AndyC

Ultimate One Universe: Emergence

While I haven't named her by name yet, for fear of stepping on toes, I've alluded in my Wolverine posts that the Assistant Director under Fury is Amanda Waller. If someone else has grand designs for Waller, though, that could just as easily be Maria Hill or someone else.

AZUL Islands - Drama, Romance, Mystery, Slice of Life

Bobby T.

“--few more days, and we'll get negotiations back on track," Bobby said into his iPhone, pacing back and forth around the rooftop pool of La Casa Del Sol Nasciento. “I've told you this, Terry. It's just a hiccup, nothing to get worried about."

The early evening sun was beginning to turn the sky a gorgeous orange, the thin wisps of clouds turning shades of pastel pink and violet. A few stories below, the streets of Isla Zafrio were starting to come alive as people left work to take in the night-life. Salt air came in on a refreshing breeze from the ocean, and the view from the top of the hotel let him see waves lapping at the beach a leisurely stroll from where he was staying.

On the outside, Bob Townsend Jr. was every bit the picture of serene paradise as the view he looked down on. On the inside, he was ready to start screaming.

“Look, you know how these family things can be," he said with a dismissive chuckle. “One person says the wrong thing to the wrong relative, someone takes it the wrong way, then it's all Hatfields and McCoys and Montagues and Capulets. They've all got their dander up, but once things simmer down, I'll pick right back up where we left off. These Azul Days that are coming up? Everyone here goes nuts for them. It'll put them in the right mood to talk. I'll bring you something from the festival. Something with dolphins on it, they love dolphins here. You like dolphins?"

At the far end of the pool, a thirty-something-year-old Japanese woman lounged in one of the poolside deck chairs, busily tapping away at her tablet even as she tried to relax. Behind her sunglasses, Machiko Chigusa rolled her eyes at Bobby's smooth-talk.

“All right, I'll let you go," Bobby said, “And hey, like I said, these Cardenas guys are just a little touchy right now. A few days of partying, a few rounds of drinks, and we'll get the winery deal and more. You know me, Terry, just trust in Bobby T's golden touch, okay? All right, talk to you later, give Linda my love. Bobby T, out!"

Bobby ended the call, and as soon as he saw the disconnect, he shouted “Asshole! You call me up, start questioning me? Try to kick me while I'm down? I've seen what you've been bringing in the last three quarters, and you're not in any position to question shit! You start poking your nose around here, I'll bury your ass alive!"

Machiko looked over the rim of her sunglasses, raising an eyebrow. “Are you done, Bobby?" she said, not a hint of accent in her perfect English.

“Oh, don't you start, Chiko," Bobby snapped at her. “I've been doing all the heavy lifting since we've got here. I was the one who was sweet-talking the Cardenas, I was the one who got us the rights to this hotel. All you've been doing is playing tattle-tale for your cousins back in Osaka."

“I've been keeping track of the funds and spending on this little venture," she said, “making sure you don't blow through all of your family and my family's money."

Bobby had gotten a reputation as a rock-star in his father's business, throwing wild parties and spending lavishly, but making up for it by landing huge real-estate deals. After the merger that turned Townsend Holdings into Townsend-Chigusa Holdings International, his new partners from the other side of the Pacific had become a thorn in his side, sending bean-counters and penny-pinchers along with him to rein him in.

Machiko, one of the younger cousins of the Chigusa family, was basically a machine that always managed to somehow turn fun into work. She had all the warmth and softness of a block of brushed steel, and he was convinced she had at some point replaced her soul with accounting software. Honestly, the fact that she looked incredible in a bikini was the only reason Bobby hadn't found a way to ditch her back on the mainland.

Bobby looked out on the horizon with annoyance. “Is that peckerwood with the airplane still flying around? Some goddamn local yokel, thinking he's hot shit because he can handle a Cessna."

Machiko grinned. It annoyed Bobby to no end that she had begun calculating fuel expenditures for his private helicopter as "entertainment expenses," unless if it was directly related to an upcoming deal. This meant he could only use it to shuttle himself and members of the Cardenas family between the islands, and he had to take the most direct route possible. And because the Cardenas family had put their dealings with him on hold, he was grounded for the foreseeable future.

“I saw them set down while you were talking with Terry," Machiko said with a grin; if there was anything that made her feel any kind of joy, it was seeing Bobby annoyed. “I believe the pilot does tours, if you’d like me to book you for one.”

Bob was about to make some pithy remark dismissing the idea, but he caught himself, and in the seconds he took to find his composure, had a bit of inspiration.

“Actually, that’s not a bad idea,” he said, grinning as the facade of ‘Bobby T’ settled back into place. “Sure, it’s not as nice as my chopper, but flying’s flying, right? And hey, seeing what the locals think passes for a thrill ride will give us some ideas on how to improve on the concept once we buy this hotel and start doing our own airplane tours as part of an ‘island adventure’ package.”

Bobby had already spoken with Ramon Gutierrez, the proprietor of La Casa Del Sol Nasciento, about purchasing the hotel, and while the old man was hesitant about turning over his life’s work, Bobby knew he was less than a week away from flipping him. The hotel was old, and while it was still profitable, it was nowhere near as successful as newer hotels like the Casa de la Contessa. Once La Casa was his (or rather, was Townsend-Chigusa’s), he’d bulldoze the old building and replace it with a brand-new top-of-the-line facility, maybe keep a few bits like the original awning or cornerstone as “historical preservation.” From there, it’d be easy to spin it into an underdog story, the old underperforming establishment given new life and dominating the island. Combined with the developments he was planning with the Cardenas winery, he’d make Townsend-Chigusa a tidy little profit on these islands when all was said and done.

Of course, that was just the opening act. Bobby could’ve bought some land or flipped an old hotel anywhere on the planet and made money off of it. But he’d come to Azul for something much bigger than that…

“Well, I don’t know about you,” Bobby said as he stretched, “but I could use a drink. And not one from the hotel bar– Marta doesn’t seem to grasp the concept of ‘no coconut, por favor.’ Ronaldo, you know anywhere nice to get some refreshments?”

Ronaldo Cortez, a local man that Bobby had hired to be his private security, cleared his throat. While he’d done his best to remain professional, given long enough, his gaze always seemed to wander back to Ms. Chigusa’s legs.

“I, erm, I know a few places,” Ronaldo said, now making an effort to stare straight forward. “Do you want somewhere nice, or a, er, a hole in the wall?”

Bobby gave a shrug, perfectly practiced to show how casual and flippant he was. “Surprise me. Let’s hit the town.”

Ultimate One Universe: Emergence

@AndyC could you not decide?

@Sep

I was using my phone and kept fat-fingering the wrong reaction.

Mechwarrior: Disposable Heroes

M I S S I O N B R I E F I N G

"Green Knights," Colonel Wayne began, addressing his gathered warriors, "I don't need to tell you all how difficult it's been, having our families, our friends, our loved ones locked away in Fort Tie Shan. I've been holding off a direct assault on the Fort, as the combination of their heavy fortifications and the threat of harm against our civilian contingent has been too great. Unfortunately, the leader of the Crimson Fists, the so-called 'Crimson King,' is forcing our hand. He's demanded our surrender by sunrise this morning, or he's going to have our people executed."

Angry and concerned murmurs spread through the crowd, but the Colonel put his hands up to quiet them. "Fortunately, we have an advantage, one we didn't know about until recently. Lieutenant Lyons?"

"Hm? Oh, right, sir!" the commander of the Mobile HQ perked up before speaking. "Approximately two hours ago, the comms team in the mobile HQ intercepted a crude transmission on a civilian channel. It was a simple message in Morse code, using a short-range scrap-made transmitter, and we have reason to believe the signal was coming from inside Fort Tie Shan. The message let us know that there is an underground tunnel southwest of the fort! We cross-referenced it with the old Star League maps provided by Ms. Jeong, and it appears to be a valid link. It's a back-door into the Fort, and there's a good chance that the NPDRE and the Crimson Fists don't even know about it!"

"Thank you, Lieutenant, that will be all," Colonel Wayne dismissed her. "Now then, even with those service tunnels active, the second the guards notice prisoners disappearing, they'll know something is up and start shooting. That's why we'll need a distraction. A very big distraction. The tactical map, please."

Cadet Higgins switched on a projector, which played an image of an overhead map of the Fort on a flat section of wall.

Tactical Map

"This is a layout of the only approach to Fort Tie Shan, taken a few weeks before the coup," the Colonel said. "It's heavily fortified with heavy walls, minefields, and several turrets. And that's not including the vehicles from the Espian Guard, and likely Mechs from the Crimson Fists. A direct assault would likely get us and all of our people killed. So instead, we're going to buy time."

The projector moved to the next slide, showing a close-up of the prison complex.

Prison Complex

"Before sunrise, we are going to get every APC, cargo hauler, flatbed truck, scrapyard schoolbus, anything and everything that can carry people, down into that tunnel and have them all on standby. Once they're in place, the Green Knights will begin an assault on the prison from the outside, drawing the attention of the fort's defenses. As soon as the assault begins, Sergeant Dalton will lead a strike team into the fort from below and begin evacuating the general population detention center. The number one priority will be to buy Dalton and his team enough time to pull everyone out.

"The secondary objective," he continued, "Is the super-max wing of the prison. It's likely that members of our command staff will be held within the super-max, as well as officers from the old loyalist regime, and several key members of the FPA. If we can spring them, we can help create a united front to take down Federov and end the fighting once and for all."

"There are, however, going to be...challenges," said the Colonel. "The guard barracks houses hundreds of infantrymen, who will begin to muster once the assault begins. Not much against Mechs, but they'll make evacuating the fort more and more difficult as the attack goes on. The comms tower will also give the enemy the ability to call in air strikes; don't forget, the NPDRE still has one Mechbuster out there, as well as a Shilone bomber. Destroying either of those targets will make our job significantly easier; if need be, Dalton's troops can divert manpower to placing C-64 explosive charges inside those structures, but doing so will slow down the evacuation. Daschke, that will be your call."

The projector moved to another slide, closing in on the bridge crossing the river and the machine gun emplacements on the far side. "Now, onto the static defenses."

Pillboxes

"There's a network of pillboxes around the perimeter of the fort," he continued, "Allowing teams of machine gunners to attack from a fortified position. Individually each one won't be much of a threat, but the damage they do can add up. Not to mention, they'll absolutely shred soft targets like infantry...or civilians."

Missiles

"There are also multiple automated turrets, most of which are equipped with missile racks. The most numerous of them contain a single LRM-5 launcher, but there are bigger ones with a pair of LRM-10s. In particular, the hill on the southeast will be a pain in the ass to clear."

Lasers

"Perhaps the biggest threat will be the heavy laser turrets," he continued. "There are only two of them, but each has a pair of Large Lasers, and a quad set of AC/2s. If they're left unattended, they can ruin your day."

Generator

"The turrets are all linked to the power plant on the south end of the fort. It's a hardened building, so it'll take some concentrated effort to crack it, but if you manage to get to it, you'll take the whole turret network down."

The slides ended, and the Colonel continued the briefing.

"Fort Tie Shan does not have an armored garrison, but there's a nearby firebase where we know they've got vehicles that will go on alert as soon as we start shooting. Given the Espian Guard's typical MO, that likely means Scorpion tanks, Warrior helicopters, an SRM Carrier in the worst-case scenario. If we move quickly and knock out enough of the Fort's defenses, we can get our people and be out of there before reinforcements arrive, but the longer we stay, the uglier this fight will get."

Looking out at his Mechwarriors, he knew what he was asking of them. This was going to be the heaviest fighting the Green Knights had ever encountered as a unit, and there was little chance of everyone coming out alive. Which is why it was important to give them some hope.

"On the positive side, we may have some backup," he then said. "Our contact Stiletto has arranged a meeting with the heads of the FPA at zero-dark-thirty this morning, before the attack is scheduled to begin. The FPA has assets in the area, most notably three Thumper artillery pieces they captured during the fighting in Yuzhny Portveyn. If we can convince them to bring those guns to the fight, then Ziska can use her Raven's TAG Laser to feed them targeting data and start putting shells onto targets. Since the Knights are going to be tied up in the fighting, Ms. Wyatt: since you handled our negotiations with Comstar so well, I'd like you to be the one who speaks to the FPA leaders to get us those guns. Failing that, Mechwarrior Daschke: as Lance Commander, I authorize you to make use of the recovered tactical nuke at your discretion."

He took a long sigh, "Which leaves us the matter of the Crimson King and his cronies. We've bloodied them twice now, but they still have the numbers on us. If they show up in force for a fight, and those defenses are still online, we lose, plain and simple. So before any of that happens, there's one final layer of diversion at hand."

He gave his men a somber look, then over to the Mobile HQ, who returned his look with a nod.

"I'm going to open up a direct channel to the Crimson King," he said. "I'm going to acknowledge his demand to turn myself in, but dispute it warrior to warrior. I'm going to demand the Crimson Fists return my Battlemaster to me, and by the honors of war and the tenets of the Lorix Creed, I'm going to challenge him to single combat."

This brought an uproar from the crowd, which he immediately quieted.

"I'm well aware this could fail," he stated, "That they could simply find my location and send a sniper or a drone. But given that this character likes to put on a show, I don't think his ego will allow him to resist. He'll come out for a fight, and then the rest of the Fists will probably jump me and try to kill me. But every second they're doing that is a second they're not defending the Fort."

"We've come back from the brink already," Gaius said, "And I couldn't be more proud of how you've performed in extreme circumstances. This is the moment we take it all back. This is moment we win this war. And we'll do it, because frankly we don't have the option not to."

He held out his hands to open up the floor. "Now then: any questions before we decide the fate of this planet?"

Ultimate One Universe: Emergence

To tag up on what's been said: we're all starting off on the first week of, more or less, superherodom. Superman appears (when I finally have him appear, sorry about the wait) and it sets off a chain reaction of other vigilantes and powered heroes showing up in this world, leading to things like mutants being more outwardly active and villains on an Earth-level coming out of the woodwork. The implication there is that every hero character is very green and amateur at what they do, leading to them being susceptible to mistakes and power levels that are far below their peak.

So when we say that we don't want major threats like Darkseid, Thanos, Galactus and the lot beaming down from space and challenging the current crop of characters, we literally just don't want our characters either getting an automatic power boost to compete with villains on that level or, more realistically, getting killed. It's not interesting to have characters this new to the cape life be decimated by threats that are ordinarily saved for fully stacked teams and heroes that are more experienced compared to having them struggle against jobbers like The Rhino or Clayface. That's the goal, which is to build heroes to eventually become capable of taking on bigger threats.

So no, we're not literally talking about the idea that the Green Lantern Corps just started and recruited Hal and Sinestro this week. That'd be absurd. Darkseid is obviously around and ruling Apokolips, he didn't just ascend to that throne. Galactus is out there. Thanos might already be off Titan, we don't know. It's just that for the sake of our player characters, the characters that matter to this game, it's the first week. Just don't throw something like that at any of them. We're telling a story as a group and that story is "Superhero? What even is a superhero?" in a generalized sense.

@Master Bruce

Meanwhile I'm over here playing two different characters who have been around for over a century. I did not understand the assignment.

Ultimate One Universe: Emergence

“Hey kid,” I say, nudging the sleeping teenager with the toe of my boot, “breakfast is almost ready.”

Kitty stirs, and I groggily step back into the main room of the small cabin to give her some privacy. Outside, the morning sun has warmed the valley to just being too-goddamned-cold instead of deadly, but I close the cabin door behind me to keep as much warmth in as possible as I step bleary-eyed outside and trudge through the snow.

“*Sniff*...yeah, not much longer,” I say as I get a nose full of wood smoke, mixed with the salty smell of fatty meat cooking. Just the smell of it wakes me up a little, enough to make me realize how tired I am.

I kept watch on the cabin until Kitty calmed down enough to fall asleep, and I've been busy since the dead of night. I took care of the hardest job first: digging a long ditch to bury the men outside. I was lucky enough to find a ditch a few hundred meters from the cabin, and my claws make me better than most at digging and burrowing, but even then, after carving out enough room for fourteen bodies and their gear, dragging them through the woods, and then covering them up, I was about spent.

Still, we were both gonna need fuel to get moving, so I had to find some fat and protein. After a few minutes to dig out a Dakota fire pit that won’t give off much smoke, another few minutes to get some wood burning, and then a few more to clean and chop a fresh kill, I was able to sit for a while and just cook.

Eventually, Kitty comes out of the cabin, bundled up in her coat and a heavy blanket wrapped over her. She looks down at the frying pan I’ve got over the fire, and sees the red strips of meat that are sizzling in the pan. ”What’s that?”

”Bacon,” I answer, turning a strip over with one claw.

”I, uh, I can’t eat bacon,” she says, uneasily.

I look over my shoulder and raise an eyebrow. “You a vegetarian or something?”

She shakes her head. ”Er, no, I’m Jewish.”

”Ah,” I nod. “Well, good news: it’s not pork.”

Kitty nods, then I see her face go white. “Wait a sec. Those guys from last night…is that–”

“It’s deer meat,” I cut in, realizing the conclusion she’s jumping to. “I caught a doe this morning.”

Gesturing to the treeline, I point out the skinned and cleaned carcass I've got hanging from a branch. Most of it’s butchered cleanly, apart from a couple of bloody mouthfuls I tore out to keep my hunger down.

“Oh God, that's… eucch!” Kitty turns away, holding back a dry-heave. “Seriously, I don't do blood. You can't just show me a dead animal without warning me!”

I shrug. “It's just nature, kid. Gotta eat to live. And we're gonna need a lot of food to get us all the way to New York.”

Kitty nods, still not wanting to look at the carcass. “Just, I dunno, warn me first, okay?”

I grunt, and after a few more moments of cooking, I pull the strips of deer bacon off the pan, put them on a small plate from the cabin's supply closet, then offer it to Kitty.

The kid looks at the deer meat and makes a face, but after a moment, the picks up a strip and bites into it.

“Thishh … tayshht…mmf” she says as she takes another bite, before she's even done with the first bite. “It…*gulp*...it tastes really bad.”

“Sorry,” I nod, “I'm not much of a cook. But you’'ve gotta make sure deer meat's cooked all the way through, so you don't get parasites. Don't want to travel with somethin’ nasty tagging along. Which reminds me..you got a phone on you?”

Kitty nods, and rustles around in her pile of blankets and heavy clothes before pulling out a smartphone. “The battery is almost out, but if we can get it to a charger, we can HEY!”

I drive my claws into the phone, shattering the glass and cracking the electronics inside, then throw it on the ground and stomp on it until it's pulverized.

“What the hell, Logan!” Kitty shouts. “That was a birthday present from my parents, they saved up all year for it!”

“You know how easy it is to track a cell phone, kid?” I ask her. “Half the programs on those things are loaded up with spyware. I'd bet you anything those assholes that attacked you last night knew where you were following that phone.”

“Paranoid much?” she scoffs.

“It's not paranoia when they really are out to get you,” I say, “and they are. Whichever organization those guys worked for, they're not going to give up just because a couple of their grunts went down. They're gonna try again, with more guys and bigger guns. Which means we've gotta move soon, and we can't leave any way for them to track us.”

“Okay, I..I got it,” Kitty nods as she finishes the last of her deer bacon. “So no cell phones, no footprints, no trash that could give away where we went, yeah?”

“No strong smells either,” I add. “You've got something on you, smells like coconuts. It's a dead giveaway.”

Kitty blinks, then sniffs her forearm. “What, my skin cream? It's not even all that strong, what do you…oh eww, are you, like, sniffing me in my sleep or something?!”

Kitty takes a few big steps away from me, a look of revulsion on her face.

“It's part of what I do,” I say, hands up again. “Enhanced senses. Lets me see in the dark, hear things most people can't, smell things from miles away. How do you think I got that deer in pitch black?”

Kitty doesn't look convinced. Hell, I wouldn't be convinced either, if I were her.

“Right,” she says. “Buuut, even if you can smell my skin cream a mile away, mutations are usually unique, right? So wouldn't that mean you're the only one who can do it?”

“...well, th-”

“Oh wait, dogs!” Kitty interrupts. “They use bloodhounds to track people, right? Do they even still do that?”

“Sometimes, yeah, especially in the woods,” I answer.

And it isn't a lie.

But it isn't really the truth, either. And it isn't what I was going to say.

Truth is, I'm not the only one who can do what I do.

Still, she's scared enough already. Better she doesn't know about him. Not yet, anyway. One nightmare at a time.

“We're gonna need to get a move on soon,” I change subjects, finishing off the deer meat. “I've got a pickup truck stashed away not far from here,” I say as I start to break up the camp. “We'll need to head East to meet up with one of my contacts in Winnipeg; he can get us the paperwork we need to get into the States. We cross the border at Buffalo, and from there it's a straight shot to Westchester. Should be about three and a half days driving if we don't get slowed down. Time to spare.”

Kitty raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“By what?”

“You said ‘time to spare,’” she says. “Are we on a time limit now?”

Shit, I mutter to myself. I shouldn't have let that slip.

“It's…a long story,” I say carefully. “For now, let's just say your timing really could've been better.”

“Right,” she says, skeptical again. She's not satisfied with the answer, but that's the only answer she's getting.

A few minutes pass in relative silence as we put out the fire, pack up Kitty's things, and clean the cabin til there's no trace we were there.

We start heading through the valley down an old game trail, towards another one of my safe houses where I'd stashed the truck. If the kid does a half-decent job of keeping up the pace, we should make it there before evening.

Around the halfway point, Kitty stops in her tracks.

“You know, it just occurred to me how screwed up this is,” she says, “You kill a bunch of guys from the government, you smash my cell phone, you say you know what my skin cream smells like, and now you're making me follow you to a second location. This is, like, every red flag possible.”

I look back at her, and realize she's got a point. I haven't given her any reason to trust me, other than that I killed some guys that were after her.

“Wish I had more to give you than just my word,” I tell her. “but it's all I've got right now. There's about a thousand wild animals between here and the next town. You know what the only difference between them and me is?”

Kitty shakes her head.

“I can make a promise, and keep it,” I tell her. It's only a half-truth: I can make a promise and try to keep it, at least. “You stick with me, I'll make sure nothing and no one gets a hand on you. Promise.”

She doesn't answer, so I add “And anyway, you can run through walls. If you want, you can run and I can't catch you.”

“Good enough for now,” Kitty shrugs. “Just don't get any ideas, okay?”

I chuckle. “Kid, I'm old enough to be your granddad, probably older than that. I stopped having those kinds of ideas a long time ago.”

We hike along in silence for another two hours or so, then eventually, we reach an old tumble-down farmhouse with a garage on the side. Sliding up the garage door, there's a beaten-up pickup, covered more in rust than paint.

“There's a town about an hour southwest of here,” I say. “We'll stop there to grab some cash, supplies, a couple changes of clothes.”

The suspension audibly creaks as I hop into the bed of the truck and lay down against the back of the cab. “You know how to drive, right?”

“I, ah, I got a learner's permit,” Kitty says sheepishly.

“Close enough,” I say, “Just don't get pulled over. Keys are in the glove box”

Kitty nervously climbs into the cab, and after a couple of false starts, the engine starts.

As the truck rumbles down the long dirt road towards civilization, I let myself fall asleep.

Ultimate One Universe: Emergence

Took a while, but the first post for Jonah/Ghost Rider is up. It, uhh, ended up being a good bit darker than I initially thought. Lemme know if it's too much, and I'll revise.

Ultimate One Universe: Emergence

Warning: Contains Unsettling Content

Calvert, Oklahoma
February 3rd, 1864

The wind that howled across the open plains was a bitter cold, the kind that blew right through their dusters and chilled to the bone. The dark of midnight bore down on Jonah heavily as he stood closer than he'd like to the fire, the only source of heat and light for miles. The smoke stung his eyes and choked his lungs, but he couldn't step back from the blaze. Part of him, small at first but larger and stronger the longer he stared, wanted to step into the flames himself.

An hour ago, these burning timbers were a church-house. An hour ago, the flecks of ash that rose from the center of the blaze were people. An hour ago, the air that now only carried the crackling of flaming wood was filled with gunfire and screams.

A few steps closer, and Jonah wouldn't see those faces anymore, wouldn't hear all those voices crying for mercy. It’d be justice.

No. Not justice.

Vengeance…

"Fuckin' hell, Jonah," Jeb Turnbull slurred, whiskey on his breath as he stumbled into his friend, "I reckon we went too far on this one."

Jonah blinked a few times with his good eye, his reverie broken by Turnbull barging in on it. He glared at Jeb for a moment, then turned away. "It's what yer paw wanted, ain't it?"

"Ah guess," Jeb said, his head lowered, "Still, I can't hardly figure what good it's doin."

"An' what makes you think we're here ta do good, baby-boy?" Eddie Cantwell jeered at Jeb. "Our outfit ain't called Satan's Servants for nothin!'"

Jonah snorted at that. He had hated the name “Satan’s Servants” ever since Jeb’s father had dubbed them when he hired them for this enterprise. It wasn’t that it offended Jonah’s sensibilities; he hadn’t been raised Christian, and very few things in their Good Book lined up with his experience of the world. He just hated the name because it was so damned corny.

Eddie Cantwell. John “Blackjack” Burgis. Tobias Manning. Lucas “Mad Dog” McGill. Their ringleader, Victor “Starman” Sono. And Jonah himself. The six of them had all been facing the gallows just a few months earlier, before they were granted a special “pardon,” dragged from the various holes they’d been stuffed into while waiting to die, and shipped to a massive plantation in Virginia. That’s where they’d met their employer, Quentin Turnbull.

Turnbull was the richest landowner in the Confederacy, and had considerable political influence; in the few times he’d been in the company of Southern high society, Jonah had heard rumors he was planning to give President Davis the boot as soon as the war was over, and was only propping him up to take the fall if they lost. And he’d gathered a half-dozen of the most vicious killers in the South–which, given the state of the war, was quite the statement.

”I love my home,” Quentin Turnbull had told them that night, having offered them warm meals, good whisky, a comfortable place to kick up their feet, and the first taste of ‘the good life’ that many of them had ever experienced. ”but my beloved Virginia, and indeed all of your homes, face an existential threat the likes of which we have not seen since the tyranny of King George. While I am confident that our boys will succeed in the noble cause of driving back the Northern aggressor, I do believe that in order to secure our victory, we may find ourselves forced to take what some might call….unsavory measures…”

Quentin’s plan was simple. Gather up a gang of the most evil bastards he could find, and set them loose along the western front. The idea, Turnbull stated, was that they would ”raise unholy hell itself, committing every sin the mind could imagine,” along Union-friendly towns and forts, so that the Blue-coats would have to devote more of their troops and weapons towards chasing them down, a diversion so the Gray-coats could strike more valuable targets. In return, he’d offer them a full pardon.

Jonah had known the promise was bullshit. Oh, sure, Quentin might have pulled strings to get them cut loose if any of them came back alive. But that was never going to happen; this ride was just as much a death sentence as if he’d stayed in his cell and let them hang him. But he took the offer anyway, preferring to die in his saddle than on the terms of some crooked lawman, stringing him up for killing someone even more crooked.

”Think of it as me giving you a last chance to do what comes natural to you,” Quentin Turnbull had told them. ”I believe each of you has been touched by the Devil in one way or another. And now you have my blessing to go and do the Devil’s work…”

So here they were, in the smoldering soot and blood-soaked dirt that used to be the town of Calvert. This was the twelfth town they’d hit, and each time Satan’s Servants had ridden into down, they had lived up to their name more and more.

Jonah had gone on raids with the Apache when he was young, and he knew the kind of things they’d do to unwary settlers. He’d seen the remains of towns that had been hit by Comanche, by banditos from south of the Rio, by Yankees and Rebs trying to demoralize the other side. He knew the kind of savagery men could visit on the weak and the innocent. Hell, he’d participated in it himself on more than one occasion. But even as stone-hearted as he’d become, what they were doing on this ride, it didn’t sit right with him.

And what they’d just done in Calvert had topped them all.

”Hooo, God damn, that one had some spirit in him!” Victor Sono called out as he strode from the ruined jailhouse, fixing yet another star-shaped badge to his vest. ”Fella kept his poker-face longer’n any lawman I’ve ever had the pleasure of cuttin’ on yet, thinkin’ he weren’t gonna give me a scream, not gonna give me the satisfaction.”

The front of his vest was almost blinding with the gleam of the fire-light from all the polished badges he’d collected. ”Oh, but I got my scream by the end of it, believe you me.”

”What is it with you an’ lawmen, anyhow?” Tobias asked between scrapes of his knife against the skull of the schoolteacher, her eyes still open in shock. He’d taken to collecting scalps, and developed a preference for blondes.

”Never did like folks who thought they could tell me what I could and couldn’t do,” Sono shrugged. ”I like to show ‘em that their tin stars don’t make ‘em special.”

”God damn right!” Cantwell said. ”Ain’t no man livin’ that can stop us!”

”That ain’t what he means,” sneered Mad Dog McGill as he cut another long strip from a bloody shank of meat. Jonah chose not to wonder where the meat had come from. ”We ain’t any more special than these sorry sonsabitches. There ain’t nobody who’s special. We’re just dead meat in the end.”

Jeb scowled at the three outlaws as they celebrated. ”Ffffuck, but you’re a real piece a work,” he slurred. Jeb had been sent along with the other six on his father’s orders, and he’d been the only one to voice any kind of objections to their actions. And while his protests had grown quieter and quieter, he was the only one in the company who hadn’t so much as drawn his gun on this ride. McGill and Manning had planned to skin him and leave him in a ditch before they’d even crossed the Mississippi, but Hex had stopped them. Jeb was the only one of the gang that Jonah could stand; he was the only one who still had any shred of a soul left in him.

”It’s done,” said Blackjack Borgin, an enormous black man with a pickaxe slung over his shoulder, and dark red stains splashed up and down his front. Borgin hadn’t spoken a word since the raid began. Hell, he’d barely said more than ten words to any of them since they’d set out from Virginia. Usually, he had just let his pickaxe do the talking.

Borgin pulled something from the pocket of his overalls– an old, yellowed scrap of what looked like parchment paper– and handed it to Jeb. The Turnbull boy looked around nervously, the sight of that scrap sobering him up quick, then stuffed the scrap in his coat.

”N-no witnesses, yeah?” he asked. ”Like my Pa ordered?”

Borgin just nodded. The mayor of Calvert had a large family, a frail old mother, a pretty young wife, and five children who couldn’t have been older than ten.

”Jeezus, yer one cold-hearted fuck,” Cantwell said. ”I ain’t never had a problem cuttin’ up men, even women-folk if they get too lippy. But little old ladies and youngins?”

Borgin shrugged. ”Fuck ‘em,” is the only answer he gave.

Jonah had pulled the trigger on a hell of a lot of people on this ride, none of whom had it coming. His work was always quick, one through the heart or the brain-pan, painless as he could manage. He knew he was a monster, but the other riders of Satan’s Servants, they loved being monsters.

While the other outlaws laughed, and Jeb stumbled off to their wagon, Jonah Hex looked at the flames again. He heard the people of Calvert screaming again. He heard their voices form around a single word.

Vengeance

”All right, boys, we’re done here!” Victor called out to the gang. ”And as much as it might pain me to say it, our revels are very nearly at an end. We’ve hit twelve of the thirteen targets that our dear benefactor, the esteemed Mister Turnbull, has set for us. Which means we’ll soon be moving on to our final target….”

---

Fort Charlotte, Texas
February 19th, 1864

”J…*ghkk!*...Jonah…” Jeb gurgled, blood bubbling up in his throat and leaking out of another half-dozen holes up and down his body. ”Ah think….think’m….dyin’.”

The air was thick with the smell of smoke, spent gunpowder, burning grass, and fresh blood. Three paces to his left, Blackjack’s legs twitched violently. Four more paces from them, the rest of Blackjack was still. Behind them, steam rose from the mass of pulverized meat that used to be Mad Dog McGill. To their right, Victor Sono’s hands were frozen in place, forever clutching at the red mess where his face used to be.

A hundred paces in front of them, the guns of Fort Charlotte still smoked, jeers of triumph rising from inside the high timber walls. He’d never know how the Yankees had known they were coming, but their midnight raid was over before it even began, Satan’s Servants cut to pieces by grape-shot and Gatling guns before they could even get off a shot.

Jonah Hex crawled on his belly through the mud, white-hot agony searing him as filth seeped into his own bleeding wounds, but nonetheless he pulled himself over to his friend. Dying was too good for Jonah and the other riders, but Jeb didn’t deserve to be here with them in the mud.

”Ah’m here, Jeb,” Jonah grunted through gritted teeth. ”You shouldn’t a been here.”

Jeb tried to laugh, began to choke. ”Naw, I’m…I’m no saint. Never tried…to stop this…”

”Ain’t the same as doin’ it yerself,” Hex tried in vain to comfort the dying man.

”We…had this comin’,” Jeb wheezed. ”All of us. Me…most of all.”

Jonah caught a flicker of light from the corner of his bad eye, a flame from a burst cannon shell. Again, as the fire flickered, he heard the voices of the dead.

Vengeance

”Th-..*hkk!*...the pages…Jonah…” Jeb fumbled frantically inside his jacket, his hands shaking as he produced a handful of yellowed parchment scraps. ”G…git these…t-*kghk!*-to…_{my pa…}”

Jeb shuddered violently for a moment, then lay still, his eyes wide open, staring forever into the night sky.

Jonah tried to crawl closer to him, tried to reach the papers in his lifeless hands, but his strength gave out. With the last bit of energy he had left, Jonah rolled onto his back, staring into the same blackness as his departed friend.

Vengeance

”It’s…it’s all wrong…” he muttered to no one. Jonah had never been the type for praying; if there was any kind of almighty power who planned out his life, then he had nothing to say to that sonofabitch. But now that there was no one to hear what he had to say, he might as well say it. ”since…the day ah was born, it’s always been wrong. Mah life…the lives ‘round me…the whole God damned world…it’s all wrong. Ah’d…ah’d give…”

He took one more deep breath. The last he would ever take.

”Ah’d give up anything to set it right.”

As Jonah Hex let out his last, his voice carried up into the dark night sky.

His body went cold. Time stretched out. Every second became an hour…a day….a year….an eternity.

Jonah closed his good eye, expecting it all to go dark.

Instead, out of his bad eye, he saw a figure step over him. A thin, well-groomed man in a fine red suit.

”Mercy me,” the man said, ”Jonah Hex himself. I must admit, I have been eagerly anticipating the chance to properly make your acquaintance for some time indeed. I do have to admit, however, it is a trifle disappointing to finally meet you face-to-face, only to find you in such a lamentable and profoundly fuckin’ sorry state.”

Jonah stared up at the stranger, and suddenly, he was no longer cold. His skin now stung from burning heat, as if he were back in Calvert, standing just a few feet from that burning church house again.

”Who…the hell…are you?”

The stranger grinned. ”Who the hell, indeed. I’m someone who’s interested in enacting a great deal of change in this wicked world, but regrettably somewhat lacking in the ability to do so without a willing agent.”

Jonah stared up at the man in confusion. The stranger sighed.

”Did I just not hear you say that you would give up anything to set this world right?” the man asked.

”Ah…ah guess,” Jonah shrugged.

”Then I have a proposition for you,” the man said with a smile.

Around them both, the world fell away. And in its place was fire, a fire that roared from all sides.

VENGEANCE

”Ah’ll ask again,” Jonah said, propping himself up on a ground that no longer existed. ”Who the hell are you?”

The man smiled wide, a broad toothy grin that never touched his eyes. He offered a hand to Jonah. ”You, my friend, can call me–”

---

”--Mister Church,” said Kate Marston, a doughy middle-aged woman in a sweater with kittens on it. ”That was the man who told us how to meet you.”

”He said you might be able to help,” said her husband Tim Marston, a thin balding man wearing a t-shirt with “Jesus Loves You” printed on the front.

6 miles south of El Paso, Texas
Present Day

The couple stood nervously at the hideous man on horseback who stared them down. The husband held a sheet of paper, a printed out email, that simply stated the coordinates and time to meet ‘your contact.’

The last slivers of sunlight were fading over the horizon, their bright green hatchback the only car in sight on either of the two long country back-roads that intersected where they stood.

Jonah Hex chuckled without a trace of mirth. He supposed they might have balked if ‘Mister Church’ had told them to stand at a crossroads at sundown, but give them the specific time and place and it didn’t sound so unusual.

”Depends on whatcha mean by ‘help,’” he told them.

”Our little girl, Izzy,” Kate started, ”She’d just turned nine. We’d read an article about this….this summer camp….Camp Mackie. She could…she could make new friends, have fun in the woods….we…we thought…”

As she choked back sobs, Tim stepped in. ”Izzy never came back,” he said. ”We drove up there to pick her up, but when we got there, the camp was abandoned. We called the police, of course, but they weren’t any help.”

”We’d been putting money aside,” Kate said, ”You know, for Izzy’s college? We had to spend it all, hiring a private investigator. He looked all over, but he never…the only thing he was able to find was a scrap of her pajamas.”

”We thought that was it,” Tim added. ”We thought it’d just be a mystery we’d never have an answer to. Then a few nights ago, we get contacted by this ‘Mister Church’ person.”

Jonah’s stomach churned. He knew where this was going.

”He…he sent us a link on the internet…a place on the…the dark web…” said Kate. Those words didn’t mean much to Jonah– that world wasn’t one he wanted anything to do with. But he’d seen and heard enough to get the gist of it.

”It was…it was a video,” Tim stammered, his skin turning green with sickness. ”It was just called ‘Izzy Does It.’ And…and it was her…and there were these men…and they…they…oh God…”

The father turned away and retched into the dirt. The mother looked up at Jonah with pleading eyes.

”He said you could help us!” she begged. ”Please, just…”

”Ah’m sorry,” Jonath said, ”but if yer hopin’ to get yer little girl back….Ah cain’t do that. If ah’m here at all…that means she’s already dead.”

Jonah watched their desperation turn to despair, watched this mother and father, their little world they had built for themselves, all crumble. The Marston family was broken, forever He hated himself for telling it to them, but it was better that they didn’t have any illusions about what comes next.

Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.

”But there’s somethin’ ah can help you with,” he continued. ”Ah can find those men. An’ ah can make ‘em pay for what they did.”

The Marston parents looked gravely at each other, then back to Jonah. ”Yes.”

Jonah held up a hand. ”’fore we do this, ah want to make it clear. You agree to this…there ain’t no takin’ it back. You can walk away from this, right now. Those men go free, but you get to see yer little girl again, in the Hereafter. Ah go after those men, though, an’ Ah drag their sorry souls to Hell….an’ when the time comes, you follow on after. What Ah’m offerin’...it ain’t justice.”

As Jonah spoke, the air smelled of brimstone, and his face began to bubble and peel away. As the Marstons watched, Jonah’s face became a bare, bleached skull. Flames erupted from within him.

”Those men need to suffer,” Kate spat, ”I don’t care what happens to me.”

”You find them,” Tim nodded, ”You make them pay for what they did to our Izzy. To hell with everything else.”

Jonah Hex extended his hand to seal the pact. The Marstons took his hand, and the flames roared.

Vengeance

Ultimate One Universe: Emergence

It'll take a bit longer for Superman to be up for interaction due to not being Superman yet. Once this initial arc is over, he'll be down for some collabs.

Hulk, I don't know yet. I'm still trying to figure out where to go with him in the beginning.

Granted, even a recently born Hulk is a lot to throw at anyone in this setting right now. I'm playing the only other character who might match him on a pure durability level. So maybe I should just isolate him for the moment.

@Master Bruce

I mean, there's another indestructible guy wandering around in the woods right now, who's got some pretty famous cover art of him fighting the Hulk. Just sayin'.

AZUL Islands - Drama, Romance, Mystery, Slice of Life

Bobby T

Name: Bob Townsend, Jr.
Nickname: Bobby T.
Age: 43
Gender: Male
Occupation: Real Estate Broker at Townsend-Chigusa Holdings International

Appearance:
Bobby is in excellent shape for a middle-aged man, thanks in no small part to his obsessive diet and workout routine. He has sandy blonde hair that's combed back just enough to look a bit unkempt, and a beard that's carefully groomed to give him a certain air of rugged independence. He frequently wears garish or tacky ties with his impeccable suits, and is almost never seen without his favorite pair of mirrored shades. Bobby puts a tremendous amount of time, effort, and care into looking casual and messy.

Character Concept:

"Bobby T" is a charming, laid-back, personable kind of guy, the kind who will buy everyone a round at the bar, and has a bottomless well of off-color jokes that are dirty enough to raise an eyebrow but not enough to offend. He likes to hear people's stories, find out their wants and their needs and their goals, get to know everyone he meets, and do whatever he can to help them...and have plenty of fun along the way.

Of course, 'Bobby T' is the front. Behind the mirrored shades and the ridiculous tie, Bob Townsend Jr. is a deeply insecure narcissist who uses any means necessary to further his own career. The black-sheep heir to one of America's largest real estate firms, Bob Jr. has spent his life living in the shadow of his overbearing father...which is why he likes to spend his days somewhere sunny. What was once a rebellious streak in his younger years has grown into ruthless ambition: if he can't escape following his father's footsteps, he'll instead outdo him so far that everyone will forget the old man and love him instead.

Bobby has come to Azul looking for his next big opportunity, with the long-term goal of turning this little archipelago into the next big tourist hot-spot.

Character History:

Bob Townsend Jr, "Bobby T" to his friends (which might include you, if you're lucky) was the middle child of Bob Townsend, Sr., one of the most successful real estate moguls in America. With his older brother Richard starting his own law firm and his sister Meredith becoming a doctor, Bobby Jr. always felt like he was struggling to meet his father's expectations. He spent his younger years as a rich kid playing rebel, burning through his trust-fund money on wild parties and lavish trips as he bounced from one career to another. Eventually, though, all of his failed attempts to forge his own identity led him back underneath his old man's shadow, and he took at job in the family business.

To nobody's surprise but his own, Bobby T was a natural at closing deals, and by 35 he had rebuilt the fortune he had pissed away in his twenties. His disarming, laid-back attitude, combined with his keen eye for seeing an opportunity and ruthlessness in seizing it, has landed him several lucrative contracts, especially in the hotel and tourism industries. While still a far cry from the top of the heap, most people at Townsend Holdings (having recently merged with a competitor to become Townsend-Chigusa Holdings International) believe it is only a matter of time before he makes a play for his father's throne. He just needs a big project, one crowning achievement, to get him onto the board.

Which, incidentally, is what has brought him to Azul. For the past six months, Bobby T. has been talking with members of the Cardenas family about plans to expand their winery. This, however, is just a front for his long-term plans. Townsend-Chigusa has been looking for a "development-ready market," a little spit of land somewhere in the Caribbean that they can turn into the next big tourist destination. Bobby has come to Azul to scout out the local flavor, participate in some of the local customs, buy a hotel or two, and look for a big enough tract of land to bulldoze so his father's company can set up a billion-dollar resort.

Likes:
-Making people laugh
-Long conversations where people really open up to him
-Adrenaline/any kind of 'thrilling' activity (racing, cliff diving, sex with a stranger, etc)
-Spicy food
-Cigars
-Rum
-90s alt-rock music

Dislikes:
-Anything with coconut
-Being told no
-Women over 40
-People who won't shut up about their politics or idealism
-Other corporate 'suits' like himself
-Himself

Special Talent:

Bobby is a skilled helicopter pilot, preferring to fly himself wherever he needs to be rather than have someone do it for him. This is partly to feed his hunger for thrills, and partly so he can feel like he's more 'self-sufficient' than other corporate big-shots.

Supporting Information:

Machiko Chigusa: Bobby's "babysitter" from the Chigusa side of the merger, Machiko is the no-nonsense counterpart to Bobby's all-nonsense persona. She is businesslike when he's playful, blunt when he's being smooth, and seems to only be aware of the concept of 'fun' as something that happens to other people.

Ronaldo Cortez: A local who grew up on Isla Zafrio, Ronaldo is Bobby's personal security while he's on Azul. More often that not, he spends most of his days showing Bobby the local restaurants and clubs, all the places the locals go because the tourists wouldn't know about them. He is, however, well-trained and armed if anyone happens to see an American flashing money around and starts getting ideas.

La Casa Del Sol Nasciento: The hotel whose penthouse Bobby has been staying in since arriving on the islands. It's the oldest hotel on Isla Zafrio, and by most accounts, the second best, with a killer view of the beach, a rooftop pool, and most of the amenities a reasonably well-to-do jet-setter could expect. Bobby is considering buying the property, if only so he can pull off an 'underdog' story by turning it around to beat the much larger and more successful Casa de la Contessa down the street.

Jealousy: Bobby's private chopper, Jealousy is what he calls his Airbus H155 helicopter. Only one of 70 in the world, it's one of the fastest copters on the planet, can comfortably seat up to 12, and acts as the big 'showstopper' of any performance Bobby puts on when he really wants to impress someone. The name isn't a reference to its luxurious features or its outrageous price tag, but actually a reference to his favorite song from the 90s, The Gin Blossoms' "Hey Jealousy."