Courtaud

MARVELS: Streets of New York

I must say the new rivals reveal is making me wish I'd floated the idea of playing a still-under-the-thumb-of-kingpin Emma Frost I had as a concept before thinking it might not be street level enough.

Not that I'm not set on Gwen but such is the curse of the ADHD writer.

@Ezekiel

Sounds like we need a GM for a Rivals RP

MARVELS: Streets of New York

Is there any limit to how frequently we are allowed to post? Just in case

Post-Apoc Society or Sci-Fi Space Rescue Crew

Interested in trying for the Beacon Pilot!

MARVELS: Streets of New York

Punisher War Journal

This class of criminal is embarrassing. Not only are they the usual run of gutter trash, they have no decorum. No class. No sense of organization. Instead they stand around with their junk in their hands, trying to out intimidate each other. They lean against shipping containers with the obvious goal of looking the most badass. None of them are. When I get my hands throttled around them later, they'll know where they stand in the pecking order. They'll drip cowardice down their pant legs and cry out for their mothers - even though they were wearing "really cool sunglasses."

When I lock in a fresh clip to the SIG-Sauer, it almost hisses. She's as anxious to Punish as I am. I could wipe out this whole group of them from this distance, but then they would scatter. Some tough guy would turn and start blind firing. He wouldn't hit me, wouldn't come close. Instead he would just distract me from breaking the bones of all of his compatriots. Delay that sweet sweet moment where I get to hear legs snap out of the skinbags they were slagged in.

I have to wait to hear more. Micro has already maxed out the distance volume on the sound tracers. I can hear every wheeze of these idiots asthma and shudder in the cold all while keeping them thoroughly in scope. What I'm waiting for is to hear a little more information. There are things that these monsters would say to each other easily, things they'd only say to me after I show them my bone-saw. And my bone-saw is ready.

After about 30 minutes of pointless jawing, they finally bring up what I need them to. Sinister. A new type of inhalant that works with the same sort of physics as the rebreather of a scuba mask. Disgusting. More drugs to sink deeper into the cesspool of their own minds. A part of me feels remorse - their lives as worthless as cracks in pavement, and this drug the one thing that brings them some sort of peace from that reality. They will find no peace. Not while I still breathe. Not while there is still air in my lungs. They won't be allowed to sleep until I am dead. Between now and then, there is only punishment.

---

The War Journal isn't always written down. Sometimes, Frank Castle just narrates in his own head. Or less of a narration and more of an internal death march. A man as lonely as Frank (although he wouldn't exactly admit it) has to keep a conversation going in his head, otherwise all he will see and hear are the bloody deaths of his family. With things as bad as they are, Frank Castle has to do what he can to stay sane. The success of this is up for debate. Frank Castle will tell you he's the sanest man in the City. This part is not up for debate - he is in fact furthest from it. Psychologically speaking.

With a flash of a muzzle, the chaos reigns. Gunfire and punishment, hailing down like gods fury in the old testament. The dozen or so dealers gathered around an open trunk immediately draw their heat, looking around in a panic. Cops wouldn't just open fire like this. Not a mask either. Maybe another gang? Or else...him.

A young looking man with a lip piercing calls out to his heavy on his left, only to have the top half of his head shredded in a shotgun blast. He was mid-vowel. His friend screams and turns, thinks he makes it a few steps but it's just the dying thoughts as his synapses fire off their last - his guts hit the pavement before even his knees, as he falls face first in his own spilled viscera.

It's over in only an instant.

12 men splayed across the shipping yard docks, the car in which handled the merchandise honking an embarrassing alarm, as if having it's own seizure. Castle fired into the dashboard, putting out of it's misery (and warranty.)

He surveyed his own work. Saw blood already spattered across his white boots. It looked good. He admired his handiwork for a moment before he heard a buzz in his ear. Micro on comms, likely out of the mobile command center. "The Battle Van" he liked to call it. The Punisher clicked the confirmation button on his earpiece, alerting Micro that he was available and listening.

"Castle. Got an update regarding two of your flagged specials. Or at least possibly. First: rumor is that Eddie Brock is back in town. The Lethal Protector. Given enough time, we should be able to track him easier, set up some sort of hello." Micro sounded eager, excited. He usually only sounded this way when he had actual intel for Frank.

"Second, the Police have reported a stiff - drained of blood completely. It's the M.O of the living vampire. Could be he's got his ire up again."

"Who was the victim?" Frank asked, his voice gruff, short, stern.

"TBD. If it's not Morbius, it's someone a lot like him."

Frank considered this.

"If he's out there killing innocents, then he'll be as dead as lip-piercing over here. I need a lift. Bring the van. We're taking some of this back with us. That drug - Sinister. Take a look at it and let me know what you think. Or find someone who can." Frank closed his comms. He didn't need to tell Micro where he was, the guy was an incredible hacker - a whiz with anything computer related. He'd find him soon enough.

And then Frank has a couple people of his own to find.

MARVELS: Streets of New York

"I'll say this once, we're not the same. You took an oath to uphold the law. You help people. I gave that up a long time ago. You don't do what I do. Nobody does. You boys need a role model? His name's Captain America, and he'd be happy to have you.... If I find out you are trying to do what I do, I'll come for you next."

T H E P U N I S H E R

---

^{_{Frank Castle ♦ Judge, Jury, Executioner ♦ The Bronx ♦ Unaffiliated}}

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:

---

^{"Some people would tell you that I'm crazy. They would be wrong. It's not crazy when the state of the world makes you want to kill everyone responsible. It's crazy when it doesn't."}

This version of Frank Castle will have a very back to basic origin. His family - a wife, a little boy, and a little girl - all mowed down in front of him while out at Central Park. Frank however would have had NO connection to the killers. No hidden "he was the target secretly" or anything like that. This will keep Frank's horrific and cold worldview in sync: the world is not fair. Criminals in the world must die. The violent men of the world must be fed their own violence back to them threefold.

Undoubtedly violent, potentially sociopathic, chillingly brutal - all descriptions not far off the mark from ol' Frank Castle. A hard as nails man at war with the world, Frank has been active as The Punisher for some time, long enough that the giant white skull that adorns his chest means something to the criminal scum that walk the city, and the old timers who employ the newest wise-guys. Frank Castle has a complicated relationship with the heroes at large in this universe. His extreme methods put him at odds with the various superheroes who cross his path who sometimes find themselves aligned with Frank temporarily, their team unity often cut short due to The Punisher's willingness to kill. It isn't uncommon for someone like Spider-Man to find themselves fighting alongside The Punisher only to attempt to arrest him at an opportune time. Frank however is battle-hardened, paranoid, and quick to make a violent exit.

C H A R A C T E R M O T I V A T I O N S & G O A L S:

---

I want to bring Punisher into the mix in order to bring a bit more chaos and risk to missions and engagement with the other characters. Having a sort of wild card of perpetual violence and death can make for good dramatic material, and can cause strife among the players. I would not however play an unbeatable unflappable Frank. I am very comfortable with having my character be wrong, beaten, or else look like the foolish one when it comes to interactions with others. With the additional mafia taking a larger role plot-wise, I believe having the Punisher involved would be inevitable in having heroes cross paths.

I'd like this version of The Punisher to be back in his old school black and white spandex: bring that sort of 90's vibe with his look back and make it feel more comic-booky. My favorite Punisher stories are always when he is crossing paths with masked heroes, as the "This is COOL Punisher where he murders everyone and he wears a bullet proof vest only and hates everything and also superheroes are dumb" style of comics are actually my least favorite Punisher stories (sorry Garth Ennis's Punisher MAX run)

I do have this idea of Frank potentially trying to put together his "version" of a superhero team, but what is, in essence, actually more of a Marvel Universe Death Squad. I think it would be fun to have a relationship with Eddie Brock as the lethal protector, potentially trying to recruit Moon Knight to their cause. I could easily see this Punisher trying to push Morbius, Venom and Moon Knight to their darker natures. But does he truly feel a connection to them as broken men? Or are they simply pawns in his war against crime?

C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:

---

This Frank would have all your standard Punisher attributes you'd come to expect.
Working alongside his closest confidant, the hacker Microchip, Frank has safehouses throughout New York in each of the boroughs, and a mobile command center that Microchip is primarily patrolling in. He specializes in artillery, housing an impressive armory of ballistics and weaponry.

In an effort to distance himself from the dirty copys of the world who worship his insignia, he has taken on his old Punisher costume, believing it will put a further distance between what he does, and what they do.

S A M P L E P O S T:

---

Punisher War Journal.
October 11th.

Inventory needs work. Armor piercing rounds used to be enough. But now these punks working the Maggia or Kingpin's dime are getting retrofitted with supers tech. Knock-off Starks. Knock-off Iron Men in their little suits. Used to be you could hold a 12-gauge to the chin of one of these guys and he'd sing like a canary. Now they think they've got Scorpion's exoskeleton, can take a shot to the face and still keep ticking. Less than half the time that's true. The rest? Let's say they make Jigsaw look like a magazine's man of the year.

These masks. They spread out their "goodwill" like an infection, trying to teach the world like some kids fairy-tale. The goodness of man. That everyone deep down is trying to do their best to be a good person. Makes me sick. I seen Spider-Man tie shocker up and hang him up from a lamp post with a cute little cardboard sign, after Shocker blasted a busy street full of cars, a sedan crushing grandma's spine like a piece of chalk. Try and tell me that we've got to "do better." Now their super suits and super weapons are getting adopted by these assholes who used to swing around knives and bike chains. Had to put down a guy trying to rob a woman with what looked like one of Moon Knight's crescents.

This is me doing better.

I don't need to be out there every night, looking for trouble. It's everywhere. All I have to do is sniff it out. Micro keeps me in the loop. Thieves? They are small fry. Dregs of society, maybe - but small fry. I need to Punish those beyond them. Those who are creating the systems keeping these people in place. The American Dream. Yet we have these fat cats running the show. And I see these masks out there protecting them. What is this? What are they even doing out there? They tell me I'm crazy. That I need help. Only help I need is gunpowder. Gasoline. I need one of those super suits myself, or to get bit by a radioactive bull and tear through the heart of this sick city with horns the size of the Chrysler building.

Instead I'll just keep waging this war. Seek out the people that are committing these injustices and show them the face of god. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise, I am the Devil here in this city. I don't need a red suit and a thorough reading of the bible to prove it. You think because Red spends his time in a confessional or waking up to hold his rosary's that he knows more about prayer than I do? What do you think the last words are of the scum I wipe off my boot? I've heard more prayers than any god-fearing man has before, and it's my favorite song to hear. I play that shit on repeat. Deliver us this, forgive us that. They see me coming, it's death. It's their just desserts. I reap what they've sown.

Tonight I hit the docks in Red Hook. I got good intel that a deal is going down, some local gang been selling a new inhalant to school kids in some sort of primitive snorkeling mask. Always coming up with some stupid new way to get high. The information I got is good - all it took was subtracting several digits from some sticky fingered p.o.s to find out more. I've laced up the old suit - the white gloves, the white utility belt - I'm faster, lighter than I would covered in the body armor. It feels liberating, freeing. Like I'm ten years younger.

Tonight Punishment is handed out in a flash of gunfire. The thunder in my hands quakes more than Thor's little hammer. Let this white death be enough to save even one person from a future filled with addiction. I've seen it poison a whole bloodline. Now I cut that cancer out. No quips, no photo in the Daily Bugle. What I'll leave won't be publishable in good conscience.

MARVELS: Streets of New York

"I'll say this once, we're not the same. You took an oath to uphold the law. You help people. I gave that up a long time ago. You don't do what I do. Nobody does. You boys need a role model? His name's Captain America, and he'd be happy to have you.... If I find out you are trying to do what I do, I'll come for you next."

T H E P U N I S H E R

---

^{_{Frank Castle ♦ Judge, Jury, Executioner ♦ The Bronx ♦ Unaffiliated}}

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:

---

^{"Some people would tell you that I'm crazy. They would be wrong. It's not crazy when the state of the world makes you want to kill everyone responsible. It's crazy when it doesn't."}

This version of Frank Castle will have a very back to basic origin. His family - a wife, a little boy, and a little girl - all mowed down in front of him while out at Central Park. Frank however would have had NO connection to the killers. No hidden "he was the target secretly" or anything like that. This will keep Frank's horrific and cold worldview in sync: the world is not fair. Criminals in the world must die. The violent men of the world must be fed their own violence back to them threefold.

Undoubtedly violent, potentially sociopathic, chillingly brutal - all descriptions not far off the mark from ol' Frank Castle. A hard as nails man at war with the world, Frank has been active as The Punisher for some time, long enough that the giant white skull that adorns his chest means something to the criminal scum that walk the city, and the old timers who employ the newest wise-guys. Frank Castle has a complicated relationship with the heroes at large in this universe. His extreme methods put him at odds with the various superheroes who cross his path who sometimes find themselves aligned with Frank temporarily, their team unity often cut short due to The Punisher's willingness to kill. It isn't uncommon for someone like Spider-Man to find themselves fighting alongside The Punisher only to attempt to arrest him at an opportune time. Frank however is battle-hardened, paranoid, and quick to make a violent exit.

C H A R A C T E R M O T I V A T I O N S & G O A L S:

---

I want to bring Punisher into the mix in order to bring a bit more chaos and risk to missions and engagement with the other characters. Having a sort of wild card of perpetual violence and death can make for good dramatic material, and can cause strife among the players. I would not however play an unbeatable unflappable Frank. I am very comfortable with having my character be wrong, beaten, or else look like the foolish one when it comes to interactions with others. With the additional mafia taking a larger role plot-wise, I believe having the Punisher involved would be inevitable in having heroes cross paths.

I'd like this version of The Punisher to be back in his old school black and white spandex: bring that sort of 90's vibe with his look back and make it feel more comic-booky. My favorite Punisher stories are always when he is crossing paths with masked heroes, as the "This is COOL Punisher where he murders everyone and he wears a bullet proof vest only and hates everything and also superheroes are dumb" style of comics are actually my least favorite Punisher stories (sorry Garth Ennis's Punisher MAX run)

I do have this idea of Frank potentially trying to put together his "version" of a superhero team, but what is, in essence, actually more of a Marvel Universe Death Squad. I think it would be fun to have a relationship with Eddie Brock as the lethal protector, potentially trying to recruit Moon Knight to their cause. I could easily see this Punisher trying to push Morbius, Venom and Moon Knight to their darker natures. But does he truly feel a connection to them as broken men? Or are they simply pawns in his war against crime?

C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:

---

This Frank would have all your standard Punisher attributes you'd come to expect.
Working alongside his closest confidant, the hacker Microchip, Frank has safehouses throughout New York in each of the boroughs, and a mobile command center that Microchip is primarily patrolling in. He specializes in artillery, housing an impressive armory of ballistics and weaponry.

In an effort to distance himself from the dirty copys of the world who worship his insignia, he has taken on his old Punisher costume, believing it will put a further distance between what he does, and what they do.

S A M P L E P O S T:

---

Punisher War Journal.
October 11th.

Inventory needs work. Armor piercing rounds used to be enough. But now these punks working the Maggia or Kingpin's dime are getting retrofitted with supers tech. Knock-off Starks. Knock-off Iron Men in their little suits. Used to be you could hold a 12-gauge to the chin of one of these guys and he'd sing like a canary. Now they think they've got Scorpion's exoskeleton, can take a shot to the face and still keep ticking. Less than half the time that's true. The rest? Let's say they make Jigsaw look like a magazine's man of the year.

These masks. They spread out their "goodwill" like an infection, trying to teach the world like some kids fairy-tale. The goodness of man. That everyone deep down is trying to do their best to be a good person. Makes me sick. I seen Spider-Man tie shocker up and hang him up from a lamp post with a cute little cardboard sign, after Shocker blasted a busy street full of cars, a sedan crushing grandma's spine like a piece of chalk. Try and tell me that we've got to "do better." Now their super suits and super weapons are getting adopted by these assholes who used to swing around knives and bike chains. Had to put down a guy trying to rob a woman with what looked like one of Moon Knight's crescents.

This is me doing better.

I don't need to be out there every night, looking for trouble. It's everywhere. All I have to do is sniff it out. Micro keeps me in the loop. Thieves? They are small fry. Dregs of society, maybe - but small fry. I need to Punish those beyond them. Those who are creating the systems keeping these people in place. The American Dream. Yet we have these fat cats running the show. And I see these masks out there protecting them. What is this? What are they even doing out there? They tell me I'm crazy. That I need help. Only help I need is gunpowder. Gasoline. I need one of those super suits myself, or to get bit by a radioactive bull and tear through the heart of this sick city with horns the size of the Chrysler building.

Instead I'll just keep waging this war. Seek out the people that are committing these injustices and show them the face of god. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise, I am the Devil here in this city. I don't need a red suit and a thorough reading of the bible to prove it. You think because Red spends his time in a confessional or waking up to hold his rosary's that he knows more about prayer than I do? What do you think the last words are of the scum I wipe off my boot? I've heard more prayers than any god-fearing man has before, and it's my favorite song to hear. I play that shit on repeat. Deliver us this, forgive us that. They see me coming, it's death. It's their just desserts. I reap what they've sown.

Tonight I hit the docks in Red Hook. I got good intel that a deal is going down, some local gang been selling a new inhalant to school kids in some sort of primitive snorkeling mask. Always coming up with some stupid new way to get high. The information I got is good - all it took was subtracting several digits from some sticky fingered p.o.s to find out more. I've laced up the old suit - the white gloves, the white utility belt - I'm faster, lighter than I would covered in the body armor. It feels liberating, freeing. Like I'm ten years younger.

Tonight Punishment is handed out in a flash of gunfire. The thunder in my hands quakes more than Thor's little hammer. Let this white death be enough to save even one person from a future filled with addiction. I've seen it poison a whole bloodline. Now I cut that cancer out. No quips, no photo in the Daily Bugle. What I'll leave won't be publishable in good conscience.

MARVELS: Streets of New York

I’m torn between DD and The Punisher. While I feel like Daredevil is a richer canvas, Punisher could be a real fun play, and lead to some dramatic tension. But I’d also be a bit isolated as Frank, which could be a downer. I’ll make a call and throw an application in the mix today

MARVELS: Streets of New York

Wow I love all four of those newly released characters.

I feel confident in my familiarity with playing as DD, Punisher or plot twist: Kaine Parker’s Scarlet Spider.

Do any GM’s have thoughts on which would be most beneficial to have on hand for story purposes?

MARVELS: Streets of New York

Hello folks!

Is this game still accepting players or is there a waiting list?

With thanks,
-C

Young Justice

&

The Incorrigible Iceburn!

M T . J U S T I C E

---

^{October 4thth, 2021 | 11:22 AM | Happy Harbor, Rhode Island}

Quiver had been back only long enough to rest in his quarters for thirty minutes. Upon his arrival he hung up sling bag on a hook on his door and nearly collapsed against it. The journey home hadn’t been as restful as he had hoped, but it was the time he spent with Hal that was the most taxing. Green Lantern was a little arrogant, a little smug, but incredibly revered by the rest of the Corps. It was strange to see so up close. Even when they were on the planet Scylla, surrounded by all kinds of weird sights.

But the work that the Lantern’s did, all powered entirely by their emotions - that was the kind of thing that really exhausted Quiver. Before he left earth, Quiver asked Green Arrow if he had ever used a Power Ring himself. Ollie looked serious and said it was the single most exhausting thing he’d ever experienced. GA had undersold it.

After resting his eyes, Quiver opened his suitcase and removed a small drawstring bag. He felt the weight of it in his hand and headed back out the door. He wouldn’t have time to decompress like he wanted, he had to go see Iceburn.

He knocked outside her door, wondering if she was in. He pressed his ear against the door to see if he could hear anything from inside.

Wump.

A little thump would smack right up against Will’s ear from the other side of the door.

Wump. It happened again.

Wump.

”Um. Iceburn? It’s Qui-it’s Will. Everything okay in there?”

He reached to see if the door was locked and was surprised when the handle turned easily - the door swinging open to see…

”Yeah-” Pei said, and the rubber ball she was throwing against the door smacked into Will.

”Oops, shit!” She said with a little laugh. She was laying upside down on her bed against the far wall, her pink hair dangling beneath her. The ball she had been throwing now rolled around at Will’s feet. ”My bad! I was trying to- forget it- sorry! ”

Quiver closed his eyes and rubbed at his forehead, Pei’s rubber ball had hit him dead on right above the eyes.. With a glance Pei would be able to see the blooming red mark it left.

”No hey thats fine I uh, barely felt…it?”Quiver was still half wincing, and embarrassed. Not exactly the picture of cool and collected. Quiver hadn’t had much one on one time with many of his teammates, and none at all really since the last failed mission that ended in a kidnapping and near blowout. He wanted to try and make a good impression. Unfortunately his main two guides for speaking to women were Oliver Queen and Hal Jordan. And, in a nutshell, he was clueless.

”So…do you throw things…often?”

Her hands were over her mouth. She suppressed some more apologetic laughter.

”I was trying to- I was trying to open the door with the ball. Like hit the handle and have it come back to me, or something.” She said, meeting him halfway since that was pretty embarrassing to admit, too. ”Like Batman or some shit, I dunno.”

Quiver put a hand to his chin in thought

“Batman does open a lot of doors….” He trailed off in thought, silent for a second too long…

“But it did kind of work. Just not in the way you expected.”

She giggles. ”Yeah I guess so!” She rolls backwards off the couch and bounds towards him. A chunk of ice appears in her hand and she plops it against his forehead.

”Maybe hold this there? The side facing me isn’t as cold, so, should be easier on your hand. Call that little number the Pack O’ Peas technique.” She said, placing her hand on her hips and nodding.

Quiver smiled - pack of peas, that was really funny. He felt the soothing relief almost immediately at its icy touch. He held it to his forehead with the one hand as he spoke.

”Do you have a minute? I have something for you. Would it be okay if we talked inside?”

”I suppose I could take a minute off from my ninja training. Maybe even two.” Pei said, stepping out of the way into her dorm room. She had elected for a pastel color palette, and on every wall were posters for superheroes. There was a corkboard with pinned selfies of Pei and various superheroes, and by various, there was three. Though there was plenty of room for more, she had only managed to take selfies with Hal Jordan, The Flash, and recently Jessica Cruz.

”Wait, have something?” She perked up.

Quiver nodded and took in Iceburn’s room decorations, nearly completely opposite from Quiver’s own near room. His could mostly be described as barren. Near, organized, but empty. Save for whatever stack of books he was making it through that week. He felt the colors and vibrancy of the room really matched Iceburn’s own energy. Her own “vibe” as Zatara has said previously.

“Yeah I do. Not from me though. I didn’t..it’s not- Sorry, how long have you been like a superhero fan? Did you grow up wanting to be one? I guess the rest of us kind of fell into this line of work. Or in Zatara’s case it’s in the family. Or if you’re like me you…” Will trailed off.

He doesn’t often like to think about his “superhero origin.” Back when he was essentially a nameless Talon for the Court of Owls. Rescued from a life of murder by the Bat-Family. For him, it was this life, this world of heroes, or end up as less than nothing. A hooded killer. With no personhood. Something he was still working on.

With a little hop, she sat down on the edge of her bed. Pei looked up at the ceiling and touched her chin. ”Oh, I don’t know. Since I was like seven, eight? Superman saved me and the orphanage as a kid and…shit, I knew what I wanted to be.” She said with a nostalgic smile, her eyes unfocusing as she recalled the memory.

”Yeah, I feel really lucky to be here.” She nodded. ”One day, I’m going to be a full time member of the Justice League!”

Quiver realized that he and Pei had similar upbringings, at least in the sense of being orphans. He wondered what kind of situation Iceburn’s childhood was like in an orphanage. However it was, she grew up to be a really put together person. Enthusiastic. And had even been up close to Superman. Quiver had never met Superman before, and wondered what that would have been like.

“The League, yeah? I wonder what our little team of ne’er do wells will be like once we “graduate” from this place. A few of us already have what it takes, according to Hal. Speaking of-“

Quiver tossed Iceburn a drawstring bag. It was almost a dark purple velvety color, smooth and soft to the touch. The item inside however had a strange heft to it. Reaching inside, Pei would find a stone no larger than a baseball, or the rubber ball she had been throwing against her door. But it was sheen and prismatic, with etched stone lines alongside it. It looked almost like a small glacier. The color however was this effervescent blue.

“Green Lantern said it was important that you hang on to this. He said to emphasize it was “from space” and to say that with gravitas.”

She took the rock in her hands and turned it over, her eyes sparkling. ”What, really! Green Lantern?! Space rock!” She held it up to the light with a gasp. ”Holy shit!” She hopped up and gave Will a big hug. ”Thank you!” She pulled away and kept feverishly looking it over.

”I wonder if it’s Martian? He said it was important? Are you sure?” She asked.

Quiver only half heard Pei asking about the stone. He was still reeling from being embraced by her. When Pei had effortlessly put her arms around him in excitement as if it was the most natural thing in the world. He had only managed to get one arm around her, and could feel the cool touch of her skin with his fingertips. He blushed and hoped Pei wasn’t noticing. But it could be one of the first times he was embraced by one of his teammates. He was grateful for her. Quiver thought back on their time together, and remembered that Iceburn had on more than one occasion saw things from Quiver’s perspective that others had overlooked.

She was examining the rock from all angles, and Quiver examined her at the same time. The pink hair, the sinewy muscles indicative of her physical prowess. Her excitement about being a superhero - it was like she was made for this world even if she hadn’t had cryokinesis on top of everything.

”Well, he had said that it was more important than you’d guess, and he told me to tell you: you have to keep it safe. When I was with GL and the rest of the corps, we experienced some…surprising things. Scary things. Let’s just say I’m glad to be back on solid footing here with you guys. When Hal gave me that, he told me not to tell anyone else, not even Red Tornado or Canary. He must have a good reason.”

”Oh I promise, I promise to keep it safe no matter…” She looked up at Will, her expression souring.

” What do you mean ‘solid footing’? He actually took you to space?” She asked.

”He never took me to space!” She exclaimed.

”Well it wasn’t like….deep space.” Quiver swallowed and lifted his hands as if in penance, now feeling incredibly guilty for being taken to space before Pei. He cursed Hal under his breath, always causing some sort of trouble, on purpose or otherwise.

“We’re talking like basically earth but with you know, with…aliens from…not earth.”

”You met aliens?!” Pei asked. ”On like— their homeworld?”

Quiver’s eyes widened, clearly making it worse.

”Well yes but like, they weren’t even that weird looking either they had only a few extra limbs and they weren’t even that strange a shade of purple!”

”Ugh!” Pei fell onto her bed, burying her face into her pillow.

”Will!” She protested, voice muffled. ”You’re killin’ me.” She lifted her face and held up the rock again.

”...I’ll still protect the space rock. It’s still fuckin’...cool.” She chuckled, and then flopped her face back down, letting her hand dangle. ”I’ll get a cool box for it.”

Quiver looked at his teammate sprawled acoss her bed, seemingly lost in thought regarding Hal’s gift. He felt he should leave, but something kept him in his friend’s room for longer. There was something he wanted to tell her.

“Back on the flight home from the Everglades, when Mirage got into it with you about Metamorph. I don’t think any of what you said was out of line. And I think it’s obvious that you, more than a lot of the other people here, know what it means to be a hero. Looking at your walls, it’s like you’ve been more prepared for this than a lot of the rest of us. As pissed as I…SOMETIMES get...I think Mirage was wrong to say you don’t think before you speak. Even if she was just angry and confused when she said it.”

Pei’s hand clenched thoughtfully around the rock. Setting it on her nightstand, she sat up in her bed. ”Um, thanks, Will.” She said with a little smile.

Then she shrugged. ”She apologized. And we were all a bit out of sorts. I just wish all of us could get along better, but this whole Metamorph business has really complicated things. And I didn’t even get attacked like you did.” Pei said.

Quiver nodded, brows furrowing.

”Yeah well…it is what it is. I’m not exactly over it but, if it’s really as complicated as Batman and the others are saying, that he’s got multiple people in his head vying for control or making him act violently like that…then my issue is only with one of him. And that’s the one I’ll scratch back.” He smiled at Pei.

”So to speak.”

Pei let out a little laugh, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. ”Well, hey. Go easy on him, champ.”

”Do you think you’ll be able to work with him, after everything?” She asks. ”Like, if he gets everything sorted and that kind of thing won’t happen anymore. Can you trust him?”

Quiver thought about it. On one hand, this whole second go at being on the team was to help establish connections with people, earn trust, give it freely, mature, and be a well-rounded person. Letting this go about Metamorph and moving on would be the logical step towards those things. But it was a harder step to get across than he’d anticipate, even when a part of him knew that forgiving him was the healthier option. But was it Metamorph he was mad at? Was it the team? Hard to say. That might be something he’d have to rely on Black Canary for.

”I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t be wary of him. Or whatever version of him that would attack us. At the same time, if it wasn’t really him, and he didn’t know what was inside his head? Then it’s not really his fault. But if there is something that Nightwing has taught me from Batman, it’s the importance of being prepared in case one of your friends goes rogue. A tower of babel in place of one of us deciding to go the way of the bad guy. Everyone else on this team is having a better time at making friends with each other. Mirage wouldn’t ever hurt Metamorph, even at her own peril. Nymph, Rain, Talos…I bet the same. Sometimes I wonder if it’s more important to be the kind of person to make a hard choice. I’ve spent a lot of time wanting to be the person with friends and big feelings, choosing things based on heart. I wonder if instead I’ve overlooked the benefits of being more like…how I was. Like Talon would have been better equipped for this sort of thing.”

He looked over at Pei, wondering if she understood what he was getting at, how he was feeling.

Pei’s eyebrows were furrowed, and her mouth formed a few syllables, before smiling nervously and trying again .”Wh- um.”

”Listen, Will, uh.- y’know.” She stammered.

”You should be yourself. That’s a nugget of wisdom. That never goes out of style.” She managed. ”You don’t have to- ah, shit. I don’t really know who Talon is.”

She exhaled and put out her hands to the center of the room, like she was trying to signal an invisible truck to come to a stop. ”Listen. It’s not a big deal, okay. It’s no biggie. You’re overthinking it. If a teammate loses control of their powers, you try to reign them in. You don’t have to be any kind of way to do that.” Pei managed.

Quiver nodded, thinking back a bit over something another teammate had said to him earlier. Advice that wasn’t so dissimilar. But it was sparking another memory of his and felt the thread pulling at the back of his mind. Something to do with one of Metamorph’s personalities. Something they were all overlooking. But he couldn’t quite chase the thought down. It was already fading.

“You’re right. Ignore me. Black Canary told me lately I’ve been thinking out-loud. I’ll get out of your hair. I’ll see you around.” He turned and made his way out of Iceburn’s room. Pei hurried after him, surprised.

”You can think aloud! Honest! That’s what friends are for, Will!” She stressed upon him, leaning out her door with a worried look on her face. ”My advice wasn’t that bad, was it?”

Quiver laughed, in spite of himself.

“It was just what I needed to hear, I think. I don’t know if you noticed this but…” Quiver leaned in conspiratorially and shifted his eyes left to right. When he spoke next, he said so in all seriousness.

“I can be a pretty dour and serious guy.” He nodded, as if they were now both in on a well kept secret. Pei giggled, lowering her head into her shoulders to ensure no one else heard.

Quiver knew that this conversation he had with Pei was their first real interaction that was more based on friendliness than it was that they were teammates. Had he had many of these conversations with the others? Can he recall a time he just sat and talked with Talos in a way that wasn’t which bad guy to take out first? He thought about what Green Arrow would say to someone like that. He’d probably call him a “real wank.” Whatever that meant.

“I like being friends with you.”

”Me too! I mean, I like being friends with you, too. Not I like being friends with me, too. Because that wouldn’t make any sense. Thanks again for the super special space rock!” She waved, assuming that Will was still on his way out.

With no destination in mind, Quiver thought he’d head to the common area to grab something to drink before he finished unpacking from his mentorship with GL. He passed Stormcaller’s room but the door was closed, and otherwise there was no sign of anyone else. He leaned against the counter and sipped at a bottle of water. He felt his ribs - it had been some time since they had fully healed and caused him any issue. Enough so that he barely thought about it. Quiver was at peace momentarily. Unbeknownst to him however, the young man who had caused that injury was only a few hundred yards away, just outside the base.