Hound55

CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

Fuggit...

*Starts 5 post long arc as "epilogue"*

CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

We got about thirteen hours until the deadline, so let's do a headcount on who all still has posts left.

@Byrd Man

I'm spent.

*Basks in afterglow*

CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

A figure staggers around in the snow. Stumbles. Grumbles. Mumbles. And picks himself up as well as the small axe and firewood he has been collecting.

Ol’ Charlie doesn’t say much to most folks, unless he travels into town to see them himself first. He calls to another Charlie, and a thin greyhound with mixed coloured eyes bounces through the snow wearing a makeshift jumper made from the larger Charlie’s own clothes.

Charlie found the dog taking out a pack of wolves with no idea how it found its way this far north. The fast greyhound had run, stretching out the pack and isolating front runners, which he then mercilessly attacked, before running again to put distance between them. Charlie remembered when he first saw the dog. It’s right eye cloudy as the moon with a cataract, and at night time its eyes would glow - one a piercing blue and the other green.

Maybe it was a lack of creativity, or maybe it was that Ol’ Charlie saw so much of the man he had become in the dog, that he gave him the same name (or maybe it was even that his “own name” wasn’t really his own in the first place and a combination of these factors).

The two Charlie’s got to the house on opposite sides of the energy spectrum. The man ambled in and carefully removed his heavy coat, hanging it on a hook by the door, whilst the dog bounced through, shook off the cold, wet snow, stretched as if further exercise was required and shook its ears.

“Warm up, Charlie.”

On command the dog lay down on the heavy bear skin by the fireplace.

“Attaboy Charlie. I’m just going to run into town.”

He needn’t have said anything. The dog was already flopped on one side on the bearskin and planning to sleep. Head tilted in semi-interest as Ol’ Charlie turned the door handle.

Charlie jumped in his pickup and headed to town. A full moon was coming and he wanted to make sure he was all stocked up for the coming days with food for his friend of the same name.

He stopped by the bar and had two brews, shooting the shit and finding out what was new with the bartender. Her name was Topaz and she was running from something down south as well. He didn’t know what, but only one name and living out here was the giveaway. She knew he was running from something as well for the same reason. She just didn’t know what. They shared a kinship, and a couple of nights a month, a bed. But how much of that came down to convenience and lack of alternatives in a “city” of fifteen, neither of them knew nor cared.

Charlie picked up more dog food and drove his pickup back home, carefully through the snow. He fed his namesake and started to prepare his own kennel. He dragged blankets and bedding into the cell, he went to the toilet and then patted his dog one more time.

He pulled the heavy door with the timelock closed behind him and sat on his bedding and waited for the transformation to come.

He breathed calmly as he felt it wash over him. He grew on his haunches. Sinew and bone twisted. With the safety of the cell, the werewolf formerly known as Jack Russell had been able to take much of the trauma out of the curse and its changes. Without fighting it, much of the pain involved dissipated.

Gone was the man, replaced by the wolf. As he alway would he tried his luck against the walls and hurt his claws in the process on the cell’s pure silver interior. He walked around the cell inspecting every wall, before howling at the unfairness of it all.

The soundproofing of the cell - whilst very good - was not total, and a muffled howl could be heard around the cabin. Having finished his food Charlie would search for the sound, and sensing an unseen friend would jump onto the timelocked door with his front paws and return the howl himself.

Two Charlies baying for one another across time and a foot and a half of steel and silver. Eventually the pair would both curl up and sleep on opposite sides of the thick door, as the timelock ticked down to their impending reunion.

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Flint sat in the breakroom. His partner Gwynn was in the can. The television in the breakroom had cut from some 80s sitcom to a press conference at City Hall.

Flint turned the volume up, to the chagrin of some of the other officers…

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“Look, whatever you do... Don’t announce your intent to run.” Benson said, as he straightened the Deputy Mayor’s tie.

“Mmm.” Carson Knowles grunted, side-tracked as he went through his own speech.

“I’m serious! You don’t want to give these people enough runway to get off a good counter-campaign and make you unelectable.”

“Benson,” Knowles began, an air of entitled superiority thick in his voice, “I’m an army hero, with six years experience as Deputy Mayor and another three years of experience as Chicago’s District Attorney. I have an unblemished military career with honours, the experience to hold office and the name to go with it from when my father held the role. My resume speaks for itself.”

“Just… Listen to me and don’t make our job any harder. OK?”

“Fine.”

The podium was currently feeling the weight of the Police Superintendent as he fielded questions regarding the recent scourge of animal attacks, until the media put forward a direct question about the Knight in White who had been using moon shaped darts and equipment.

Knowles took this as his cue and stepped to the podium as the representative from the Mayor’s office.

“I’m glad to field this one for you… Chicago prides itself on progressive policy. And looking at the current trends for crime, the current Administration believes that we the people deserve a police force that will take all the help they can get. Whether that be amongst their own ranks, or from a private citizen determined to make this city, THIS WORLD, a better place.”

He held expertly for a public round of applause.

“And that’s why, even though this Moon Knight is yet to release a public statement, this administration would like to announce that they stand with him on this great endeavour for a better Chicago for tomorrow! We see the heroes who stood, no STAND in front of villains like that Silver Surfer and his tyrannical master, and say WE WILL NOT STAND FOR THIS ANYMORE!”

More applause.

“We will--”

“So does that mean you’ll be throwing your own hat in the ring at this next Mayoral election?” A man with a press lanyard yelled from the front.

Knowles snapped briefly and glared at the interruption for a half second before re-composing himself.

“We’re not here to talk about hypotheticals of who may or may not be running for office in the upcoming election.”

“Wow. That’s a solid side-step and a non-answer.” He replied.

“It’s an expert deflection from a highly competent Deputy Mayor who’s looking to get thing back on the topic at hand, which is that this administration is getting behind our own local…”

“And when you say this Administration… are you referring to one that you will be leading? How else could you claim to speak for them? Or will the Mayor also be saying this?” The man in the press lanyard got even more stubborn with his questioning.

A smirk crossed Carson Knowles face. He’d been expertly backed into a corner. He grabbed the sides of the podium and tapped it, considering his next move.

“Yes, I suppose you are right on that. After many years of service to both this city and this great Nation, I will be running for Mayor this spring. And in that Administration, we plan to continue our ongoing support of this great HERO. The Moon Knight of Chicago!”

More cheering, and Carson Knowles took the opportunity to wave for photos and interject himself throughout. Away from cameras and prying eyes, Carson Knowles would slip the man in the press lanyard a paper envelope with several thousand dollars inside.

Flint turned off the tv to even more complaints than when he turned the volume up.

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The Windy City. Our city. No better place for a man with a glider cape.

I’ve been staking out gang behaviour in the Upper West Side. A bunch of Irish mob thugs calling themselves the Whyos have been looking to stake a claim.

They’ve been running guns through and flouting local laws. If I can take them down, I’ll not only make the streets safer for the average Chicagoan but I’ll make my own goals that much easier as I take a good sized consortment off the street.

A beautiful woman waiting for me at home, my best friend watching on from above and I feel complete - as stable as I have for a long time.

Life is good. Less so for the Whyos.

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CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

There we go... Last post of the arc. Epilogue to come tonight.

CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

Grant woke around 10. He checked on their captive guest, delivered him breakfast in the Moon Knight suit and took his preferences for his Keno City accommodation, and took both his breakfast tray and the tray from the previous night back upstairs.

When the elevator finally got there, he pulled the mask off and was greeted by Jean Paul and Marlene, who had since woken up themselves. Samuels was also up and about.

“So what exactly is the plan here?” DuChamp asked.

“See for yourselves.” Spector grunted, handing over the paperwork.

“Keno Cit-- you’re building him a house?”

“It’ll keep him from killing anyone and will allow him to have a life of his own. Besides, what do we care, we’ve all got free accommodation here. Who are we to be bothered by any of this?”

Jean Paul raised an eyebrow at this response. Marlene hit him when Spector wasn’t looking.

“That’s not the big issue though. It’s over 3,000 miles away and we’re transporting a dead man with no papers.”

“Maybe we should just buy a really big dog carrier…” Marlene quipped.

“I’ll prep the chopper…”

“It’s too high profile. I’ve got jamming equipment that covers the Mooncopter’s tracks in and out of the hangar for several miles. But if we fly him all the way out to where we’re keeping him…”

“We’ll be leading whoever abducted him directly where we’d be moving him… OK. That would be less than ideal.” DuChamp accepted.

“We’ve-- we need to drive him out there. We need to smuggle him out and get him passable papers. Talk our way through the border and…”

Samuels nodded at him.

“I don’t think I can talk my way through border… even Canada’s.”

Samuels directed him to the wall at the end of the hallway. “Sir. You know what you need.”

Grant looked nervous. The unknown.

“There’s no need to be scared, sir. I make a habit of forcing the first two on you. To become an entire other person, like Spector, or to be have one that your existing personality doesn’t much care for and conflicts with… that’s one thing. But this final one. That’s what completes you. He’s what brings the other two together. Allows you to find common ground with yourself. He’s the straw that stirs the drink. This needs to be your decision.”

Samuels shoved something into his hands.

Grant looked down and saw a peak cap and a fake moustache.

“What if--”

“What, sir?”

“What if I do this - I make myself whole - and I still don’t like what I see?”

“Sir, we work every day until we do. If I’m not mistaken, I think that’s what this Moon Knight business has been all about.”

Grant looked up from the hat and moustache and nodded. He looked down the hallway at the false wall at the end of the hallway. The hidden portal to a world belonging to neither Grant, nor Spector and then looked at the closer “side wall” of the hall. A large mirror hung above an antique table and he looked at himself. A man who saw himself as a wealthy philanthropist, wearing a vigilante’s costume, whilst a soldier’s mentality squirmed and writhed within him. On top of the table sat an old antique set of Russian nesting dolls, all stacked within each other with the top halves resting all around.

In a house full of bought antiques, this one actually belonged to his mother. Grant smirked, imagining he must know how the dolls felt for that very moment.

“You know the words, sir. And the name of the man you are looking for is Jake Lockley.”

“Thank you, Samuels.”

“You’re more than welcome, sir.”

Steven Grant walked to the end of the hallway and pulled open the door. The world gave way to the small, mess of a home. Grant removed his Moon Knight suit and got dressed in this Lockley’s clothes. He donned the hat and false moustache, before looking for one last thing.

In a bowl on the kitchen counter, he grabbed a set of keys.

Grant got himself comfortable, looked at the edge of the kitchen countertop and moved further away, to be sure he wouldn’t hit his head. Held his keys to his side and closed his eyes as if he was performing dark magic and let the words come.

“Jake Lockley. Maa Kheru.”

His spine straightened. Eyes flickered. And he fell to the floor.

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In a space between places the man in white fell. He landed with a solid bump, despite the desert sands. He was in a perfectly white suit, tailored immaculately as if by the gods themselves. With an all white face as well, marked with a crescent on his forehead that denoted his patron, he was helped up from the sand by two men, a man in desert camouflaged military fatigues and a man in a pristine black three-piece suit. The man in white dusted himself off and adjusted his suit. The other man in the black suit held his hand out in an “OK” gesture, with a heavy preening smirk on his face. They began to walk.

The traveller in white walked the cosmic sands with the soldier and the man in the black suit until they came upon another. One with the head of a jackal took his hand.

And just as Khonshu would assist many in finding their path, the jackal-headed Anubis led the Traveller in the white suit, the Marine and the man in the black suit to exactly where they needed to be.

There were a set of scales with no marketplace. A ship which sailed the cosmic winds with an audience of deities. A beast. And the scribe.

Anubis walked to the scales and removed the pure white feather of Ma’at. He asked the Traveller in White for a request so politely that he could never refuse, and with permission granted, tore the Traveller’s head off and rested it on one side of the scales where the feather had once been. The man in the black suit re-adjusted the Traveller in white’s tie, before offering another “OK” gesture once satisfied.

Anubis called and Khonshu brought forth what had been requested.

It was a small doll dressed in street clothes, with a ratty little peak cap and moustache. It wriggled between the grasp of both gods’ touch. It ran on rationale, and the reality principle. It was patient and perceptive. The Marine smiled, at last an ally against the whiny man in the suit. The man in the suit smiled, finally, someone who might allow him to get through to the Marine and his primal desires The headless man in white held him in reassurance.

Anubis held the doll at an arm’s distance. Ammut licked her crocodile lips.

Anubis dropped the doll onto the scales, and then set to work adjusting the scales.

The sides reached balance. Thoth nodded his ibis head to the god of death. He picked the head up off of the scales and threw it back to the Traveller in White. The soldier stepped in front and caught the head comfortably. The man in the black suit, cleared his blank face of cosmic dust and desert sands. He handed it to the man in white who held his forearm in thanks and gave the “OK” sign with his other hand. Anubis threw the doll to Khonshu who approached his avatar. His chosen one.

The Traveller re-attached his own head. To do otherwise would be impolite in the company of gods. Khonshu approached.

The god of the Moon grabbed the Traveller in White by the back of his head, his head snapped back as he screamed silently. His mouth opened from the god’s shockingly strong grip. The god held the figure above the Traveller’s gaping maw, the instant seemed to last for a minute. The fall seemed to last forever.

Jake Lockley felt himself being consumed. He felt himself consume. He once again had form.

The body was whole once more.

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Lockley awoke on the floor of his apartment and for a fraction of a second, before his memories started to come back to him, he had wondered what the Hell he’d been drinking the night before.

He walked through the fake wall to return to the others.

“Marc, are you alright?” Marlene had asked.

He’d turned and looked into the mirror.

“Not just yet, but I will be.”

He left the mansion and got into his yellow cab, going to one of his most familiar haunts - Gina’s Diner, making one stop on the way.

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“Get outta here with that damn teabag, Crawley! It probably has a better memory of the flies that hang around yo’ ass than the last time it saw any tea leaves in it!” Gina yelled, getting frustrated by one of her most loyal regulars incessant requests to stretch a single tea bag into a year-long investment.

“I assure you, the flavour remains infused within, Gina my good lady. Just one more cup of--”

“Throw out the bag, Gina. I’ve got a whole box of teabags here with the name Bertrand Crawley written all over it!”

“Jake, my boy!” Crawley lit up, revitalized at the sight of his friend.

“Lockley! I haven’t seen your bony white ass around here in f’rever! Sit yo’ ass down. Coffee’s comin’ right up! You want pie with that too?”

“Nah. Shelve the pie, Gina. Is Legs Leinhart in?”

“Legs? The Hell you want with Legs?! Don’t you go draggin’ my boys into any of this business with Legs, now!”

As if on cue Ricky and Ray rounded the corner and greeted Lockley with excitement.

“Hey did that job the other day all work out for you Jake? We painted the cameras just like Jeeves asked!”

“And I trust he was able to recover his limousine fully functional and in one piece as well?”

“Painted the cam--? The Hell’d you drag my boys into Lockley?!”

“I assure you I have no idea what you’re talking about. Now Legs, Gina. Is he here?”

“Booth at the back…” She swatted him with a tea towel as he made his way there. “And leave my boys out of this!”

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A yellow cab pulled up to the border crossing station connecting between Washington state. It was further, but Lockley felt it more plausible if he were ferrying Jack Russell - now Charles Prince, courtesy of the identity papers provided by one Michael “Legs” Leinhart - across the border to Vancouver. Once he was in, he rest would be easy, so a lot would ride on the choice of crossing point.

”Hello there!” Said the border official.

“Hi!” Lockley drew his driver’s licence and showed the matching cab registration. “Just ferryin’ this guy across the border to Vancouver.”

“He got papers, yah?”

“Charles Prince” produced his driver’s licence and handed it to the official. Who gave it the briefest of looks, more cars coming in behind them.

“Vancouver, eh? That’s a pretty steep fare.”

“You know how it is, some people have more money than sense…”

“Well, you’re all good to go then…”

And that had been it. For all the panic and rigamarole of crossing international borders, the total experience could be measured in painless seconds, and it mostly came down to choosing a crossing point and driving out of his way.

The rest was just Lockley and the open rode. For over a thousand miles of open road. Jack Russell put his seat back and started to sleep. They’d driven a long way already. The Keno City Hotel awaited. At least for 2 weeks until his new home could be built.

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CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

Being outside of the US, comics for me were all Phantom/Tintin/Asterix until late high school.

Loved Footrot Flats comics strip stuff as well, which probably had a big influence on that Spruce: Batcow run thing I did briefly.

CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

Pure sentai is still too wild for me, but Power Rangers adds enough of an illusion of conventional plot structure to achieve palatability. But man... no one can deny the Japanese's creativity.

Yeah... that's the right word for it. "Creativity."

@Eddie Brock

Or as the Western World calls it... the Sex Offender Register.

CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

"And thus, despite nearly concluding their first successful season on the forum, the boards were split in twain.

Between those who worshipped at the alter of Tommy the green Usurper, and those who saw him as a false idol in jade..."

CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

Was a bit rough finishing that one...

Got a call today telling me that we're going to have to euthanize a dog we've been fostering...

Going to make some calls and see if there's a workaround... but yeah.

CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

“You must be out of your mind, Marc? Why did you bring it here?” Marlene yelled.

Jean Paul, Marlene, Spector and Samuels were downstairs in the subterranean hangar, looking on from another room behind a glass window at the heavily bound werewolf which had been strapped to a table. The werewolf writhed rigorously against it’s bonds.

“Not an ‘it’. A ‘him’. And I brought him here because of what I found on his leg.”

She waited.

“I found a serial number. And all of the fur has been chewed and worn off. He had some kind of ankle device on.”

“And?”

“And?!? It means he’s been held prisoner. He’s an innocent. Just like those we’re trying to protect.”

“Except he runs around killing people when he’s not a prisoner. Did it occur to you that maybe he was a prisoner for a reason?”

“We’ll see when he changes back. There’s no need to punish the man for the wolf.”

“Well what’s your solution, Marc? What? Are we going to keep him here?” Jean Paul replied.

“No. Steven is working on something that should work for all parties…”

“Even the ones who lost family members to this thing?”

“…"

"…Perhaps not, but it should prevent anyone else from losing a family member to it.”

The others walked back to the elevator, and left Spector watching over the bound wolf. He didn’t blame them. It was so late that soon the day would dawn. Marc just wanted to wait for the second transformation. He owed this man that much at least. As well as to re-set his leg, assuming that would transform broken as well.

Spector chose to stand, not trusting himself to sit whilst he waited. But he didn’t have to wait long. Soon there was howling, and cracking. Sinew twisted, bone scraped. Howling turned to screaming. The wolf wasn’t tied up in a way consistent with human anatomy. Spector quickly sliced through the bonds using a crescent dart and gave the man space.

He whimpered and clutched at his foot, sitting on the table. It hurt him, but it didn't seem to be as severe as the initial break. Perhaps the transformation had something to do with it.

“The Hell did you do to me?”

“I broke your leg. You were being… difficult.”

“Yeah well… All things considered I guess I’m kind of lucky you didn’t kill me. Where is this place?”

“Not for you to know.”

Jack Russell inspected himself. He had scar tissue all over.

“So are you going to kill me, or are you locking me up here somewhere.”

Spector sized the man up.

“You’re very hung up on the idea of me killing you. Truth be told, I’m thinking of a third option.”

He walked around the bench and threw him a stack of paper.

Jack Russell grabbed the paper and looked at the first page. It was a blown up map of a place called “Keno City”.

“City? This isn’t going to--”

“Ignore the name. It’s got a population of 15. It’s in the Yukon.”

He threw the stack back.

“It’s still fifteen.”

“It’s also just the first page…” the Moon Knight spoke, throwing the paper back.

Jack Russell begrudgingly picked the paper back up and turned beyond the first page. It was some kind of a box.

“What is this?”

Steven Grant began his sales pitch. “Keno City is small, but still has a general store. It’s a place where the locals know one another but also give their space.”

If he wasn’t wearing his mask, Russell could have seen Grant’s eyes sparkle with the excitement from the package he was setting up.

“The second page is an 8 by 6 concrete and steel reinforced cell, with silver interior. We can get you… dog bedding or whatever you want for the inside to make your “other” more comfortable. You can hunt locally and stock the cell to keep the wolf fed on fresh meat. Oh… what I really like is the door. Once again, silver interior with a foot and a half thick door comprised of titanium and steel alloy - with the locking mechanism an electronically preset timelock with selectable options. Say… set to the lunar calendar for the next 100 or so years from dusk to dawn.”

Jack Russell turned the pages with an expression of curiosity.

"The cell exists on your own property. A log cabin with decent amenities, picked from the selection on the fifth through to twelfth page - I particularly liked the full log cedar and stone I circled on 6 - there’s a service on page 14 that delivers care packages, food, groceries, etc to remote areas if you don’t feel up to dealing with the general sto--”

“Whoa, whoa… slow down there. How am I supposed to pay for all of this?”

The cadence of the Moon Knight’s voice suddenly shifted. “I’ve been told… by our mutual benefactor, that with the amount he’s invested in me to keep me equipped… well, the lives it saves by having you agree to relocate to a place where you can better deal with your-- condition.” Moon Knight hung, looking for the right words. “He says it’s a splash in the ocean compared with what he provides for me.” He seemed almost bitter at the suggestion.

Jack Russell kept flipping through the selected documentation.

“So… this is just waiting for me out there, huh?”

“Well, no. You’ve got to pick your cabin design first. Then we airlift the cell to the location… The cabin should be ready within two weeks. Well before you require it. Worst case scenario we may have to put you up in a local hotel until construction is completed.”

The Moon Knight swept across the floor and headed for the elevator.

“Stay here. I’ll be back in a few minutes to bring you down food.”

“Yeah.” Said Jack, his mind preoccupied with looking at the different possibilities for his own home. “Oh… thanks!” As Russell realised what he had said.

The Moon Knight turned. “What are you thanking me for?” He grunted. “I’m not doing this. I’m just the guy who broke your leg.”

“Yeah, well. If you didn’t break my leg and bring me here, I guess this never would have happened. This… This could actually let me start to have some kind of a life.”

The Moon Knight was non-responsive. He just made his way to the elevator and clanged the door closed.

“The hard part is going to be figuring out how to get you there…” He muttered to himself, his voice obscured by the cacophony of the old elevator.

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