AndyC

Ultimate One Universe: Emergence

Content Warning: Graphic and/or disturbing content

Paranormal Consultancy-Technomantic Solutions
2nd Floor Office, Animal Industries Building, Texas A&M University

"--don't mean it's not real," Mary Le Bow protested, her thick London accent a stark contrast to the Southern drawl of her professor. "It's just a ma''er o' findin' the right medium to record the evidence!"

"And so far, all you've recorded is a tremendous amount of expense," Professor DuVall responded. "We've been offering grant money to your 'paranormal consultancy' project- rather generously, I might add- as part of our humanities and performing arts department, but you seem to be laboring under the delusion that you're performing actual science here."

The professor gave a dismissive sniff at the young woman, dressed in a leather jacket, denim shorts, and fishnets, who returned the derision with a defiant sneer. With her two-toned black-and-white hair and punk-rocker garb, Mary didn't exactly give off the air of a respectable scientist, which always seemed to rub Professor DuVall the wrong way.

The Animal Industries Building on campus was long rumored to be haunted, home to the restless spirits of all the animals who had undergone experiments during the science department's more ethically-questionable days. When Mary had come to the United States to study America's occult history, she had appealed to the Texas A&M faculty that leaning into the campus's haunted heritage would be a great way to drum up publicity and student activity. Under the guise of a 'performing arts' project, she'd set up her paranormal consultancy service to help people with issues beyond their understanding, and to help fund her own private research into the arcane.

"But i' is actual science, Prof!" Mary pleaded. "I've been keeping meticulous records of all of my processes, forming hypotheses, eliminating what doesn't work--"

"Which, so far, is everything..."

"But that's progress! It means I'm gettin' closer to findin' what does work!" Le Bow said. "I've been able to produce real solutions to people's problems. I just need to figure out the process of how I can do it, and then--"

"Enough, Miss Le Bow," Professor DuVall cut her off. "I've spoken to the board, and they are in agreement. Your project has been an amusement, but now it is becoming an inconvenience to the faculty and student body alike. You are to either produce tangible evidence of your supposed supernatural findings by the end of the semester, or return all of the material you've appropriated to the proper departments. And unless an actual honest-to-God ghost happens to walk by in front of my very eyes, I'm going to have a hard time believing--"

"'scuse me," a harsh, gravelly voice cut in. "'s this where ah can find a lady by the name a' Mary Le Bow?"

Professor DuVall turned to see the ugliest man he had ever seen.

Dressed in a wide-brimmed hat, long leather duster, and garb that looked like he'd stepped off the pages of an old-timey dime novel, the stranger stood out in the college science department like a sore thumb. The half of his face that even remotely passed for normal might have been carved from granite, all hard angles, his one good eye in a half-squint, his lips pressed in a cold hard line. The other half of his face was a mangle of scar tissue, a lidless milky-white eye staring straight ahead, half his mouth pried open in a permanent rictus grin.

"I...I-I'm sorry, y-you--" Professor DuVall stammered.

"I'm Mary Le Bow!" the punk girl said brightly. "Paranormal consultant and technomancer, at yer service! 'Ow can I 'elp you, love?"

"Need help findin' a missin' girl," the grotesque man said, shoving past the sputtering professor. "Rather, ah need ta find the men who took that little girl."

"Might I recommend calling the proper authorities, Mister...?" Professor DuVall tried to interject.

The half-faced cowboy glared at the professor, and DuVall felt his soul shiver. "Ah know who ah'm callin' on. You can see yer way out."

For a moment, Professor DuVall thought about protesting, then merely nodded his head and left.

"Fwoah, I never seen a bloke put that kind of fear into the Prof that quickly," Mary said with a laugh. "'ow'd you pull that off?"

"Looked into his soul," the stranger said. "Reminded him of his past. You'll wanna avoid havin' any drinks 'round him, I reckon."

Mary gave the stranger an inquisitive look. "I don't believe I've got your name, stranger."

"Just call me Jonah," he said.

"Jonah, yeah, all right," Mary nodded. "So...why d'you think I can be of any service to you?"

"Got an employer," Jonah said, staring at the wall of computer monitors in Mary's 'Technomantic Laboratory,' "says you can do things with contraptions that ah cain't. He said to find you, an' ask fer your help identifyin' some men in a film on somethin' called a 'dark web.'"

Mary's face turned sour. "Can't say I like the sound of that," she said. "Typically, someone shows up in a video on the dark web, it's usually somethin' 'orrible."

"Horrible's about right," Jonah nodded. "By my count, the missin' girl's already dead. Ah'm after the men who did it. An' to do that, ah need to see what they did. Need to pick up the scent of it."

"The scent o' what?" Mary asked.

"Sin," Jonah answered. "Ah'm a good tracker, but the physical trail's gone cold. Reckon mah employer let that happen so ah'd have to track 'em this way. Ah need to witness the sin, get a scent fer the evil that was done, an' from there me an' mah pretty side can track down the souls with that stain on it."

"Your...employer? 'oozat, then?" Mary wondered aloud. "Who'd want that to trail to go cold?"

"Calls hisself 'Mr. Church' when he's 'round me," Jonah said. "an' he's not someone you wanna get involved with."

"Mister Church..." Mary said to herself, glancing over to one of her bookcases, stacked with old books on old-world occultism, before she gasped. "You mean Mephis--"

"Careful with that name, little lady," Jonah cut her off. "You invite someone like Mr. Church into your world, he might decide to stay a while. Now then, this here film ah'm lookin' fer. Mr. Church says yer a...a tech-no-somethin'..."

Nodding, Mary turned to her wall of monitors. "A technomancer. Means I can work with machines and explore the digital world with just me thoughts. An' I can come an' go anywhere on the web without leavin' a trace. Makes lookin' around for things real easy-like. But this, ah, this video...is this something you really want to see?"

"Ah'd just as soon not see it," Jonah shrugged, "but it ain't about wantin'. Ah need to see it, to pick up the trail."

Mary shrugged. "Suit yourself, love. What's the name of it?"

"Says it's called 'Izzy Does It.'"

Mary winced. "Ohhh, no. That's a real awful one. Never watched it meself, but it's got a reputation."

Jonah raised his one good eyebrow. "How do you know about this kinda thing?"

"I'd rather not say. But suffice to say, you're not the only one 'ere that's gotten involved in evil things. I'd bet that's why your friend Mister Church knew to look for me."

Jonah shrugged. "Fair enough. Can you do it?"

"Just a tick, love," Mary said, putting her hand against the wall of monitors, her eyes rolling back in her head.

The screens flickered to life, each one a blinding barrage of images, thousands of pages flashing in and out of view across dozens of screens as Mary scoured the virtual world.

Jonah whistled as the punk girl searched. He was a creature of an old world, he'd never be able to truly understand how this technology was supposed to work, and how Mary was breaking every rule of it. But he could get the idea of just how much information she was sifting through, like running through every book in a library and reading every page along the way.

After a few minutes, Mary's eyes rolled forward. "Found the site. It's...well, I'm afraid it's every bit as bad as I thought it would be."

The only monitor still active showed a plain page, white text on a black background.

CAMP KANDY

BEYOND XXXXX

Underneath the title, there was a place to enter payment information, something called 'crypto' that Jonah didn't recognize.

"Last chance to turn back, friend," Mary warned him.

"Open it up," Jonah said, "Then you'll want to git out."

With a squeamish look, Mary bypassed the pay window, and opened a directory of videos, each with innocent-sounding names that belied their vile nature.

"Penny's Pool Party."

"Horseplay with Hannah."

"Kelsie's Cook-Off."

"A Walk in the Woods with Wendy."

And sure enough, right in the middle of them, was one titled "Izzy Does It."

Jonah stared at the nightmare he saw unfolding on the screen, and the room began to smell with smoke and sulfur.

"Innocence...defiled..." a voice came from Jonah's mouth, but not the one the cowboy had spoken with earlier.

On the screen, a young girl was being subjected to torments no one should ever know. Surrounding her were four men, five including the cameraman. They wore masks to hide their faces, but some had marks on them. Scars. Tattoos. Symbols of evil and hate that marked them for the monsters they were.

"A soul....desecrated..." the voice said, and Jonah began to burn. Quite literally.

Flames erupted from the collar of his jacket, engulfing his head. Despite the agony of the fire, Jonah did not scream. The room was filled with screams already, coming from the girl on the screen.

"Flesh...devoured..." the hellish voice said from inside the flames. Jonah's head was now a blazing skull, the room itself a furnace from the heat of the fire.

On the screen, when the masked men had sated their lecherous hunger, one of them stepped into view, carrying a knife.

"VENGEANCE...." the flaming skull demanded. "VENGEANCE FOR--....wait....no..."

The man with the knife had something in his other hand. Jonah recognized it the second he saw it.

It was a page, an old scrap of yellowed parchment. Just like the ones Jeb Turnbull had been collecting for his father a century and a half ago.

The flames dispersed as Jonah's face reemerged, as if nothing had happened.

"...that cain't be..." Jonah said, his good eye wide.

"All just dead meat in the end, little lady," the man on the screen said as he approached his victim. "You just got to yer end quicker'n most."

"Mad Dog McGill..." Jonah said as the monster on the screen carried out his ungodly work.

Mad Dog had ridden with Satan's Servants all those years ago. Jonah had seen him do some of the most depraved things imaginable on that awful ride. And Jonah had watched him die, alongside himself and the rest of the Servants, under the guns of Fort Charlotte.

And yet, the Mad Dog roamed the Earth once more.

VENGEANCE the flames roared within him, and Jonah nodded his head.

"Yeah," he agreed with the hellfire in him, "Vengeance is comin'. Fer Mad Dog, and I reckon fer all of us..."

Mechwarrior: Disposable Heroes

That one looks good to me

Mechwarrior: Disposable Heroes

Well, we do have that spare Catapult.

Ultimate One Universe: Emergence

I need to get more than a single post in for Jonah/Ghost Rider before I start futzing about with collabs just yet.

Mechwarrior: Disposable Heroes

Dinah is APPROVED

Mechwarrior: Disposable Heroes

Colonel Wayne considered each of his Knights' questions, and tried to answer as many as possible.

"The concerns about engaging with the Crimson King are valid," he began. "I expect he'll want to keep me alive long enough to put on a show, but I don't believe for a second that any one of the Crimson Fists will be interested in a fair fight. Sabotage to the Mech is practically a given, as is the notion that the other Fists will be waiting in the wings. In fact, I'm counting on it. The more of them are waiting to take me out, the fewer of them will be at the Fort."

At Marit's comment, he glanced at his prosthetic hand. "The neural link controlling my prosthetic will interfere with my ability to wear a neurohelmet, that's true. As much as I'd like to, the simple truth is I'll never be able to pilot a Battlemech the way I used to. But I don't need to beat the Crimson King; I just need to stay alive long enough to keep him busy. And my Battlemaster still has enough armor on her that even sustained fire from an entire lance won't bring her down easily."

Glancing over at technician Wyatt, the Colonel gave her an appraising look. She'd definitely come a long way since the coup, from a talented but reserved weapons tech to being able to parlay with a Comstar Precentor. He'd began to lean on her for her burgeoning abilities as the 'face' of the Green Knights' operation, but in truth her real expertise was still working with Mechs. "Wyatt: as per your request you're coming with me. Assuming the Crimson King is going to hedge his bets, you're my best chance at sniffing out sabotage. I'll see if I can get someone else to negotiate with the FPA for use of those Thumpers."

Looking at his Mechwarriors and the crew of the Von Luckner, he went over the tactical overview. "As for those of you conducting the assault on the fort, the first phase of this operation is simply to draw their fire. Ramrod and Desperado, the two of you keep moving, hit what you can where you can, and bring your fire on whatever provides the biggest threat in the immediate moment. Assuming we are able to get the Thumpers on our side, Alley Cat will be instrumental in calling targets. Family Man, I want you to take an elevated position and put that PPC to use against any armored assets that come in for backup. Giggles, your Archer has enough armor to absorb a lot of the small fire, so don't be afraid to brawl, but listen for Alley Cat's signal to provide fire support as well. Merry-Go-Round, as the Mechs clear the way and draw fire, your crew will come up the pass and blast through the fixed positions."

"In the event that Sgt Dalton gets hung up, we go to plan B," he continued. "Any mech with functioning hand actuators will need to enter the complex and start opening doors. If prisoners aren't able to get to the underground tunnels, we may have to physically pick them up and carry them out. Obviously, that means you may have to choose who you take and who you leave; I'm confident that I can trust in your discretion on that."

Taking a deep breath, Gaius said, "There's a good chance that I don't come back from my duel with the Crimson King. In that event, tactical command of the Green Knights is entrusted to Lance Commander Daschke, with advisement from Sgt. Dalton. Logistical command and coordination of the civilian contingent will go to Captain Roth, once she's freed from the Fort. Once operations on Espia are concluded, you'll all receive your share of payment in full, and you'll be free to discuss the future of the command from there."

Ultimate One Universe: Emergence

<Snipped quote by AndyC>

If we're truly week one, I like the idea that Waller is SHIELD and not head of one of the other hundred alphabet organizations. It doesn't make sense for all of them to already exist.

@Retired

Yeah. DC has way too many "we want to have our own version of SHIELD but can't stick to any one concept so we've got like a thousand shadowy organizations with acronym names" groups, so i figured it'd be cleaner to just lump them all into SHIELD. Since that's what they're all pretending to be anyway.

Mechwarrior: Disposable Heroes

It doesn't appear that Hamazasp Sulser would be able to fit in this lore, would he?

@QJT

Depends on what they were doing at the time; this game takes place a few years before the Rasalhague one. And because the two RPs aren't necessarily canon to each other, you can always make edits to fit. There are ways to work in some new Mechwarriors, depending on what ideas you've got.

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.”