Member
Sensation & Wonder Presents: THE AMAZING SPIDER-MAN
ISSUE #1: ALONG CAME A SPIDER
Queens ♦ New York City
Words go here.
- Last Seen: 13 hrs ago
- Joined: 8 yrs ago
- Posts: 1626 (0.56 / day)
- VMs: 9
-
Username history
- Supermaxx 3 yrs ago
- █████████ 5 yrs ago
- ███████████ 5 yrs ago
- ██████████ 6 yrs ago
- ████████ 8 yrs ago
-
Latest 10 profile visitors:
-
Most recent →
mickilennial,
Mao Mao,
Asura,
LG,
Master EffeX,
Half Pint,
Lemons,
Sep,
Eviledd1984,
AlteredTundra
Status
Recent Statuses
3 yrs ago
Current
is sexualizing Pokemon a variation of bestiality?
3
likes
3 yrs ago
lol. lmao
7
likes
3 yrs ago
JOHN TABLE!
1
like
4 yrs ago
hearing rumors that rebornfan is storming the US capitol, looking for whoever's responsible for everyone ghosting his RPs
14
likes
4 yrs ago
you got a fat ass and a bright future ahead of you. keep it up champ
1
like
Bio
Most Recent Posts
S P I D E R - M A N
S P I D E R - M A N
S P I D E R - M A N
"With great power comes...who am I kidding. You know the rest."
C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T _________________________________________________________C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T  _________________________________________________________ C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y _________________________________________________________C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y Spider-Man | Peter Benjamin Parker _________________________________________________________ American | Human Mutate | Journalist _________________________________________________________ New York City | New York | United States C H A R A C T E R N O T E S C H A R A C T E R N O T E S K E Y E V E N T S P O S T C A T A L O G | C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T With great power comes great responsibility. These were the last words of advise Uncle Ben gave before his death at the hands of a common mugger. Peter Parker took those fateful words to heart, dedicating the rest of his life to protecting the people of New York City. Wielding mutated powers gifted to him by a genetically-altered spider, Peter Parker is your friendly neighborhood SPIDER-MAN. His vigil has stood unbroken for over a decade. He's done battle with dozens of costumed villains, murderous vigilantes, corrupt businessmen and petty tyrants. His first love, Gwen Stacey, died in his arms at the hands of the Green Goblin. When Peter discovered the Goblin was actually his mentor and his best friend's father, Norman Osborn, Peter confronted him. Their climactic battle ended with Norman suffering mortal wounds. Harry Osborn preserved his father's life with experimental cryogenic tech, and vowed terrible vengeance against the violent vigilante, Spider-Man. Five years ago, Peter married Mary-Jane Watson, acclaimed actress and close friend. The two had a daughter together, Anna-May Parker, and moved into Forest Hills, Queens. Peter finally received the recognition he deserved from J.J. Jameson and earned himself a permanent position at the Daily Bugle as a crime reporter and photojournalist. Things have only gotten stranger in the last month when a sixteen year old girl in a spider costume climbed in through his window claiming to be his daughter from another dimension. P L O T ( S ) & G O A L ( S ) P L O T ( S ) & G O A L ( S ) I've been greatly enjoying the Ultimate Spider-Man run and started re-reading Renew Your Vows, and felt inspired to write a Spider-Man that's allowed to grow up. He's a family man now, with even more personal responsibilities than ever before. Peter Parker's struggle to juggle the many different facets of his life is a core part of his character, in my opinion: can he really continue to protect the city as Spider-Man without neglecting his personal life? Can he hold down a decent job, pay off his mortgage, and afford to send his kid to school someday? His every day struggles are deeply relatable to me, and those are the aspects I find most compelling and plan to integrate into his story. Of course, the hard part isn't just getting by: its doing all that while villains in colorful costumes attempt to tear New York City apart, and Spider-Man's the only one that can stop them. All of his classic villains are in play: Doc Ock, the Lizard, Electro, Sandman. Norman Osborn is in a life-threatening coma after his last fateful battle with his web-slinging nemesis, but his son, Harry, is still out for revenge. There's a dimension-hopping, feral Venom looking to slaughter Peter's new teenage daughter. Peter's been Spider-Man for a decade now. He's been in more superhero team-ups than there are hours in the week. I'm hoping to leave a lot of room for other spider-adjacent characters like Miles Morales or Silk to be picked up by interested parties. S A M P L E P O S T S A M P L E P O S T Please include a short writing sample that demonstrates how you plan to write the character. This does not have to be used as a post later, but you are welcome to do so if your really vibing with it. As long as it shows your writing style and how you envision your character's voice and actions in the roleplay, or your wider plot, have at it! |
.
UOU Presents: THOR, GOD OF THUNDER
ISSUE #9: A Soldier's Plea
A Fortress in the Mountains ♦ Germany
In the mists of old memory, a castle stood in Alpine mountains. Field guns and anti-aircraft turret stood sentinel on ancient stone walls. Men in grey-green woolen uniforms patrolled the parapets. They were gaunt-faced, pale ghouls who'd seen too many winters with too little food. Symbols of evil were pinned proudly to their sunken chests: the swastika, clutched in the talons of an eagle; and the head of the hydra, with its many reaching tendrils.
Below the walls, the castle courtyard bustled with activity. Frantic soldiers fought to roll nine massive boulders into a circle while imprisoned craftsmen carved occult runes into stone. A gaggle of officers directed the work. Among them stood a tall, slender man with dark hair and emerald eyes. The corners of his lips never fell from their slight smirk.
"The work is nearly finished. The Führer will be pleased, I hope."
Another officer looked up, astonishment and bewilderment plain on his face. "The Führer is dead, sir. Months gone."
"Oh, is he? Drat." The emerald-eyed man's grin rose a little. "Then his heir will be most pleased, whoever they are."
With a flourish, he clapped his hands and stepped forward, raising his voice to address the garrison. "It is time to begin! Someone bring me my staff. Light the fires. The wonder weapon we shall use to win this war will soon be upon us."
The officer to speak up furrowed his brow and walked briskly up behind the emerald-eyed man. "Sir, you said Herr Shmidt sent you here-"
"Yes, Mr. Smith, good fellow."
"Shmidt. But we have not heard from him in some time. Not before you showed up out of nowhere with all this talk of- of magic and, well, the officers have some concerns-"
With a flick of his wrist, the emerald-eyed man sent a handful of pixie dust directly into the Nazi officer's eyes. He spat, sputtered and coughed, waving in the air to clear it. "W-what the devil did you do?!"
"You trust me implicitly. With your life and the lives of all your men."
The Nazi stopped. He turned his now bloodshot eyes toward the strange sorcerer with the pixie dust. "I trust you implicitly, of course." He stumbled for a moment, righted himself, and then threw up as crisp a salute as he could manage. "Hail HYDRA!"
The sorcerer waved him off. "Yes, yes, hail HYDRA. Now leave me to my work before the Allies arrive to spoil the fun."
"The Allies, sir?"
Moments later, a plane engine could be heard hollowing in over the mountains.
"Oh, goodie, right on schedule!" Loki Laufeyson declared, taking his staff from the hands of an aide and waving it in wild patterns above his head. The ritual fire danced in concert with his motions, and the voices of old spirits rose up in song.
Thor clutched his head as a spike of pain racked his mind. Moments from a forgotten past slipped through whatever enchantment plagued his memories. These were stranger than he cared to admit, seen not from his own eyes but from...
He felt his throat go parch. A cautious hand went to the wall so he might rest a moment. He needed time to think. Time to parse what was happening to him. These fragments did not explain the whole of the mystery, but they offered some few answers. T'was his late brother that placed this curse on him, clearly. And it explained how a man of present day Midgard might know the ancient rituals of summoning.
Was the wielder of this shield not the honorable warrior Thor assumed, but instead an old agent of Loki seeking aid from his patron? That felt wrong somehow, as if he knew the answers yet it remained just out of reach.
"Answers. He will have answers for me." Odinson grumbled, shoving off the wall to rise once more.
It was only then that Thor noticed the guard hammering a baton against his back.
"Hm? Oh, my deepest apologies, warrior." Thor turned to face the man.
The guard, mid-swing, made direct contact with Thor's face. The god could only offer a remorseful look in response before knocking the man unconscious with a light punch. He tried to be gentle: it was the least he could do for humiliating the poor soul in the midst of battle.
Onward into the facility Thor pressed, following the sounds of battle as best he could amidst the chaos. With casual swings of mighty Jarnbjorn, he shattered the chains and broke open the cells of any prisoner that asked it of him. He had no idea who any of them were or what crime they might have committed to end up in a frozen hell like this, but it mattered not. Thor was already thrashing their wardens; to leave them here would only doom them to the cold, harsh future of a broken prison with no one to watch over them.
Thor tried to kill as few mortals as he could manage, but it was a difficult task. They were such fragile creatures. Skin like glass and bones of bark shattered more easily than he was used to. Still, he felt little guilt for the deaths he did bring. Each and every one of them would pass on to the gates of Valhalla. Carried to those halls by the Valkyries, they would be met with an endless well of ale and jubilation for all time. What better life could there be?
Somewhere up ahead, someone uttered his name.
Faster than anyone his size had a right to move, Thor charged forth. He stopped caring for petty things like hallways and doors. Instead, he lowered his shoulder and shattered concrete to make his own path. Guardsmen and prisoners alike scattered in a panic as he broke through wall after wall, finally emerging where he first heard the call go up. Here, he found a bruised and battered soldier doing battle with a crimson sorceress.
That was him. His square jaw, golden hair and bulky frame stood out like a beacon in his mind's eye.
"Never fear!" He bellowed, lifting his axe high. "The ALMIGHTY THOR is here!"
The shield practically leapt from his hands as Thor tossed it across the room to the soldier it truly belonged to.
Below the walls, the castle courtyard bustled with activity. Frantic soldiers fought to roll nine massive boulders into a circle while imprisoned craftsmen carved occult runes into stone. A gaggle of officers directed the work. Among them stood a tall, slender man with dark hair and emerald eyes. The corners of his lips never fell from their slight smirk.
"The work is nearly finished. The Führer will be pleased, I hope."
Another officer looked up, astonishment and bewilderment plain on his face. "The Führer is dead, sir. Months gone."
"Oh, is he? Drat." The emerald-eyed man's grin rose a little. "Then his heir will be most pleased, whoever they are."
With a flourish, he clapped his hands and stepped forward, raising his voice to address the garrison. "It is time to begin! Someone bring me my staff. Light the fires. The wonder weapon we shall use to win this war will soon be upon us."
The officer to speak up furrowed his brow and walked briskly up behind the emerald-eyed man. "Sir, you said Herr Shmidt sent you here-"
"Yes, Mr. Smith, good fellow."
"Shmidt. But we have not heard from him in some time. Not before you showed up out of nowhere with all this talk of- of magic and, well, the officers have some concerns-"
With a flick of his wrist, the emerald-eyed man sent a handful of pixie dust directly into the Nazi officer's eyes. He spat, sputtered and coughed, waving in the air to clear it. "W-what the devil did you do?!"
"You trust me implicitly. With your life and the lives of all your men."
The Nazi stopped. He turned his now bloodshot eyes toward the strange sorcerer with the pixie dust. "I trust you implicitly, of course." He stumbled for a moment, righted himself, and then threw up as crisp a salute as he could manage. "Hail HYDRA!"
The sorcerer waved him off. "Yes, yes, hail HYDRA. Now leave me to my work before the Allies arrive to spoil the fun."
"The Allies, sir?"
Moments later, a plane engine could be heard hollowing in over the mountains.
"Oh, goodie, right on schedule!" Loki Laufeyson declared, taking his staff from the hands of an aide and waving it in wild patterns above his head. The ritual fire danced in concert with his motions, and the voices of old spirits rose up in song.
Former Soviet Prison ♦ Siberia
Thor clutched his head as a spike of pain racked his mind. Moments from a forgotten past slipped through whatever enchantment plagued his memories. These were stranger than he cared to admit, seen not from his own eyes but from...
He felt his throat go parch. A cautious hand went to the wall so he might rest a moment. He needed time to think. Time to parse what was happening to him. These fragments did not explain the whole of the mystery, but they offered some few answers. T'was his late brother that placed this curse on him, clearly. And it explained how a man of present day Midgard might know the ancient rituals of summoning.
Was the wielder of this shield not the honorable warrior Thor assumed, but instead an old agent of Loki seeking aid from his patron? That felt wrong somehow, as if he knew the answers yet it remained just out of reach.
"Answers. He will have answers for me." Odinson grumbled, shoving off the wall to rise once more.
It was only then that Thor noticed the guard hammering a baton against his back.
"Hm? Oh, my deepest apologies, warrior." Thor turned to face the man.
The guard, mid-swing, made direct contact with Thor's face. The god could only offer a remorseful look in response before knocking the man unconscious with a light punch. He tried to be gentle: it was the least he could do for humiliating the poor soul in the midst of battle.
Onward into the facility Thor pressed, following the sounds of battle as best he could amidst the chaos. With casual swings of mighty Jarnbjorn, he shattered the chains and broke open the cells of any prisoner that asked it of him. He had no idea who any of them were or what crime they might have committed to end up in a frozen hell like this, but it mattered not. Thor was already thrashing their wardens; to leave them here would only doom them to the cold, harsh future of a broken prison with no one to watch over them.
Thor tried to kill as few mortals as he could manage, but it was a difficult task. They were such fragile creatures. Skin like glass and bones of bark shattered more easily than he was used to. Still, he felt little guilt for the deaths he did bring. Each and every one of them would pass on to the gates of Valhalla. Carried to those halls by the Valkyries, they would be met with an endless well of ale and jubilation for all time. What better life could there be?
Somewhere up ahead, someone uttered his name.
Faster than anyone his size had a right to move, Thor charged forth. He stopped caring for petty things like hallways and doors. Instead, he lowered his shoulder and shattered concrete to make his own path. Guardsmen and prisoners alike scattered in a panic as he broke through wall after wall, finally emerging where he first heard the call go up. Here, he found a bruised and battered soldier doing battle with a crimson sorceress.
That was him. His square jaw, golden hair and bulky frame stood out like a beacon in his mind's eye.
"Never fear!" He bellowed, lifting his axe high. "The ALMIGHTY THOR is here!"
The shield practically leapt from his hands as Thor tossed it across the room to the soldier it truly belonged to.
IC 286.08.16 // Petrichor-8 System, Frontier Planet Alora // Left Flank of the Battle Line
1603 hours // ♫ Hell Broke Luce ♫
The world was all smoke and noise and light. Teddy's head swam, the klaxons mounted inside his cockpit screeching a discordant tune. Danger, they screamed. As if he didn't know that already. With no small effort, he dragged his head high, blinking the spots from his eyes. There was a blade twice as long as he was tall jutting through his cockpit. Following its entry point to its exit, it went straight over his chair- right where his thick, stupid head would've been if he hadn't dove to the floor. Every bone in his body ached from the impact, but at least he could still breathe.
Throwing himself into the fray had been a stupid, bone-headed, moronic move.
To his right, the comm system blared with eighty-five's blustering voice. She was challenging that thing, alone. The one thing she wasn't supposed to do.
"Damn it," he wheezed, pressing his shaking palms to the steel underneath him. He pushed himself up onto his knees, propping his back up against the console as he took a moment's rest.
Then the proximity sensor wailed. Prawns descending on his location. Seconds away.
"Damn it, damn it, damn it!" Teddy fumbled his oversized fingers for one of the pouches on his webbing. Upper left row on his breast, furthest to the right. Inside was a needle. Pull off the plastic covering with one hand, drag back his sleeve with the other. Inject. A rush of adrenaline erupted through his bloodstream. His senses widened, sharpening every noise all at once until he felt like his brain might explode.
Teddy threw his weight into the cockpit's throne, strapping on the restrains as he opened his comms. "Platoon, tighten this formation right the hell now. I'm not losing this flank. Pull back and form a defensive line."
As he spoke, Teddy took hold of his control sticks and took in the damage. Left arm was inoperable with severe damage to the torso connection joint. Primary sensor array in the head was simply gone. Secondary array in the chest had taken over immediately. The tech was older, clunkier and generally less reliable. His monitor was filled with grainy, gray footage of the exterior that few others could've parsed at a glance.
"Hit the dirt, Zhejiang! Now!"
Outside, the Grizzly finally stirred. It did not rise to meet the foe that descended on it from every direction like a pack of ravenous dogs. Instead, it rolled on its back and lifted his right arm to the enemy. The Augsburg Autoshotgun underslung its wrist barked its protests, loud and clear. The first wave of legionaries ate a faceful of krakenshot flechettes. Four inch long knives exploded from their plastic shells to cut the pawns to pieces. The bear's claws were fierce things, even now.
Teddy ignored a warning light and cranked the overclock on his targeting computer. Needed to be faster. Ignore the shaking in his hands. Just nerves.
Rolling, the Grizzly flung its weight into the other side of the horde. Its left arm was useless as anything but a battering ram, so that's what Teddy used it for. Legionaries clung to his armored hull, ripping and tearing at the plating to get at the meat inside. Teddy bashed his left shoulder into the swarm, ignoring the loosening arm joint as he held them back long enough to clear his right and sweep the shotgun around to deliver death with express postal.
The pawns eating at his hull died just as their comrades had.
"What's a couple hundred more?!" Teddy thundered. "Come on! A few more, let's go!"
Rising to a knee, the Grizzly grabbed its Prometheus cannon from the mud and rested its barrel on its raised knee. Wielding the stolen fire of Olympus, the cannon roared its defiance. The Grizzly had to rotate its entire body to change its firing angle, chewing apart the already well-tread ground beneath its feet. All around him, the enemy fell in great droves. For all his smiling and assurances, death was Theodore Howser's lifelong profession.
1603 hours // ♫ Hell Broke Luce ♫
The world was all smoke and noise and light. Teddy's head swam, the klaxons mounted inside his cockpit screeching a discordant tune. Danger, they screamed. As if he didn't know that already. With no small effort, he dragged his head high, blinking the spots from his eyes. There was a blade twice as long as he was tall jutting through his cockpit. Following its entry point to its exit, it went straight over his chair- right where his thick, stupid head would've been if he hadn't dove to the floor. Every bone in his body ached from the impact, but at least he could still breathe.
Throwing himself into the fray had been a stupid, bone-headed, moronic move.
To his right, the comm system blared with eighty-five's blustering voice. She was challenging that thing, alone. The one thing she wasn't supposed to do.
"Damn it," he wheezed, pressing his shaking palms to the steel underneath him. He pushed himself up onto his knees, propping his back up against the console as he took a moment's rest.
Then the proximity sensor wailed. Prawns descending on his location. Seconds away.
"Damn it, damn it, damn it!" Teddy fumbled his oversized fingers for one of the pouches on his webbing. Upper left row on his breast, furthest to the right. Inside was a needle. Pull off the plastic covering with one hand, drag back his sleeve with the other. Inject. A rush of adrenaline erupted through his bloodstream. His senses widened, sharpening every noise all at once until he felt like his brain might explode.
Teddy threw his weight into the cockpit's throne, strapping on the restrains as he opened his comms. "Platoon, tighten this formation right the hell now. I'm not losing this flank. Pull back and form a defensive line."
As he spoke, Teddy took hold of his control sticks and took in the damage. Left arm was inoperable with severe damage to the torso connection joint. Primary sensor array in the head was simply gone. Secondary array in the chest had taken over immediately. The tech was older, clunkier and generally less reliable. His monitor was filled with grainy, gray footage of the exterior that few others could've parsed at a glance.
"Hit the dirt, Zhejiang! Now!"
Outside, the Grizzly finally stirred. It did not rise to meet the foe that descended on it from every direction like a pack of ravenous dogs. Instead, it rolled on its back and lifted his right arm to the enemy. The Augsburg Autoshotgun underslung its wrist barked its protests, loud and clear. The first wave of legionaries ate a faceful of krakenshot flechettes. Four inch long knives exploded from their plastic shells to cut the pawns to pieces. The bear's claws were fierce things, even now.
Teddy ignored a warning light and cranked the overclock on his targeting computer. Needed to be faster. Ignore the shaking in his hands. Just nerves.
Rolling, the Grizzly flung its weight into the other side of the horde. Its left arm was useless as anything but a battering ram, so that's what Teddy used it for. Legionaries clung to his armored hull, ripping and tearing at the plating to get at the meat inside. Teddy bashed his left shoulder into the swarm, ignoring the loosening arm joint as he held them back long enough to clear his right and sweep the shotgun around to deliver death with express postal.
The pawns eating at his hull died just as their comrades had.
"What's a couple hundred more?!" Teddy thundered. "Come on! A few more, let's go!"
Rising to a knee, the Grizzly grabbed its Prometheus cannon from the mud and rested its barrel on its raised knee. Wielding the stolen fire of Olympus, the cannon roared its defiance. The Grizzly had to rotate its entire body to change its firing angle, chewing apart the already well-tread ground beneath its feet. All around him, the enemy fell in great droves. For all his smiling and assurances, death was Theodore Howser's lifelong profession.
Sep's plan to get people to post is to harass, threaten and stalk them. He just showed up at my house with a large axe and fifteen men. Beware
The event is starting, slowly. Remember time in comic books is fluid.
@Pacifista I didn't specify a time so she could just happen to be in NYC for a variety of random reasons.
Maybe she wanted a bagel.
I think I now the people who are interested in this event. Then being
@Pacifista@Theyra@Lord Wraith and [Hound55]. If anyone else wants to weigh in, give me a shout beforehand so I can plan things out.
Shout-out to @Supermaxx for coming up with the name for the event
You're welcome for being perfect.
UOU Presents: THOR, GOD OF THUNDER
ISSUE #8: A Soldier's Plea
Former Soviet Prison ♦ Siberia
A man in crimson strode forth to challenge the God of Thunder. At his call, Thor rose from stooping over the blubbering prison guard he'd been interrogating moments before. He studied the man for a moment; racked his brain for the ghost of a memory he sensed earlier.
Nothing.
Thor clenched his fist in frustration. Many a time he had suffered the touch of enchantment, befuddling his mind and confusing his senses. It was hard to tell if this was the result of such arcane tampering, or if the stresses of his banishment were making him paranoid. He needed to understand.
"I know this shield," Thor raised the star-spangled device, glancing down over its gleaming form. Even now, he felt the tinge of familiarity at the base of his neck. Then he looked to the crimson man. "But I do not know you. I remember..."
He closed his eyes, and the ghosts returned. Mjölnir clashing against the shield with a thunderous boom. The man behind it remained shrouded in uncertainty, but Thor remembered the rush of battle. A formidable opponent stood against him, tough as old iron. Even when facing down a god he'd held his ground.
"Mmm. Yes." Thor grinned. "A test, then. Prove your mettle."
"The shield is mine."
With a casual heave, Thor flung the shield at Krylenko hard enough to shatter concrete. When the man caught it, he had only a moment to realize that Thor was flying right behind. Jarnbjorn was back in his hand, and he delivered twin back swings to either guard flanking the Red Guardian. They crumbled as wheat to the scythe.
Nikolai Krylenko backpedaled. He was quick, quicker than any human had the right to be. There seemed a grace to the way he wielded the shield, at first. His guard was smooth, practiced. Nikolai was clearly studying his opponent, waiting for an opening to exploit. A fine soldier.
A few probing swings into the shield proved what Thor already suspected: it would not break as most mortal arms did when facing the might of Uru. In fact, it didn't seem to matter how strong or light a swing was- the strange earthly material absorbed it just the same.
Mistaking Thor's casualness as a sign, Krylenko pounced. He slammed the shield against Thor's right hand, knocking Jarnbjorn aside so he could deliver a swift combination of punches to the Asgardian's midsection. They stung like biting locusts.
A night ago, before the Man-Beast, they may even have hurt.
"Hmph. I think not." Thor slammed Jarnbjorn into the floor between Red Guardian's legs, turning it to splinters beneath his feet. The ground began to give way, forcing Krylenko to try and leap back- opening his guard for Thor to reach in. He grasped Guardian around the face, holding it in his palm.
Flicking his wrist, Thor slammed the man into the wall. Then he began to walk, dragging Nikolai along the wall as he went. Concrete and twisted rebar broke against the super soldier's head. It was a tough nut to crack, Thor had to admit. Krylenko was even conscious for some of it. Thor didn't stop until he reached the double doors at the end of the hallway.
"You are not whom I seek." Guardian fell like a crumpled sack the moment Thor released him. The shield clattered to the floor at his feet.
Nothing.
Thor clenched his fist in frustration. Many a time he had suffered the touch of enchantment, befuddling his mind and confusing his senses. It was hard to tell if this was the result of such arcane tampering, or if the stresses of his banishment were making him paranoid. He needed to understand.
"I know this shield," Thor raised the star-spangled device, glancing down over its gleaming form. Even now, he felt the tinge of familiarity at the base of his neck. Then he looked to the crimson man. "But I do not know you. I remember..."
He closed his eyes, and the ghosts returned. Mjölnir clashing against the shield with a thunderous boom. The man behind it remained shrouded in uncertainty, but Thor remembered the rush of battle. A formidable opponent stood against him, tough as old iron. Even when facing down a god he'd held his ground.
"Mmm. Yes." Thor grinned. "A test, then. Prove your mettle."
"The shield is mine."
With a casual heave, Thor flung the shield at Krylenko hard enough to shatter concrete. When the man caught it, he had only a moment to realize that Thor was flying right behind. Jarnbjorn was back in his hand, and he delivered twin back swings to either guard flanking the Red Guardian. They crumbled as wheat to the scythe.
Nikolai Krylenko backpedaled. He was quick, quicker than any human had the right to be. There seemed a grace to the way he wielded the shield, at first. His guard was smooth, practiced. Nikolai was clearly studying his opponent, waiting for an opening to exploit. A fine soldier.
A few probing swings into the shield proved what Thor already suspected: it would not break as most mortal arms did when facing the might of Uru. In fact, it didn't seem to matter how strong or light a swing was- the strange earthly material absorbed it just the same.
Mistaking Thor's casualness as a sign, Krylenko pounced. He slammed the shield against Thor's right hand, knocking Jarnbjorn aside so he could deliver a swift combination of punches to the Asgardian's midsection. They stung like biting locusts.
A night ago, before the Man-Beast, they may even have hurt.
"Hmph. I think not." Thor slammed Jarnbjorn into the floor between Red Guardian's legs, turning it to splinters beneath his feet. The ground began to give way, forcing Krylenko to try and leap back- opening his guard for Thor to reach in. He grasped Guardian around the face, holding it in his palm.
Flicking his wrist, Thor slammed the man into the wall. Then he began to walk, dragging Nikolai along the wall as he went. Concrete and twisted rebar broke against the super soldier's head. It was a tough nut to crack, Thor had to admit. Krylenko was even conscious for some of it. Thor didn't stop until he reached the double doors at the end of the hallway.
"You are not whom I seek." Guardian fell like a crumpled sack the moment Thor released him. The shield clattered to the floor at his feet.
IC 286.08.16 // Petrichor-8 System, Frontier Planet Alora // Surface Landing, Left Flank of the Battle Line
1603 hours // ♫ Every Planet We Reach Is Dead ♫
The MBM-78 Grizzly stomped down the Galea Dropship's ramp, every step thundering with the sound of two hundred tons of steel. Its racket only ended with it dropped into the grey, sloshing mud of Alora's surface. They'd finally arrived. Teddy pulled back on the throttle and applied the break lever, slowing the Grizzly's plodding advance twenty feet off the ramp. He paused to take in the apocalypse.
According to reports from the fleet, corrosion levels were dangerously high, and a glance along the horizon proved as much. What few trees still stood were shriveled husks gasping out poisonous air. Even locusts wouldn't feast on these crops. And then there were the cities. Dear God above, the cities...
Teddy's eyes started to glaze over only a couple of paragraphs into the 'acid rain' section. He closed the report. The days ahead would be grim enough without knowing the gritty details. Besides, the truth was obvious to anyone who bothered to look: Alora was bleeding to death.
"Let's give 'em hell, eighty-five." Teddy called over comms. For Alora.
The noble Zhejiang al Mortuus-Orbitae had grown on him, he must admit. Watching her apparate atop his mech made his eyes shine with a childish glee. No matter how often he witnessed them, constellation phenomena never ceased to amaze in person. It brought him back to crowding around a vid screen with his siblings to watch the defenders of humanity stand tall against the Aberrants that killed their home. Even now, he could hear the heroic brass and strings they always played in those propaganda casts. Then the seal of the MHA would flash in golden metal, and the baritone-voiced announcer would implore you to speak to your recruiting officer today.
Teddy wondered if a Stardust like Zhejiang understood what she meant to the infantry setting up fortifications below them. Did she see the awe reflected in their eyes? The desperate plea for salvation? He couldn't imagine what that did to a person- to be seen as an avenging angel instead of flesh and blood. Teddy knew he would've crumbled under the weight of their expectations long ago if that were him.
He tightened his grip on the control sticks. "Stay close n' remember to be vocal, okay? Can only have your back if you tell me where you're goin'. I know you're quick so I won't bother tellin' ya to stick right on me. Just gimme a heads up 'fore you get all teleporty. You lead, I follow."
It wasn't long before the rumbling began. Athousand biomechanical aliens descended upon them like a crimson tide. Among the legionaries marched plenty of bishops. Some were the typical Spearmen, designed to crash through a front line like a hammer through stone. They were a blunt weapon. Stupid, predictable, but dangerous if underestimated. Teddy had seen their like more often than he could count. They weren't what worried him.
The disc-headed, blade-armed Outlanders were. They could tear a Constellation apart with a single lucky swipe. Teddy knew from experience just what it looked like when an overly confident connie let themselves get swiped. It wasn't pretty watching an angel die.
Maximus 'Antares' Solignis gave orders to the team as easily as most people breathed, his experience and confidence woven through every word. He and Eorman would hopefully focus on those Outlanders so they never had the chance to challenge the Stardusts.
"Wilco, Antares. Good huntin.'"
The X-66 Prometheus Rotary Cannon spat out a thousand rounds and change over the next three minutes. Teddy kept his groupings tight and tried not to overkill the legionaries, damnably difficult as it was. Those bastards could be leaking out their metal guts and missing three limbs and they would keep on coming. He had to be careful to track the path of the destruction the two Main-class connies were cutting in the back line as well; wouldn't be great for his career if Teddy accidentally misted one or them with a stray round.
Among the swarm, Teddy could see three Bishops had escaped the duo's whirlwind of destruction. Lictor had smartly pulled Newman to the side and isolated one of them, taking it apart amidst a mob of pawns. They seemed to have the situation well in hand.
Aissi, Dombay and Zhejiang were descending on a second spearman on the leftmost flank, Eight-Ball providing them cover fire. Teddy felt his heart beating in his throat, even as a wall of plasma from Alto's strange rifle consumed a dozen pawns. Despite their lack of combat experience, they seemed to be holding their own.
Teddy spotted the Outlander hiding among the second wave of legionaries descending on the gaggle of greenhorns. It was moving low and quick, hoping the tide would obscure its approach long enough to leap on an unsuspecting target.
"Behind!" Teddy yelled, sweeping his Prometheus around. He cranked a switch in the cockpit and the cannon's thump thump thump turned into a screeching, continuous brrrtttt as its rounds per minute maxed out for just a moment. A barrage of gatling fire turned the Outlander's screen of pawns into a fine powder. The toughened crimson bodies of hardened biomass and mechanical armor may as well have been cardboard for all the protection it gave. The Prometheus hitched a moment later, internal cooling systems forcing a halt as the barrels glowed bright orange with heat.
The Outlander pounced, its shield blazing to life amidst the hail of bullets. It couldn't have cared less about the wall of lead- it only head eyes for the connies.
When it needed to, the Grizzly could haul ass. Teddy slammed the throttle against its housing as hard as he could, and the cockpit began to shake violently with the sudden forward momentum. The beta-class Aberrant core in his guardian shield flared to life just as the Grizzly's two hundred and twenty-five ton body slammed into the Outlander's outstretched claws. The two shields flared, energy crackling as they intermingled. The Outlander's core was far stronger, however, and it soon won out- throwing the Grizzly onto its ass with a titanic thud.
"Agh, damn it!"
Looming over him, the bishop raised a bladed arm to drive it straight into the Grizzly's cockpit.
1603 hours // ♫ Every Planet We Reach Is Dead ♫
The MBM-78 Grizzly stomped down the Galea Dropship's ramp, every step thundering with the sound of two hundred tons of steel. Its racket only ended with it dropped into the grey, sloshing mud of Alora's surface. They'd finally arrived. Teddy pulled back on the throttle and applied the break lever, slowing the Grizzly's plodding advance twenty feet off the ramp. He paused to take in the apocalypse.
According to reports from the fleet, corrosion levels were dangerously high, and a glance along the horizon proved as much. What few trees still stood were shriveled husks gasping out poisonous air. Even locusts wouldn't feast on these crops. And then there were the cities. Dear God above, the cities...
Teddy's eyes started to glaze over only a couple of paragraphs into the 'acid rain' section. He closed the report. The days ahead would be grim enough without knowing the gritty details. Besides, the truth was obvious to anyone who bothered to look: Alora was bleeding to death.
"Let's give 'em hell, eighty-five." Teddy called over comms. For Alora.
The noble Zhejiang al Mortuus-Orbitae had grown on him, he must admit. Watching her apparate atop his mech made his eyes shine with a childish glee. No matter how often he witnessed them, constellation phenomena never ceased to amaze in person. It brought him back to crowding around a vid screen with his siblings to watch the defenders of humanity stand tall against the Aberrants that killed their home. Even now, he could hear the heroic brass and strings they always played in those propaganda casts. Then the seal of the MHA would flash in golden metal, and the baritone-voiced announcer would implore you to speak to your recruiting officer today.
Teddy wondered if a Stardust like Zhejiang understood what she meant to the infantry setting up fortifications below them. Did she see the awe reflected in their eyes? The desperate plea for salvation? He couldn't imagine what that did to a person- to be seen as an avenging angel instead of flesh and blood. Teddy knew he would've crumbled under the weight of their expectations long ago if that were him.
He tightened his grip on the control sticks. "Stay close n' remember to be vocal, okay? Can only have your back if you tell me where you're goin'. I know you're quick so I won't bother tellin' ya to stick right on me. Just gimme a heads up 'fore you get all teleporty. You lead, I follow."
It wasn't long before the rumbling began. Athousand biomechanical aliens descended upon them like a crimson tide. Among the legionaries marched plenty of bishops. Some were the typical Spearmen, designed to crash through a front line like a hammer through stone. They were a blunt weapon. Stupid, predictable, but dangerous if underestimated. Teddy had seen their like more often than he could count. They weren't what worried him.
The disc-headed, blade-armed Outlanders were. They could tear a Constellation apart with a single lucky swipe. Teddy knew from experience just what it looked like when an overly confident connie let themselves get swiped. It wasn't pretty watching an angel die.
Maximus 'Antares' Solignis gave orders to the team as easily as most people breathed, his experience and confidence woven through every word. He and Eorman would hopefully focus on those Outlanders so they never had the chance to challenge the Stardusts.
"Wilco, Antares. Good huntin.'"
The X-66 Prometheus Rotary Cannon spat out a thousand rounds and change over the next three minutes. Teddy kept his groupings tight and tried not to overkill the legionaries, damnably difficult as it was. Those bastards could be leaking out their metal guts and missing three limbs and they would keep on coming. He had to be careful to track the path of the destruction the two Main-class connies were cutting in the back line as well; wouldn't be great for his career if Teddy accidentally misted one or them with a stray round.
Among the swarm, Teddy could see three Bishops had escaped the duo's whirlwind of destruction. Lictor had smartly pulled Newman to the side and isolated one of them, taking it apart amidst a mob of pawns. They seemed to have the situation well in hand.
Aissi, Dombay and Zhejiang were descending on a second spearman on the leftmost flank, Eight-Ball providing them cover fire. Teddy felt his heart beating in his throat, even as a wall of plasma from Alto's strange rifle consumed a dozen pawns. Despite their lack of combat experience, they seemed to be holding their own.
Teddy spotted the Outlander hiding among the second wave of legionaries descending on the gaggle of greenhorns. It was moving low and quick, hoping the tide would obscure its approach long enough to leap on an unsuspecting target.
"Behind!" Teddy yelled, sweeping his Prometheus around. He cranked a switch in the cockpit and the cannon's thump thump thump turned into a screeching, continuous brrrtttt as its rounds per minute maxed out for just a moment. A barrage of gatling fire turned the Outlander's screen of pawns into a fine powder. The toughened crimson bodies of hardened biomass and mechanical armor may as well have been cardboard for all the protection it gave. The Prometheus hitched a moment later, internal cooling systems forcing a halt as the barrels glowed bright orange with heat.
The Outlander pounced, its shield blazing to life amidst the hail of bullets. It couldn't have cared less about the wall of lead- it only head eyes for the connies.
When it needed to, the Grizzly could haul ass. Teddy slammed the throttle against its housing as hard as he could, and the cockpit began to shake violently with the sudden forward momentum. The beta-class Aberrant core in his guardian shield flared to life just as the Grizzly's two hundred and twenty-five ton body slammed into the Outlander's outstretched claws. The two shields flared, energy crackling as they intermingled. The Outlander's core was far stronger, however, and it soon won out- throwing the Grizzly onto its ass with a titanic thud.
"Agh, damn it!"
Looming over him, the bishop raised a bladed arm to drive it straight into the Grizzly's cockpit.
© 2007-2024