go. From her hands came bright flashes and sparks of multi-colored light. The gloves Hank made her held up against the energy buildup as well as the release of energy. Each bolt of light slammed into a piece of debris or earth and shattered them before they could hit her.

The announcement had come yesterday that the six students training in the two rooms conjoined by the observation deck would be the first field team from Xavier’s Institute for Gifted Children. With the public’s discovery of the superhuman came those who would use their power against the public and cause terror. There were also those with power who stepped up to fight against them, and the X-Force team would be apart of those individuals now. After some intense training and tests they would be cleared by Charles Xavier and Max to enter the field. Of course, Magneto would be their supervisor in the field, and Pietro would act as the team lead. The goal, aside from helping those people in need and to find super-powered individuals living on the fringes of society and give them a place to belong, was for the team to further learn how to control their powers and for Max to eventually be able to let them into the field led solely by Pietro.

[DocTachyon]

Vigilante

Ultimate One Universe: Year One Application

Character You're Applying For: Greg Saunders; Vigilante

Powers And Abilities:
Spirit of Vengeance- After surviving his experience in Hell, Vigilante has found himself possessed by the Spirit of Vengeance, thus making him the current Ghost Rider, though he has trouble controlling it once he does change. These abilities are extremely new to Vig, he does not yet fully understand the scope of his responsibilities as the spirit. Vigilante can transform into his Ghost Rider form through concentration, or he can be forced into it during life threatening situations. In this form, Vigilante becomes a skeletal version of himself, and his body, clothing, and motorcycle are wreathed in hellfire. While in this state, he is a degree faster, stronger, and more durable than any average man; and his motorcycle is much faster than an average bike. Additionally, his lariat dramatically increases in length, and is itself wreathed in hellfire. His guns can also fire hellfire bullets. The last ability this form grants is a signature ‘Penance Stare’. He can finish a sufficiently weakened opponent by staring into the depths of their very soul, forcing them to see and feel the pain they’ve inflicted upon others for eternity. Vig suspects this form may have more abilities, but he has yet to discover them.

Gunslinger- Even during his time as a normal man, Greg Saunders had a knack for his pistols. He was never masterful, but he more than knew his way around the range, and was certainly the best pistolero in Warpath. Since his time in Hell, Vigilante’s skills have sharpened a hundredfold. He hasn’t had much of a chance to test it, but Vig now reckons he’s one of the best marksmen in the world. He carries six revolvers on him, two on the front of his hips, two on the back, and two on his chest(Edward Kenway style).

Whipfighter- Vigilante had experience with his whip when he was alive, but being constantly knee deep in demons teaches a man to use every tool at his disposal. He’s grown very precise with his lariat, able to even reliably grab and throw objects with it. A few times he’s managed to use it to wrestle a weapon out of a demon’s hands.

Grease Monkey- Vigilante’s passion, before his life went to Hell(literally) was working on his motorcycle. He’s a little rusty, since he didn’t have much time for motorbike repair in Hell, but he’s excited to soup up his ride for his new responsibilities.

Origin And Backstory (In A Maximum Of Four Paragraphs):

Greg Saunders, on some level, always suspected that Warpath, Texas, was never meant for human habitation. There was an always has been a certain amount of strange to the place. Being born there, Greg would know that better than anybody. It was like a black hole to the curious and the supernatural -- always drawing them in. All the street corners had another magician who could tell your future for a dime, and every time the circus was in town, it was stranger than the last. The way his Pop described it, Warpath was a place where Hell and Heaven became kissing cousins, where reality and fictions bled together until you couldn’t tell ‘em apart no more. Greg always figured his Dad was joking around with him. Nothing stranger happened in Warpath than it would in any of the big cities. Greg would’ve been mostly right. Until things really started to get weird.

Sheriff Mort Saunders was just about the best Cop on the force, and the only one that really gave a shit. Things had a way of sorting themselves out in Warpath. Most of the offenses were just hack magicians trying to sell themselves on the mystique of the place, and swindle people out of their money. Anything worse than that was usually just petty crime. Anything that there was evidence of, anyhow. Reports would always come in from time to time. Murder, robbery, you name it; but when the Police would roll up, there’d be no evidence. Just ghosts and echoes. By the time Greg was nearing his twenty first birthday, Mort started mentioning a ‘New Case’ to him. Something that would ‘explain everything’. Six months later, he turned up dead in the first confirmed murder in the last twenty-five years of Warpath’s history. Greg took up Pop’s old revolvers and his whip, intent on delivering revenge to the sonsabitches who did this to his father. He swore on his grave to dedicate his life to the path of justice. The life of the Vigilante. The newly christened Vig spent two months tracking down and systematically eliminated a gang of bandits. As he worked his way through the higher ranking members, it was slowly becoming clearer and clearer that this was no ordinary Gang. It was a cult, devoted to finding something they called ‘The Miracle Mesa’. Vig never knew much about magic, but as he rolled up on the Cult for the final showdown, he could feel the air draw thinner. The closer he drew to them, the more he felt in a waking dream. The very reality around him seemed to pulsate with a kind of power, as if being touched by a force beyond mortal comprehension. It was around then that everything went to Hell.

Vigilante can still not accurately recall precisely what took place that day. In the face of the Miracle Mesa, reality peeled away, and all that was left was a nonsensical jangle of ideas, colors, feelings, and raw magic. What he does remember is bits and pieces. He remembers a blob of color, high in the sky, like you’d asked an abstract expressionist to design a city. He remembers emptying his pistols over and over again, shooting rounds into unholy abominations that spilled out of what seemed to be a hole in the world. What he remembers most of all is that he woke up in a place wholly unfamiliar to him, knee deep in demons.

Much like Warpath, Hell was… Unsuited to mortals, if Vigilante was still a mortal at all. God knows if he was dragged there through the Miracle Mesa, or if the demons spilling out of the thing killed him and brought him here. The one thing Vig knew for sure was that he had to get out. His experience of Hell was like a cryptic, corrupted version of the mortal plane. Everything was inverted, a perversion of itself. Everywhere was a veritable Sodom and Gomorrah, and just about all of the locals wanted him dead. In time, he found his pack. Six others who the Miracle Mesa had dragged in: Shining Knight, Jonah Hex, Johnny Frankenstein, Crimson Avenger, The Star Spangled Kid, and of course, good ol’ Stripsey. Time is a murky thing in Hell. They might’ve spent six months or a thousand years waging war on every manner of Demon and Monster they could find. However long it took them, on their way to demand passage out of the land of the damned from the Sultan of Sin himself, they ran across a demonic entity by the name of Mephisto. Mephisto’s bargain was simple: Safe passage out of Hell for Vig and all of his friends; in return for his mortal soul. By now The Seven Soldiers had learned a handful of lessons about survival in Hell. “Don’t deal with demons” was at the top of the list. In a pitched battle that lasted either a half hour or a month, the Soldiers, most of whom had all their limbs broken, were reasonably certain they’d hurt Mephisto. At least a tiny bit. Entirely beaten and with no other options, Vigilante stood up to the plate and laid down his soul, thus making him into Mephisto’s pawn, the Spirit of Vengeance. The current Ghost Rider. Now returned to Warpath, Vig and the Soldiers are planning their vengeance on Mephisto, and are seeking any magical help they can get. As Vig swore on his father's grave: Justice will be done.

What Makes This Character 'Ultimate'?:
This version of Vigilante alters his traditional origins, instead placing him in Warpath from the get-go. The idea here is to blend elements from many different versions of the character; literally the Ultimate edition. The main difference from those standard runs is its heavy focus on Saunders’ time in hell, which was otherwise just a bit of narration in a Jimmy Olsen comic. This version takes major inspiration from the raw weird that was Grant Morrison’s 7 Soldiers. There’s also the introduction of the Ghost Rider elements, which I did both to strengthen the idea of the DC and Marvel connection going on in this universe, but also to boost Vigilante’s power level, so he’s no slouch around some of the heavy hitters being brought in for this(as traditional Vig is just a grease monkey who is good with guns). On top of that, it lets Vig lean into the weird/supernatural that surrounds Hell and the West more effectively.

Supporting Characters:
Shining Knight - A medieval Knight encountered in Hell. He stumbled across the Miracle Mesa while battling with Morgan Le Fay. He swears he owned a winged horse by the name of Winged Victory, and thinks it must be alive somewhere in the world.

Jonah Hex - 1800's Bounty Hunter that Vig met in Hell. He ran into the Miracle Mesa while tracking down a Bounty.

Frankenstein - Another person Vigilante encountered in Hell. He stumbled into the Miracle Mesa sometime in the late 1700s.

Crimson Avenger - The first man Vigilante encountered in Hell. Small time hero of the early 1940s. He typically did things quietly enough that neither SHIELD nor CADMUS came down on him. While tracking down a case, he encountered the Miracle Mesa.

Star Spangled Kid and Stripsey - Star Spangled Kid, former sidekick to Captain America, and his sidekick Stripsey themselves stumbled onto Miracle Mesa themselves in the late 1940’s, and have been in Hell since. That is, until Vig sprung them.

Billy Gunn - Old family friend and current Sheriff of Warpath.

Mephisto - Technically, Mephisto is Vigilante’s current Boss. The demon is responsible for his Ghost Rider abilities and his escape from Hell.

Sample Post:

The Ranchero of Miracle Mesa - Part One

Vigilante could always feel it behind his eyes. The burning. The anger. It was like a little demon that lived in his head, constantly stabbing his eyes and his brain. Always screaming.

“VENGEANCE MUST BE DONE.” If he listened close he could constantly hear the click-clack of his own bones. The sound was whispered into his ear by some kind of unseen entity. Vig supposed it was Mephisto’s way of taunting him. He hoped the Demon Lord got enough satisfaction out of it before his head got turned into chunky salsa.

Vig leaned back in his rocker, polishing his pistols for the umpteenth time. He should’ve been the one to go, but according to Frank, he was best equipped to handle it if some creepy crawly clawed its way up to the surface. In his heart, Vig knew it too. But hell, maybe they were just protecting him from himself, Houston hadn’t been fine. A simple operation to wrassle a coupla Occult Books outta’ the hands of some gangbangers that didn’t know what the fuck they were turned into hellfire and screams of the damned. By contrast there wasn’t much to wake that thing in Warpath.

Hex said he’d seen it once before. The old man was tracking down a gang of outlaws led by a bandit by the name of White Face. The way Hex told it, by the time he rode up with his big iron, the whole place was burnin’ to the ground. Now, this was one of them old Frontier towns. Everything was down one long single road. Every one of the gang was laid at over the place. Sticking outta shop windows, gutted open on the glass. Speared through on a cracked post. Some of ‘em were burnin’ with the buildings. Even from a distance, Hex could see the thousand yard stares on some of the bodies. Weren’t no man that did this to them.

Way down, at the end of that long road, Hex could see White Face himself. The mask was burned away an’ his face was singed. Whatever the hell was holding him up by his neck wasn’t human, and certainly wasn’t no creature of God. Its skin was all burned away, an’ all that was left was a white skull coated in hellfire. Hex had killed many a man in his time, but he’d never seen no one beg like White Face begged that day. Hex ‘imself never got a good look at its proper face. Musta been something horrible, to make a rough sonuvabitch like White Face sob his goddamn eyes out. It was hard for Hex to see quite right at all that distance, but at some point White Face stopped struggling. He just stared through. His eyes were locked right on that skull, but they seemed to be gone for a million miles.

That was the only bounty Hex ever abandoned. He figured The Devil had come to collect his dues before mortal men got the chance, and that was a-okay with him.

On the horizon, Vig could see a dust cloud. The first to return. He holstered his pistol and drew himself out of his rocker. He tried to ignore the gnawing sensation in the back of his mind. Out of the dust, a figure cloaked in red slowly materialized. He was riding on a white steed -- that guy would never get used to motorcycle, even as Vig’s insistence.

The Crimson Avenger was the first man Vigilante had encountered in Hell. He seemed someone of solid principle, devoted to his cause -- Not unlike Vig’s father. Vig stood in the street. He wiped his hands and waved to his coming friend.

“Woah, nelly.” Crimson called out to his horse. They slowed on approach.

“Get whatcha’ needed, pardner?” Vig extended a hand to help him down from the horse.

“Yep. Now, we’ll probably have to modify the thing to make it suitable for combat down there…” Crimson took the hand and jumped down from his horse. He had a silver case attached to him at the hip.

“I’m just happy to have a fresh model of the old girl, again,” The Crimson Avenger opened the case and pulled out a gas gun -- it gleamed in the sunlight, “been too long.”

“Can’t imagine what that feelin’s like. Three years realtime was long enough fer me to be away from my bike.” Vigilante gestured to the second rocker. The Avenger nodded and obliged.

“So, what’s the word, Avenger?” Vig kicked up his legs and leaned back into the chair. The simple pleasures would be few, now. Had to do his best to enjoy them before it came time for the real war to start.

“Well, Knight, Hex, and Frankenstein are still trying to get themselves accustomed to the modern world. They were going to head up to the New York and Metropolis area to see what’s to see. They were planning on looking into the local occult locations to see if they can scrounge up anything we don’t already know.” Crimson Avenger said. He took a seat in his rocker, taking the time to press out the folds and wrinkles in his costume. It was a thing of amazing construction -- it held up all the way through his time in Hell up to now.

“Mhm.” Vig said. He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled a cigarette. He considered it, for a moment. He felt the voice in his ear reaching out for his lighter, the call of the fire. He put the cig on the arm of the chair. “The Kid and Stripey have any word on Cap?”

The Crimson Avenger shook his head. The Star Spangled Kid had set out to find his old teacher -- Said he would’ve known it Cap had passed. The man was certain they would’ve heard tell of his passing or, God forbid, have seen him there. That meant he was out there somewhere, and hell, maybe he could be of service.

“Well Crimson, that jus means it’s you, me, and a long wait against whatever hand The Miracle Mesa deals us next. Cheers.”

Additional Notes:
-I tried my best, but I just couldn’t find the name of Vig’s Dad. But his original creators were both guys named Mort, so Mort Saunders was born.

-Why yes, yes I did ignore traditional paragraph rules and common sense in order to make my backstory fit the requirement. I really tried to keep it brief but most all of the details in there I thought were too important to cut out, and I really needed them to sell the concept.

Post Catalog:
Part One - The Ranchero of Miracle Mesa
Prelude
Strings; Issue 1
Strings; Issue 2
Strings; Issue 3
Strings; Issue 4
Strings; Issue 5; Finale
-
Riders on the Storm; Issue 1

[Hexaflexagon]

Name:

---

Natalia “Natasha” Alianovna Romanova / Наталья “Наташа” Алиановна Романова

Alias:

---

Black Widow / Чёрная вдова

Powers & Abilites

---

Наследи Кудрина:

Under the direction of famed Soviet geneticist ██████████ ██████████ ██████████, Natasha was injected with a Russian variant of the █████████ developed during Project: Rebirth used on ██████████. The serum when injected within the body provided enhanced ██████████, ████████████████████ as well as other ██████████ ██████████. These genetic augmentations have pushed Natasha far beyond the physical limits of an ordinary human being and has even slowed down her aging to a near standstill.

мокрое дело:

Hell wasn't some imaginary place for Natasha, no Hell was very real and was called the Красная комната. While some may argue about the ethics involved in the Red Room’s treatment of children, you couldn't argue with the results. In the world of espionage and wetwork, Natasha might as well of written the book. She’s skilled in several dozen ways to kill somebody from traditional CQC to firearms and everything in between. Beyond straight intimidation, she is well versed in various more subtle ways to gain information through ways such as cybersecurity and straight up seduction to name a few.

Железная воля:

Blades will not break her. Bullets will not break her. Words will not break her. Fear will not break her. Naturally of courageous disposition, the training she had undertaken and several lifetimes over of wetwork experience has bestowed upon Natasha an indomitable will.

Backstory:

---

According to official records, Natasha was born in █████, Russian SFSR in December of 19██. Natasha would early on find herself orphaned by the German Wehrmacht. Shortly after, she would be later spotted in the company of army captain named ██████ ██████████ ██████████. █████ was reportedly with Natasha up until atomic fire devastated Hiroshima and Nagasaki. ████ would start a successful post war-career working for the КГБ, and it was through here that ██████ ███████ ████████ of █████████ became aware of Natasha. Soon afterwards Natasha would be sent to ██████████ to begin her studies at the Красная комната.

Inducted into the fledgling рограмма ██████████████ Чёрная вдова. Natasha would soon enough become the program’s most promising test subject. During this time she also underwent intense genetic augmentation trials administered by ██████████ ██████████ ██████████, based upon ██████████ recovered by ███████ ██████████ from Project: Rebirth. Eventually in █████, Natasha was deemed ready by her handlers and would be sent into the field..

Natasha would soon find herself pursuing Soviet interests across the globe. Sightings of a red haired women matching her description first appeared in ███████, then ██████████, and within a month as far afield as ███████. Natasha is reported to have worked with some of the USSR’s greatests assists including:██████████ ██████████ ██████████ AKA “Rocket Red”, ██████████ ██████████ ██████████ AKA “Red Guardian”, and perhaps most interestingly ██████████ ██████████ ██████████ AKA “Winter Soldier”. During this time allied agents also reported having hostile engagements with her including: ████ ███████ ██████████ AKA King, and ███████ ████████ ██████ AKA Agent A-1.

After the collapse of the USSR in the late 1990s, Sightings of Natasha have decreased from their peak during the “Golden Years”. From what little information we have gathered, Romanova still works for the ФСБ in some capacity, through in apparently a much more limited fashion saving her deployment for only mission critical assignments. Recently though our eyes in ██████ have picked up sightings of her in ███████. Whatever the reason is, we can be sure that it definitely is not in our interest that she succeeds.

Known Associates:

---

►Ivan Petrovich Bezukhov - Deceased
► Dmitri Pushkin
► James Buchanan Barnes
► Kingsley 'King' Faraday
► Yulia Orlova
► Ava Anatalya Orlova

What Makes This Character 'Ultimate'?:

---

I always wanted Natasha the spy epic that she deserved; following wetwork missions, finding herself bit by bit. Yet to my great dismay, I was never able to really make it work. This time though I think I’ve found something that work. My idea is to pull a Last of Us, God of War, Logan, or perhaps my favorite Turner’s thread in Count Zero with Natasha and Ava. (Ava in this verse is a little older being fourteen years old. Also I’ve made her mother Yulia a runaway from the Black Widow Program and a close friend of Natasha.)

Ava will hopefully help facilitate character growth and lead me to more smooth transition to Natasha’s exit from the world of wetwork. Yet beyond that, I hope to use her as a sort of mirror for Natasha to reflect on and in turn reflect upon the themes I want to hit upon. Themes that are best summarized by quoting Faulkner “The past is never dead. It's not even past”. This Natasha is trapped by her past, haunted by it both figuratively and mentally.

And unlike in some tellings of her tale, she won’t crawl out of the quagmire because she fell head over heels for some boy. She’s going to have to do what she does best instead - fight for it.

Sample Post:

---

Alexi

The truth is, if old Morzh hadn’t firmly insisted upon his attendance Alexi would never have come to the Національна опера України at all. Alexi was not a member of those fortunate few born into money that could afford to be cultured. His father was a school teacher in a poor village outside of Luhansk and before that his family were mostly made up of simple farmers. He hadn’t been back home in some time, not since the establishment of the Luhansk People's Republic. A problem, if all was right in the world, he would of been dealing with. Instead he was to go to the godforsaken opera.

So there he was, face obscured by the tainted backseat window of his SUV, watching the slow procession of Kyiv traffic. To either side of him sat statuesque in their silence his two bodyguards: Bohdan and Ruslan. Both were dressed like him, fine suits with a concealed layer of kevlar underneath, and he knew that both carried ПКСКs tucked away in unseen holsters. Apparently the two of them had met doing mercenary work during the Second Chechen War. They, along with their two companions that rode in a secondary SUV with his wife Julija were a costly but much needed expense. People who disagreed with the Kremlin didn’t live long in Kiev these days.

It was just the other day after all that Vadzim was killed. Vadzim was a close friend of Ivan’s and worked alongside him in the Братство. They all knew when they started this endeavor that it was going to be dangerous work, but the loss still stuck with Alexi. He wasn’t even able to go to Vadzim funeral; whoever or whatever had killed his friend could still be out there. That was the main reason he agreed to this meeting with Morzh. The man used to run in some very interesting circles before the Collapse. Now everyone and their mother knew that if you needed information on anything or anyone you talked to Morzh.

“Sir, we have arrived.” announced a gruff rockslide of a voice that was Ruslan’s.

“Finally.”

With the efficiency of a well-oiled machine, Bohdan and Ruslan exited the vehicle first and checked the surroundings. When all was thought to be clear Bohdan’s meaty paw rapped against the window three times to signal Alexi to exit. His worn in boots touched upon the slickened sidewalk just outside the Oprea. It was a Wednesday Night, so the pedestrian traffic on Volodymyrska Street wasn’t too terrible, even so the small crowds that did move about made Alexi nervous. He turned to his right to sound of heels clicking against pavement to see Julija approach.

“Shall we head inside dear?” he asked through a forced smile.

“Let’s.” Julija replied as she smoothly hooked her arm with his and turned towards the entrance. Their retitutne of four now folowingly close in a loose square around them.

The National Opera House was an ornate affair. Built in the Neo-Renaissance style during the early 1900s, the building truly captured the image of a Ukraine that was at its cultural peak. In these modern times though the swooping architecture and the gilded accents stood in strange contrast to the world just outside. People died right outside on Volodymyrska either from violence or starvation everyday and parts of the country were still in open revolt, and yet the rich and famous still came to the opera. To be entrained, to be reminded about anything else besides the mess that they themselves were partially responsible for creating. Bread and circuses after all.

“Alexi!” a booming voice called.

Morzh could only be described in appearance, as closely resembling the Odobenus rosmarus, hence the nickname. A large man weighing over one hundred and thirty six kilograms and roughly six feet in height. His face, a consistent shade of flushed pink, was framed by a large red moustache that completely covered his mouth. He sat sprawled out atop a couch in the lobby like some sultan out of the Arabian Nights. Two female companions who were at least half his age sitting with him. He gestured over with a hand whose massive girth was closed around some glass of alcoholic beverage or another.

As Alexi approached Morzh, with a surprising amount of agility for a man his size, rose up to meet him and grasped him in a sweat caked hug.

“I’m so glad that you could make it!” proclaimed Morzh the blunted contours of his round face shifting as he did.

“Of course, anything for you my friend! Besides Julija was glad to have a break from the kids.”

“You woman must be some kind of witch! Three kids and you have a body like that!” Morzh joked as he gestured towards Julija who did her best to politely smile in return. Seemingly bored with the current topic he turned back to Alexi. “And we have a treat tonight! The say the young man playing Max is truly an astonishing sight to behold! He apparently have only just graduated from his classes at Leipzig!”

“You don’t say!” Alexi replied with feigned interest. “We better be going upstairs then! Don’t want to miss the show do we?”

Nodding in agreement, Morzh began to lead the couple up the stairs that lead to the upper levels. As Morzh went into finer details with Julija about the finer details of the upcoming production, Alexi noted the other men that soon began to follow them like hawks. These men were of course part of Morzh’s own private security entourage, and if the rumors Alexi heard were to be believed made up entirely of black ops types. Leading them up flight after flight, Morzh eventually turned left at a landing and lead them to his own private booth, the door already guarded by two more of his men. Julija and his female companions sat down in the row in front of them as Morzh gestured for Alexi to sit next to him in the back row.

From what Alexi had picked up during Morzh’s ranting to Julija, the performance that they were seeing tonight was about a marksman who makes a deal with the devil over magic bullets. A topic which given the current climate of things seemed a little too on the nose for Alexi’s tastes. It didn’t help win him over when he found out that the entire performance was going to be in German. Rolling his eyes as the lights dimmed and curtain opened he watched as the performers began to spin their yarn.

Roughly halfway through the first act, just as the leading man began his aria, Morzh turned his head ever so slightly towards Alexi.

“You did not come here just for your love of the arts Alexi.” his voice whispered with a hint of laughter.

“Is it really that obvious?”

“Yes but do not worry, I am not a man whose ego is easily offended.” Morzh replied with a grin. “I have looked into the “untimely” demise of your friend Vadzim”

“And?’ Alexi replied as he felt his heart pound against his chest.

“What do you know of the Red Room?” Morzh asked curiously.

“The fucking Baba Yaga breeding chamber? Isn’t that place just a tall tale made up by mother’s to get their children to go to bed on time?”

“What if I told you the Red Room was a very real place? That it produces some of the most terrifying creatures to ever be commanded by the Kremlin?” Morzh asked this time his voice flat without any sense of humor within it.

“I would say that your going paranoid in your old age Morzh. To stop playing me like a fool.” Alexi replied trying to surprise the fear that was rising in his voice. His heart was beating faster now. He could feel it in his ears.

“I’m not being paranoid Alexi. You should be though, because if one of those demons is after you it is only a matter of time.” Morzh explained with a cold bluntless as he slowly turned his face back towards the performers on the stage below.

As it so happened Alexi did not hear the faint sounds of Morzh’s guards outside the door being taken out. He did not hear as the soft press of a knife slit open the jugulars of Bohdan and Ruslan. He did notice as Morzh suddenly as if struck by something slumped down in the seat next to him. Alexi never even felt the bullet that killed him. His mind was too preoccupied with the imaginary demons that were soon to be creeping up on him.

---

Natasha watched as the weighted bag containing the knife and the PSS sunk into the dark waters of the Dnieper. She looked up at the few twinkling stars that managed to fight through the light pollution of the city below. She breathed in letting the cool air fill her lungs and waited a moment and then another before letting it release. It felt good.

She pressed a single finger to her left ear.

“This is вдова.” the voice held a icey purity to it unfettered by emotion. It felt almost alien sometimes.

“Go.”

“Mission Complete.”

Post Catalog:

---

I

• 1
• 2
• 3
• 4
• 5

[An Outsider]

B L A C K C A N A R Y

_{N A M E}

---

Dinah Laurel Lance

_{A L I A S}

---

Black Canary

_{P O W E R S A N D A B I L I T I E S}

---

Black Canary is a naturally gifted hand to hand combatant. Remarkable balance, speed, poise, and grace combine with an intuitive feel for technique and form to create what could one day be a world class fighter. A lack of experience is her one great failing, but she’s working overtime on that. Nightshifts, mostly.

While lacking in the skills of detection and investigation that her father had her natural guile and intelligence goes someway in making up the difference. On top of that a misspent youth has taught her some less than savoury skills, such as how to jimmy a lock, and disarm a car alarm. She’s no world class thief, but she does have a talent for getting into places people would rather she’d stay out of.

No discussion of Dinah’s powers would be complete without mention of her ‘Canary Cry’, an ultrasonic scream so powerful that it can shatter glass, crack concrete, or disorientate opponents. It might even be capable of more, though Dinah is hesitant to experiment with it. Collateral damage is difficult to contain.

_{O R I G I N A N D B A C K S T O R Y}

---

Born to a murdered PI and a former punk rock queen, Dinah Lance led a mostly directionless adolescence, anything to spark some excitement and piss off her overbearing, controlling mother. Ted Grant, a family friend and something of a surrogate father figure inspired a love for combat and the martial arts, but without any real drive for the future she didn’t know what direction she should pursue her passion. All she knew was that she couldn’t end up fighting for fighting’s on sake. Ted had drilled that into her.

The Lance’s discovered they had a mutant in the family during a prank gone wrong. Dinah and some friends decided to break into her high school after hours, though got more trouble than they bargained for when the cops were called. The teenage intruders managed to scrape a narrow escape, but in the ensuing confusion a scared Dinah unleashed her sonic scream, shattering a police cruisers windows, and blowing the eardrums of the officers. Terrified at this turn of events she went to her mother, who decided that to keep her daughter safe they would have to hide her uniqueness from prying eyes. Part of Dinah was happy to go along with her mother’s decree, though another, smaller part worried that it was the wrong choice. That they were covering up something they should have been celebrating.

At the age of nineteen she met Oliver Queen, the charismatic and charming ‘Prince of Star City’. She quickly found herself falling for the older boy, though she retreated from him when she realised he was falling just as hard for her. Without any real idea of where she wanted to go in life, or what she wanted from the world, she couldn’t allow herself to become Olly’s. If she did, then let him down, she’d never be able to forgive herself. Better to let him cut himself loose early, she figured, than allow him to tie himself to her just for them both to drown in each other’s issues.

Drowning would prove to be a poor choice of words however, when in a few short weeks later a ship Ollie was on would sink, leaving everyone to believe the young billionaire had drowned at sea. Tragedy would be heaped on with tragedy when Dinah senior would pass away a few months later. Both these incidents together would conspire to make the younger Dinah realise how half-heartedly she’d been wasting her life. With one eye on the horizon she would leave Star city to travel America, to find that drive she’d been missing for so long. Ironically it wouldn’t be until she returned to Star five years later that she’d finally find that purpose she was missing. Seeing the poverty and crime rampant in her family’s old neighbourhood of the Glades made her realise what dire straits her home town was in, made her realise that she needed to follow in her father’s footsteps. She needed to become a lawman. Only she’d have to do it her own way.

_{W H A T M A K E S T H I S C H A R A C T E R " U L T I M A T E " ?}

---

In a lot of ways this concept is really just a streamlining of the various backgrounds and origins that Black Canary has been given over the long years since her inception. Dinah is still a legacy character, though her mother was never a superhero, rather a punk rock singer calling herself the ‘Black Canary’ who assisted her husband on his cases. Dinah here is a mutant rather than a meta human, which will allow me to explore themes and storylines that aren’t necessarily open to a DC meta. Most importantly Dinah is younger, angrier, and less experienced than she is usually depicted. Whether she develops into the calm, cool, and utterly commanding heroine she can and should be is the storyline I intend to pursue here.

_{S U P P O R T I N G C H A R A C T E R S}

---

[+]

Oliver Queen – Dinah’s ex. Once lost at sea, recently found.

Sarah Lance – Dinah’s younger sister. The only member of her family still alive, though somewhat estranged.

Ted “Wildcat” Grant – Former world champion heavyweight boxer, now a trainer at Grant’s Gym. An old friend of the Lance family. Taught Dinah how to box.

Kurt Pike – Dinah’s other ex. Older, worldly, and exciting, she met him during her travels, though called things off between them after Kurt proposed.

_{S A M P L E P O S T}

---

[+]

Once upon a time a man would think twice before breaking into Ted Grant’s home. They’d think to themselves ‘alright, there isn’t much in the way of automated security here, but the owners an ex-heavyweight champ. A flat screen and some loose change probably isn’t worth risking being tagged by the same left hook that flattened Ali’, then be off on their merry way.

But then that was all before that ‘quake had gone and sunk the Glades, and twenty-five thousand people along with it. Twenty-five thousand souls, all dying slow, their city doing its level best to ignore their plight, with no other option than to steal or starve. Yeah, if anything is likely to make a man break into a boxer’s home, it’s an empty belly.

The fact that he’d went and gotten old could also be a contributing factor, it had to be said.

Still, old man or not, he wasn’t about to roll over and let some stranger root around his valuables. You have to draw a line. A man’s home was a castle, and these intruders were about to find out just how hostile this king could get when under siege.

He slipped down his stairs, silent as you like. Ghosts or shadows, mice or sneak-thieves, they could all learn a thing or two about skulking from old Ted Grant. Room by room, he whispered through the house, until he was standing outside the kitchen door. He could hear them inside, rummaging through his drawers. Maybe they were just hungry waifs after all. Only one way to find out. He kicked the door open, a roar on his lips, and hit the lights.

You get surprise on your side and nine times out of ten you’ll win any fight you get yourself into. That’s a lesson Ted Grant learnt early, and he’d stuck by it’s wisdom all these years. When he realised it was Dinah Lance in his kitchen, looking at him like a kid who’d been caught with her hand in the cookie jar and bleeding all over his clean floor the fight just fell out of him. Surprise. It’ll do that to you.

They stood staring at each other for the longest moment, a greying man in a threadbare bathrobe, and young woman leaking more red stuff than is strictly healthy. He broke the silence first, but only because all that blood loss was making her sluggish. At her best she was faster than he’d ever been.

“Sit.” He grunted, nodding at the breakfast nook. His tone brooked no argument, so she didn’t offer any. He pulled a first aid kit down from a high shelf, retrieved needle and thread, and sat down next to her.

It took him the best part of twenty minutes to stitch her up. In that time, she didn’t make a peep. Dinah Lance had always been tough, but he had guys in his stable who weighed more than two hundred pounds who at least had the decency to wince when the suture needles went in. She was like a statue carved out of marble, staring at the table top, waiting patiently for the seamstress to finish his stitching. It wasn’t natural.

He was finishing up the work, pulling the stitches tight on a nasty gash above her right shoulder, when she finally piped up.

“So, aren’t you going to say something?” Sounded like there was the edge of a wince in her voice, a tailing up of the syllables that spoke of pain bitten back. Good. He was getting worried she wasn’t all human there for a moment. He tied off the stitch before replying.

“Like what?”

“I dunno, that I was stupid, that I need to stop before I get myself killed. You told me it was dangerous in the Glades, and I went anyway.” That unvoiced wince was giving way to unspoken weariness, a bone tiredness that sunk deep. He knew that feeling. Knew it every time a fight went to the twelfth round, and you felt like you didn’t have another one in you, and you knew that if that bell rung and you had to haul yourself back into the centre of that ring your heart would give out. It was the kind of exhaustion someone feels when they know they just can’t take another fight, not yet.

“You want an ‘I told you so?’” He packed away the first aid supplies as he spoke.

“No!” She barked, a bit of colour back in her voice. Some people stand tallest when they feel like somethings trying to hold them down. Dinah Lance was one of those people. When she next spoke she was quieter, she hunched her shoulders, she stared at the floor. “But, I guess I do kinda expect one.” She never liked to admit she was wrong, never liked to say she was sorry.

“And would it stop you going out again?” He felt a grin forcing itself onto his features, looked away before she spotted it.

“Fuck no!” Real fire this time. Some people need you to push them, just so they can push back. Dinah Lance was definitely one of those people.

“Well then, way I see it is whether I like it or not, you're gonna keep traipsing into the Glades, looking for trouble?”

“Looking to help people Ted ... But yes.”

“Well then. I've got no choice. I'm gonna have to help ya.”

“Is that right?” She looked up at him and grinned, and it lit his whole damn world up.

“It is. After all, you need me. What kinda idiot tries to fight in fishnets?”

[Supermaxx]

Ultimate One Universe: Year One Application

---

The Unflinching Traitor to Mankind...Blue Beetle!

---

_{"Where the hell are we?! Why am I falling?!"
"We are approximately eighteen thousand feet above sea level."
"Ah, ese puta madre! WHY?"
"No time. I'd suggest you brace for impact."}

---

---

Full Name

---

Jaime Reyes

Alias

---

The Blue Beetle

Powers/Abilities

---

Synaptic Symbiosis Interface: The Scarab Parasite has embedded itself within the genetic code of the human being known as Jaime Reyes. It's fused together with his internal structure seamlessly, altering his physiology on a molecular level to make Jaime a more perfect host body for the Scarab unit. These changes make Reyes far more robust, even in his 'ordinary' form, and his energy consumption has been made two hundred times more efficient for added endurance at less of a cost. Most importantly, however, it is what allows the Scarab to communicate with Jaime telepathically.

Technological and Biological Assimilation: There is no singular race in the entire universe that can be described as perfect. Each has flaws- gaps in it's knowledge that can be exploited. The Scarab was designed to circumvent this flaw. It's body is the perfect blend of technology and biology, forged with the express purpose of assimilating and absorbing any and all tech it encounters deemed to be useful in the pursuit of perfection. Thus far, the Scarab has encountered nothing it cannot absorb within itself and make use of. Assimilated parts are typically 'upgraded' using other bits of technology already installed in the Scarab.

Absorbed Tech/Powers

Standard Scarab Technology Array, MK VI
Jaime Reyes - Human Host
Handcuffs
Glock 17
SHIELD Rifle
Johnny's Cellphone
FBI Radio
F-22 Raptor Engine

Origin

---

In a time when Pharaohs ruled and magic ran rampant through the earth, a great light appeared in the sky, followed by the thunderclap of it breaking through the atmosphere. An object from the sky, small enough to be held in the palm of the hand, would change the course of human history forever. But it wouldn't be the day it landed, for whoever had directed the Scarab here hadn't accounted for mankind's...superstitions. A tribe had seen it fall, and chased the fire in the sky to it's landing point. After much argument, it was decided that they had best hide it away- the gods would not want mere men meddling with their herald. The Scarab was placed within a tomb, deep in the catacombs of a mountain fortress for the dead. And there it would remain for thousands of years, forgotten.

It wasn't until 1968 when Dan Garrett, a young archaeologist on a dig in Bialya's famed tombs, that the Scarab was uncovered once more. Dan knew the object was different the moment he lay eyes on it. Fearing that such a momentous discovery would be stolen from him by his peers, Garrett hid the Scarab away, smuggling it back to his college campus in the United States. Garrett studied it for decades, never letting another soul know of it's existence. He obsessed over it's origin, chasing after extraterrestrial conspiracy theories in search of answers until the day he died. No one knows when Dan truly passed; he was out traveling the world on his unending quest one day when he simply...vanished. His estate chose to donate most of his belongings- including, unfortunately, the Scarab- to the Smithsonian Museum.

There the Scarab would remain on display until exactly a week ago. A small group of students all the way from El Paso, Texas had managed to scrounge up enough money to afford a visit to the world famous museum. Sixteen year old Jaime Reyes was among them, dragged along by his history-obsessed best (and only) friends, Paco and Brenda. He'd rather be nearly anywhere else, if he were honest; he finally got the chance to travel, but they wanted to go to a museum? Jaime, bored to tears by the tour guide, decided to slip off and explore on his own. That was when he ended up in the Bialya section: and that was when his life was ruined. The Scarab decided to awaken for the first time in three thousand years, bursting forth from it's exhibit and forcing itself down Jaime's throat.

Reyes blacked out. He didn't wake up again for quite some time.

And when he did, he found himself sitting across from an agent of SHIELD.

What makes this character 'Ultimate?'

---

When I set out to to create the Ultimate version of Blue Beetle, I had two goals in mind: Reworking the Reach to be more than another alien race that wants to conquer earth, and emphasizing how absolutely terrible it would be to be Jaime Reyes. He was your everyday, ordinary High School kid before one day an alien parasite forced itself onto his body and tried to make him a cybernetic murder machine that betrays the entire human race. That's terrifying! And I feel as if most versions of the character don't really explore just how frightening a situation this would be. So, I plan to rectify that.

Supporting Cast

---

Paco Tejas: Jaime and Paco have stuck together through thick and thin. They met all the way back in Kindergarten, and haven't spent more than a week apart from one another since. Paco's one of many middle children in a family of eight. He loves his family to death, but by God if he can't stand how crowded his tiny house is.

Brenda Del Vecchio: The coolest person willing to associate with Jaime, Brenda's been part of the gang since seventh grade. Both her best friends were made aware of her...less than ideal home life a long time ago, and they've done their best to support her through her struggles.

Ted Kord: Ted Kord is the owner and CEO of Kord Industries. Based out of Metropolis, the tech company is best known for it's advances in nanotechnology- it's one of a handful that's managed to avoid being devoured in the ever-growing titan that is lexCorp. Ted has always fashioned himself as a self made man, and he'll be damned if he sells his soul to anyone.

The Brotherhood of Evil: Yet to be encountered.

La Dama: A faceless crimelord and the queen of Texas's underground. Real name unknown. Influences stretch all the way down to various Cartels in Latin and South America.

Jasper Sitwell: The agent assigned to interrogate Jaime after the Smithsonian Incident. Special Agent In Charge of the Blue Beetle Operation.

Issue #1

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Issue #1

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The Blue Beetle stars in...The Runaway: Issue #1

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Unknown

Molasses dripped from his bones as Jaime Reyes found himself confronted by his own awakening. It was like a slow-mo punch to the lip- Jaime could feel his face crumpling under the knuckles, but everything was moving so slowly that he felt no inclination to stop it.

His eyes flickered open lazily, like it was a particularly quiet summer Sunday. Every inch of his body had a dull, obnoxious ache lingering in it. Reyes didn't know why. Had he, for God knows what reason, decided to join the Football team last night? Wandered his way into El Paso High's quarterback position and found himself on the business end of a three hundred pound seventeen year old?

Jaime went to rub the sleepiness from his eyes, yet found his hands uncooperative.

"Huh?" The boy murmured, tugging at them again. Something caught on both wrists. Something cold and unforgiving against his weak pulls.

That was when he finally noticed where he was. He was sitting in front of a stainless steel table in room caked in shadow. Judging by the coolness under his tush, Reyes could guess the chair was of a similar make to the table.

He noticed, too, that he was not alone.

"Jaime Reyes. Sixteen. Resident of El Paso, visiting Washington, D.C for...recreational purposes."

Seated on the opposite side of the table was a man that could be described as part high school physics teacher and part serial murderer. Straw-colored hair had been slicked back with thick slabs of hair gel, and a pair of even thicker-rimmed glasses sat on the bridge of his hawkish nose. What caught Jaime's eye, however, was the symbol on his shoulder.

The eagle of SHIELD.

It hit him like a semi-truck barreling down the highway. The haze he'd woken up with was lifting. Yesterday...He hadn't played Football yesterday. No, Jaime could remember there being way, way too much blood for that. "Ohhh no, no...ahh shit! Fuck! Hostia-"

"Son," The agent's voice rose above Jaime's, the laugh lines on his face loosening at the sight of the kid's panic. "I need you to stay calm for me, alright? I know you've..." There was a pause, his expression shifting as he searched for the proper word. There wasn't a word for something like this. Not one that would help.

"You've been through a lot, son, but I'm here to help you. My name is Jasper. Jasper Sitwell. I'm an agent of SHIELD. You know what SHIELD is, right?"

Reyes snapped his eyes shut, letting the darkness choke out the light. His nose flared and air shot into his nostrils. He had to remember more. All he had were bits and pieces, but try as he might it felt like a fog had fallen over his mind. Like his thoughts were being hidden from him. It made his chest tighten. "Why can't...why can't I remember?"

With a sigh, Sitwell brought a manila folder into view. He must've had it open in his lap. "Well, I can walk you through what happened. You're not going to like it, but it's better we pull the band-aid off now. No use in trying to hide it."

He flipped the file open, revealing the printed report tucked away inside. It was titled 'Incident Report #4217 - Smithsonian.'

Jasper began to read in a slow, deliberate drawl. His voice was clinical and detached. "At approximately twelve thirty in the afternoon, Jaime Reyes entered the Smithsonian Museum of Natural History. At one forty five he entered the Bialya exhibit, where Special Interest Object number four-two-one-seven was being displayed. The object activated when Jaime entered within approximately eight meters..."

As the words flowed from the man's baritone cords, Jaime let himself go back there. He allowed his mind to slip back into memories locked away. He was standing in the museum, right behind Brenda and Paco. They were nerding out over some old piece of armor, talking about Caesar salads or something. Reyes could feel himself growing anxious and bored when he finally decided to tell them he was 'going to the bathroom.' His excuse for running off to find something better to do.

He...remember the banner over the Bialya exhibit catching his eye. He had heard about Bialya being a war torn hellhole in Civics class. It sounded kinda entertaining, at least. That brought Reyes coasting inside, not chasing anything in particular.

Then he saw it. Jaime could remember what it looked like as if he were standing right in front of it at that moment. A piece of art, made of some...odd metal that had lost it's sheen a long time ago. It was shaped like some kind of bug. The long, almost knife-like legs gave Reyes the creeps. He could've sworn he remembered seeing those legs twitching.

"Dios mío..." The boy rasped, his voice barely above a frozen whisper. The room had grown colder. He swore he felt a chill rushing along his bare arms, eliciting goosebumps to rise along his tan flesh.

"...Four-two-one-seven entered a liquid state and broke the glass around it's display. It crossed the ground, passing by a number of other people as it made it's way directly toward Reyes. The Object crawled up the side of his leg and around his body, making it's way up until it reached the mouth. It entered into Reyes's body..."

Jaime could feel it, then. He could feel something cold tingling at the back of his throat. It was wet and sticky, like milk that'd been left out on the counter too long. That thing...it was too fast for Jaime. It moved up under his clothes, making a sound like nails in a blender played over a little girl's scream. Jaime could feel it moving. he could feel it inside of him.

Reyes wrapped his fingers around the handcuffs that kept him tied to the table. He pulled at them fiercely, air coming into his lungs in short, sharp bursts. Why was he locked up? Wasn't he the victim here? Why wasn't he in the hospital after that thing attacked him?

Agent Sitwell only glanced up at the rapidly unfurling teenager for a second. He had to continue reading: this was the part that really mattered, after all. "Once inside, the Object appeared to fuse with the subject. The liquid state metal that had entered his body came back out of his pores, encasing Reyes's body. Reyes then began to scream in an unidentified language, and..."

Jaime kicked the table hard enough for it to bounce in place. He kicked it again, and again, and again. A rumbling, anguished scream turned his throat raw as the fog finally lifted and the full extent of his actions was revealed. "STOP!" Reyes pleaded, tears stinging in the corners of his eyes. He shook his head with vicious conviction, fighting against his restraints like a man possessed. "Please- shut...shut up! Shut the fuck up! PLEASE."

He wanted it to stop. It needed to stop. He couldn't...this didn't happen. He couldn't have done this.

"Reyes's arms transformed into unidentified energy weapons of potentially extraterrestrial origin, likely as a result of his fusion with four-two-one-seven. Reyes opened fire into the crowd of panicked, fleeing people-"

Reyes threw his body backward. The chair he was in tipped, letting him tumble backward. The table was dragged along with Jaime during the fall with a screech of it's legs against the floor. He wasn't screaming anymore. His throat was too raw, and he could no longer find his voice. He couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. All he could see was the blood. The blood and the people trying to run away from him.

Sitwell stopped. He set the file down on the table with an utter, complete calm. Rising up from his own seat, the gangling agent took a step around the table and toward Jaime. "I know. I know." Jasper tried to comfort him, his voice low and fatherly as he bent down toward the crying boy. "I'm sorry-"

The sound of chains snapping caused Jasper's eyes widening. Before he could draw his sidearm, a fist coated in black and blue armor grabbed him by the collar. "Jaime, don't-"

With strength unknown to his arms, Reyes felt himself toss Sitwell across the interrogation room. The agent let out a cry as his back slammed against the harsh steel and he went tumbling down to the ground. The door was thrown open, several men in identical uniforms rushing inside with pistols drawn.

"I- I didn't mean to-" Jaime rasped, finding his voice overtaken by another, far stronger one.

'Jaime Reyes, I am Khaji Da. You are in mortal danger- let me help you.'

The Blue Beetle Series:

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The Runaway

Issue #1 (scroll up ya dummy)
Issue #2
Issue #3
Issue #4
Issue #5
Issue #6
Issue #7
Issue #8
Issue #9
Issue #10
Issue #11
Issue #12
Issue #13
Issue #14
Issues #15 & #16
Issue #17

Cowboys And Aliens

Issue #1
Issue #2
Issue #3
Issue #4
Issue #5
Issue #6
Issue #7
Issue #8

[url=http://]Season One Epilogue[/url]

[Roman]

▼ POWERS & ABILITIES:

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// PEAK PHYSICAL CONDITION| Having undergone several kinds of rigorous training across his lifetime, Matthew has achieved a human body at peak physical performance, with his strength, speed, stamina, endurance, agility, and reflexes all at the absolute upper limits of human capability.

// PEAK MENTAL ABILITY | Matthew is incredibly gifted, having studied hard and achieved great academic success in his civilian life, and honed that intellect into some more practical talents for his vigilantism. Skilled in detection and problem-solving, Matthew also has a fantastic working knowledge of criminology and psychology. Furthermore, Matthew is able to detach himself from emotional response when necessary, able to turn to logic and rationality and focus entirely on his goals, suppressing emotion completely.

// SUPERHUMAN SENSORY SYSTEM After the accident that caused Matthew's blindness, his other senses began to compensate far past what was expected of them, and with Stick's later training, Matthew has honed these remaining senses into the superhuman, unlocking extraordinary abilities.

◼ SUPERHUMAN TOUCH | Matthew's sense of touch is so acute that his finger can feel the faint impressions of ink on a printed page, allowing him to read by touch. The rest of his skin is equally sensitive, enabling him to feel minute temperature and pressure changes in the atmosphere around him. Even with his senses of smell and hearing blocked, he can feel the presence of a person standing five feet away from him simply by his or her body heat and disturbance of air, which he can use to predict the movement of people nearby.

◼ SUPERHUMAN HEARING | Murdock's sense of hearing enables him to detect an acoustic pressure change of one decibel at a pressure level of seven decibels. He can hear a person's heartbeat at a distance of over twenty feet, or people whispering on the other side of a standard soundproofed wall. He is also able to focus on a particular sound, however quiet, and block all others out. Matthew's hearing also allows him to use incoming acoustic information to map out his environment in 360 degrees.

◼ SUPERHUMAN SMELL | Matthew's sense of smell is so acute that he can distinguish between identical twins at twenty feet by minute differences in smell. He can detect odors from even the smallest concentrations in the atmosphere. Furthermore, his ability to remember smells enables him to identify nearly any person by their natural odor alone, and he can use this to track a mark across a large distance, even through a crowd.

◼ SUPERHUMAN TASTE | Matthew's ability to identify and remember tastes in incredibly tiny quantities enables him to determine every ingredient of a food or drink he tastes, and even taste particular vapors in the air.

▼ ORIGIN & BACKSTORY:

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Born to a nameless mother, Matthew grew up with his father, Jack Murdoch, a semi-pro underground boxer for Hell's Kitchen and its underbelly. Jack had a penchant for getting back up off the mat despite however many broken bones he'd picked up, and this trait seemed to pass to Matthew, who would treasure it in later years; for most of his childhood, however, Jack tried to keep his only family hidden from the violence that plagued the downtrodden Manhattan neighborhood and instead directed Matthew's attentions to his studies, making sure he kept up in school until Matthew started to excel by himself. Jack was proud that such a bright child could be called his, and he foresaw an escape from Hell's Kitchen for his son - an escape that would not find Matthew; at nine years old, Hell's Kitchen put in its claim to the child. A traffic accident and a courageous, reckless act, caused a truck hauling chemical waste and toxic run-off to crash and overturn, spilling its cargo across the road and onto several bystanders - including Matthew. Caught in the spill, the chemicals burnt his eyes irrevocably. Jack and Matthew's lives changed forever - Matthew bound to the abilities that would reveal themselves over the next few months and years, and Jack bound to dealing with a disabled son who displayed abnormal reflexes and sensory overload.

Matthew spent his formative years learning his new place in the world, refining the senses he had left and continuing his studies. Jack continued boxing, losing and winning when the local mob told him to, until eventually - as he realized Matthew's abilities and intelligence were beginning to pull him to greater things - he took a final stand, winning an against-all-odds boxing match in Round 9 against 'Crusher' Creel, despite being instructed to stay down in the fourth. Jack Murdock never made it home. Matthew fled Hell's Kitchen the same night, cursing the criminals that had shaped his life and ended his father's. He found refuge in an nun's orphanage for a time, until his abilities took the notice of a blind man who called himself 'Stick'; Matthew left with Stick to train his mind, senses, and body, and he never (figuratively) looked back.

Many years later, Matthew returned to Manhattan to pick up where he had left off in his education; securing a place at Columbia, where he met Foggy Nelson, and going on to secure a Summa Cum Laude Law Degree from Harvard Law, with Foggy attaining a Cum Laude Law Degree alongside him. Taking a cue from Harvey Dent, an admired peer Murdock had met at university, Murdock moved back to Hell's Kitchen with Foggy to become New York's newest ADA, a high profile judiciary position that gave Murdock quick access to the information he needed to start cleaning up his home. However, Matthew soon found that courtroom law was far from the 'justice' he sought for the people of Hell's Kitchen. At first, it was those in his immediate vicinity; a blindfold and dark clothes for the domestic abuser in the next building over, the cop taking bribes from the local dealer to keep him operating on student corners. Beyond that, Matthew moved his scope to the broader picture, donning padded athletic wear and a more stylized 'mask' to take on gambling rings and amateur human trafficking. Soon enough, Matthew saw too much in court to stand by without action any longer. It was time for the suit, to combat the massive crime organisation that underpinned the criminal everyday of Hell's Kitchen.

It was time for Kingpin. It was time for Daredevil.

▼ SUPPORTING CHARACTERS :

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// ALLIES

◼ FRANKLIN 'FOGGY' NELSON | Matthew's partner in law as Assistant District Attorney and lifetime best friend, the two met at Columbia Law and have been inseparable ever since. Foggy is Matthew's walking conscience and moral compass, always there to guide Murdock back towards the light when the Devil strays too far into the dark.

◼ KAREN PAGE | A beautiful blonde hired by Foggy to be his and Matthew's assistant, Karen is tenacious, intelligent, and a little too morally upstanding to be safe in Hell's Kitchen. She enjoys a fiery chemistry with Murdock, although he refuses to let anything come of it.

◼ STICK | A martial arts master with supersensory abilities even more advanced than Murdock's, he recognized Matthew's condition at the orphanage and took him away for training. He is mysterious, stoic, and guarded, but nonetheless a strong ally of Matthew.

◼ JACK MURDOCK | Matthew's father, a semi-pro boxer in Hell's Kitchen who raised Matthew as a single father. He did well, teaching Matthew to be a kinder and better person than Jack was, and after Matthew's accident, still encouraged him to pursue his studies. Tragically, he eventually crossed the mob of Hell's Kitchen while Matthew was still young, and Matthew has been trying to do his father proud ever since.

// FRIENDS

◼ HARVEY DENT| The zealous and enthusiastic ADA of Gotham City, Murdock met Dent at Columbia Law and the two immediately formed a strong respect for each other. They rarely talk anymore, but Murdock keeps tabs - Gotham is a difficult city, and allies there are hard to come by.

// ENEMIES

◼ THE KINGPIN | The unquestioned head of nearly all organised crime in New York, with an iron grip on Murdock's neighborhood of Hell's Kitchen, and an intellect to match his physicality. Ruthless, violent, intelligent - there is no criminal in New York who would cross the Kingpin. But there is a Devil waiting to face him.

▼ SAMPLE POST:

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Matthew followed the clacking of the metal heels deep into Hell's Kitchen, every step rippling out across the street and down the curb, lighting up the asphalt. The ripples mixed with the rain, every individual drop giving him constant flashes of the city - every sidewalk tile, every trashcan, every streetlight. A whole city as one surface, pulsing and radiating soundwaves and heat. Matthew himself spread noise, the low wet thud of his boots against rooftops feeding him information that he accepted, analysed, and discarded. Above all that was Matthew's mark, and now, despite the rain, he was picking up smells as well - wet leather, musky cologne...and the slight tinge of salt, mixed with oil and the unmistakable scent of gunpowder. The salt carried the sea with it, but Matthew already knew they were headed to the docks by their direction - but the oil and gunpowder was from the pistols Daredevil's mark carried, holstered beneath his coat around his torso. They'd been fired recently, but the man didn't carry the smell of blood with him, so Matthew assumed it was target practice or goods testing. They were drawing closer to the docks and he was learning more about his mark every step - testing pistols. Flashy fashion sense. Bald, wearing sunglasses, thin vest top. Something in his left pocket - the coat swung heavier on that side. He leaped another rooftop, putting a hand to his batons in mid-air. Something told him he'd need them.

Matthew kept on the mark's trail. They went a couple more blocks and then buildings gave way to warehouses and Matthew had to hit the ground if he wanted to follow. Warehouses were noisy and involved a lot of glass - in the rain, he didn't want to slip. Or put his foot through a pane. The guy carried guns, and bulletproof armour was hard to move in. Instead, he dropped carefully, leaping from the rooftop to the indent of a window a few stories down on the opposite building, landing with the balls of his feet on the outcropping and springing back, flipping backwards from the window and reaching out to grab a steel cable that was strung between the buildings another few stories down. His orientation didn't matter; he kept track of himself through proprioception and the buildings through sound, air pressure, the smell of brick and concrete. The cable flexed as it took his weight and he dropped the last few metres, rolling as he hit the ground and unsheathing his batons. He spun them in his hand and tested the retracting cable that strung them together, and then, satisfied, re-centered his hearing. The footsteps were still there, still his mark's. They'd been alone for a while now, and he hadn't changed his gait. Matthew slunk across walls and behind shipping containers, still in pursuit. They were by the sea's edge now, and the docks had turned into massive corridors of corrogated metal, walled off by cargo.

He whistled. A simple four-note tune, but it was clear in its purpose. A woman appeared from behind one of the containers. Matthew had heard her heartbeat as they'd approached - it remained calm. His mark's did not. He cleared his throat, and spoke:
"The guns are good. I'll take more pistols, and I want to add the assaults and the sniper. It'll all be useful." His heart rate was rapid, but his breathing and words remained steady. He was about to do something stupid.
"You sound like you're takin' a crew. He doesn't like supplying crews. They might get stupid and think they're competition." She replied, voice calm, heartbeat to match. She seemed to anticipate it.
"No crew. Just what's needed for the target. High-risk."
"If you're going after who I think you're going after you're going to need a crew. Not like you'd lose much on the split."
"I don't need the money." It wasn't a boast - his heartrate hadn't faltered, so he believed it. Either he was well-off or didn't care. "I'm not doing it because someone paid me to do it." Still telling his truth. "I'm doing it because it can be done. And everyone's going to know my name when I do it." He seemed proud in himself, puffed up on his own stupid ego. The woman just shrugged.
"Whatever. Just make sure you keep whatever trouble you stir up to yourself. He doesn't need egos bringing trouble back to him. You know what he wants for the goods. You can wire it direct."
"I know what he wants." Muttered the man, voice low - trying to be threatening. Matthew primed himself, every muscle wound tight, ready to spring. His fist clenched around his batons. The man unholstered his pistols, arm stretching out to hold it in front of him. "But only I get what I want."

The woman would have begun to laugh, had Matthew not loosened his body and launched from the corner, already raising his arm to strike with the baton - but the woman had seen his fast movement and the man had noticed her, throwing his arm out behind him to the left without looking and pulling the trigger. Matthew felt the arm's movement through the air, the heat from the muzzle and the sound of the gun telling him the exact path of the bullet and he was able to throw himself backwards to the ground immediately, feeling the air ripple and vibrate above him as the bullet slammed into a shipping container and ricocheted away. Matt barely had time to register the good shot before he flicked the top of his baton as he fell, releasing the cable that tied the two together and whipping his arm out as he hit the floor, hitting the man's inside wrist, nearly breaking it with the force of the throw and forcing him to drop the pistol. He slid in the rain, pitching forward and pushing up on his feet as the mark drew his other pistol in his remaining hand. He barely had to time to wrap his finger around the trigger before Matt brought his stick straight down on the arm, cleanly breaking the ulna as the shooter yelled out in pain, silenced by a boot to the chest as the other pistol clattered to the ground. The woman was pissed - at the mark.

"You brought the fucking Devil with you? You let him follow you? You're a fuck-up and a nobody! After threatening me? He'll come see you soon, don't you worry about that. Then, people are going to know who you are."

She was gone before Matt could stop her - not that it would have been useful to do so. He took a deep breath through his nose, analysing all the scents he could find before isolating one that would be easy to follow up on - fish, variety of, from the nearby market she obviously frequented - before he delivered a sharp heel-kick to the skull of his mark. Extorting an arms-dealer to get weapons so he could go after the very same vigilante that had already surreptitiously followed him to said dealer. He probably wasn't doing much damage that hadn't been done already.

It didn't take long to deliver the no-name to the PD, and Matt wondered if he'd see him later in court. Probably not - he didn't see much of his handiwork. He usually got them on the streets before he needed to defend their victims in the courtroom. He spent the rest of the night on more patrol, thinking over his new lead through the arms dealer and listening to his city. Matt had his own problems; but Hell's Kitchen wouldn't see anymore trouble tonight.

▼ WHAT MAKES DAREDEVIL 'ULTIMATE'?:

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This is a Matthew Murdock who, instead of helping bleeding hearts and the unfortunate, still has dreams of being a big city lawyer. He's high profile and works high class cases, directly taking on the mob on both his civilian guise and during the night when he dons the horns to become Daredevil. It is more important than ever to keep his dual life secret, as he becomes a bright target to the underworld on both sides of the law.