Master Bruce

Ultimate One Universe: Emergence

Deathstroke

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L

DEATHSTROKE

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^{"Do not mess with my family"}

^{_{SLADE JOSEPH WILSON ♦ MERCENARY/BOUNTY HUNTER ♦ UNITED STATES OF AMERICA}}

O R I G I N S:

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Slade Wilson had a rough life growing up, abused by his father and abandoned by his mother. Slade, rather than endure this abuse any longer and having worked up the courage, he would run away from home and never look back. He would eventually end up in the care of an old couple who took him in after they discovered him near their home. There, rather than abuse him, they would treat him like their own child and would raise him well, and Slade vowed never to like his father. When he came of age, Slade decided to join the military.

Slade did very well in the army, proving to be a capable soldier, and would meet others and befriend other soldiers and even marry a fellow soldier, Adeline Kane. They would later have a son together named Grant. Slade would later be assigned to a covert team named Team 7, where they would first take the name Deathstroke from himself. However, the team would fail and be later disbanded after a mission gone wrong. Later, Slade would volunteer for an experimental procedure that the US hoped would make a supersoldier. Only he survived, and he would, after recovery, test his newfound limits and deal with criminals. When he was arrested a month later, Adeline gave him an ultimatum, continue this new behavior or his family, and Slade would choose his family. However, when he was approached by a member of his old team, William Walsh came to him about a job dealing with a scientist who if allowed to testify to Congress about the supersoldier experiment. It would place his family in the crosshairs, and he would be offered a million dollars for the job. He accepted and lied to Adeline about the true nature of his leaving. Slade would be given what would be his signature suit.

The job would succeed, and when Slade returned home, a suspicious Adeline questioned him about where he was. Which grew into an argument, and he would give in and tell Adeline the truth. This truth ended their marriage, which devastated Slade. This was made worse when he found out that William lied to him and that he and his family would have been fine despite the scientist's testimony. Now filled with guilt and remorse over his actions. Slade, after a long time of thinking, decided on a new path for himself. While he would support himself as a bounty hunter and mercenary. However, he would be selective and only choose jobs that aligned with his morals. Slade is committed to getting revenge on William and finding out who he was really working for. As Slade would discover, finding William and who he really works for is just the beginning.

S A M P L E P O S T:

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It has been a long day for Slade as he entered to his hideout, one of several. It was a dark and rainy night, and Slade could hear the rain fall on the old roof of his hideout. An old abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city, which Slade made sure was safe enough for him to operate from and out of view.

Another bounty, another job done. He thought to himself as he walked over to bed and sat down on it. Even if this bounty was a piece of trash and seemed like an easy jig. This bounty, Micheal Cole, was more of a problem than he thought. But, at the end of the day, Michael is behind bars, and he gets his payday. Still, at least now he can rest a bit and relax after a hard day's work.

As Slade slowly took off his armor and weapons, starting with his helmet. When his hand reached for his belt, Slade, for a moment, as if by instinct, reached for the hidden compartment in his armor and took out the photo of him with his family. At that moment, everything seemed to slow, and small tears started to form on his face. He messed up, that is clear, and he trusted the wrong person, and now the thing he cared for the most hates him. Slade's saddened voice spoke that single name, "Adeline," and then another, "Grant." Though he felt like crying, he knew he should not right now and calmed himself. However, his feelings remain the same. Slade does not know if he can reconcile with Adeline and be a family again, but that is something he will think about once he is done with William.

Anger slowly replaced sadness as Slade thought of that name. The man he thought he would trust ended up lying to him, and it cost him his family. Slade is not one to kill civilians or innocents, and he did so on a lie. He put the photo back in its hidden compartment and put his gear away. However, he kept his pistol and knife on his. Now in his civilian clothes, Slade walked over to his desk and accessed it in short order. Checking his bank account, and now, with his new funds, it is time to continue his mission. Find William Walsh and find out who he works for, and get revenge.

As Slade started his research, his encrypted phone rang, and it was someone he could trust. Someone who was also tricked by Walsh. Slade answered in a calm tone, "What is it, Wintergreen?"

Hearing that familiar British accent, "Slade, I have good news. I got a lead on Walsh."

Slade smiled in a way he had not done in a long time, "Wintergreen, tell me everything."

P O S T C A T A L O G:

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A list linking to your IC posts as they're created. This can be used for a reference guide to your character or to summarize completed interactions and stories.

@Theyra

Just to be clear, we aren't accepting explicitly villainous characters. If someone applies for one, the expectation is that they're being molded to a more heroic or anti-heroic alignment, IE. Wolverine and The Punisher. A strictly amoral character would have to be reserved as an NPC. So if you want to play Slade with that condition, we can agree to letting him in.

Ultimate One Universe: Emergence

An MB One Universe game and a brother doesn't even get tagged? Cold world.

@Morden Man

Ultimate One Universe: Emergence

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

@AndyC

That's just a given with Logan, and as for Ghost Rider... that concept is so good it transcends any game perimeters. That shit is quite literally fire.

Master Bruce's Multiverse Of Madness

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L

H U L K

"Go ahead. Try and piss me off."

^{_{David Bruce Banner ♦ MIA Nuclear Physicist ♦ Formerly Albuquerque, New Mexico}}

O R I G I N S:

---

There was always something wrong with Bruce Banner. Following frequent bouts stemming from alcoholism, his father Brian would meticulously belittle him and his mother and make the family's lives a living hell. By the time he was seven, Bruce would often shield Rebecca from Brian's increasingly violent outbursts, becoming unhealthily attached to the only source of stability he'd ever known. But at a short frame and severely underdeveloped due to malnutrition and stress, Bruce never stood a chance against Brian's fists and array of hurled household objects. It wasn't until he was twelve years old that he'd finally had enough of the daily trauma, and snuck a firearm from a classmate's father while visiting the house. It was loaded, and Bruce was fully prepared to pull the trigger on Brian without so much as a second's hesitation.

Then Rebecca found it. While she had every reason to be horrified that her son would go to such a length to finally be rid of their shared tormentor, her reaction was much different. One of calm serenity - of a way out. Weeks later, Rebecca saw her opportunity and sent Bruce off to stay with relatives for the night, having saved enough money for him to see a movie. Even made the excuse that the reason she wasn't going was because Brian had given her a black eye - a lie that, at any other time, would have been true anyway. Whenever Bruce returned home, police were outside and had Rebecca in cuffs. A pool of blood and clear signs of a massive struggle were visible from the kitchen. Brian Banner was murdered by his tortured wife - all breathed a sigh of relief. But despite it being the end of one problem, a much deeper problem had made itself apparent: before this, Rebecca had long suffered from paranoid schizophrenia that had manifested as a low-level Dissociative Personality Disorder. And it was genetic.

The revelation guided Bruce throughout the rest of his youth, pushing him to keep others at an arm's length as he entered school studies to become a geneticist - to find a way to cure his mother and prevent himself from suffering a cruel twist of fate. There were methods of treatment available, and Banner even insisted on entering intensive therapy early. But the nightmares began to pop up more frequently and the mood swings made themselves apparent when he'd begin viciously arguing with his high school teachers and eventually, college lecturers. He'd even garnered a nickname for himself - Bruce "The Hulk" Banner, with the joke being that if he didn't get his way, he'd become not unlike a big unwieldy boat in a storm. It was only through falling for one of his many therapists - Dr. Betty Ross, the fiancee of Dr. Lenoard Sampson - that Bruce managed to quell his often volatile reputation. The two began an affair that would last off and on for years, completely without Leonard's knowledge. An affair that only ended when Bruce got his degree and established himself in the field of science, eventually bound for New Mexico under a top secret radiation research assignment codenamed "Project Worldbreaker".

The events that transpired would break the world more than anyone ever knew. And gives a new meaning to the phrase "You wouldn't like me when I'm angry."

S A M P L E P O S T:

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Home

"Sorry, Len, I'm just a bit rattled. Had to deal with Mr. Kerns again. You know how that goes..."

Elizabeth Ross pinned the cell phone between her ear and shoulder as she exited the car. A bag of a few meager groceries in one hand, and some Chinese takeout in the other, she nonchalantly marched up the driveway to the modest house she shared with her husband. Before she even reached the front door, she noticed a stack of letters sitting on the porch. Frustrated, she sighed to herself softly enough not to rouse Leonard's suspicion. The truth is that she had been anticipating this exact sight for weeks, given that neither she nor Leonard were around the house enough to collect the mail during the daytime. They were both workaholics and managed to keep all intimacy regulated to these evening phone calls, when he was amid a heavy caseload and she was just getting home. It was an uneventful life, but she had grown used to it. She silently hoped they both had, considering he never complained.

"That's the, what, hypochondriac? The one that told you he was convinced he..."

"Had eleven different tumors and they were all terminal? Yep. That's the one."

"Ouch. Sorry you had to sit through that again."

"The real problem is that he had me refer him to see a specialist, but she tells me that he didn't show up for the CT. And that she's been in contact with his radiologist, who's dealt with him before. His results have always been negative. The man's healthier than you and me and he still can't calm down about it."

"Maybe there's something else beneath the surface. A traumatic medical history when he was a kid..."

"Maybe he just won't rest until he's developed a few of them."

Betty paused, sighing out of frustration as she opened the door, the stack of letters shoved beneath her otherwise occupied arm.

"Sorry. That was testy."

"Testy, sure, but not entirely inaccurate. Sure you don't want to refer him over? Let me put him through the ol' highly-reliable Samson review?"

"No. Dammit, it's not even about him. Len, I'm just so... exhausted. It feels like it never ends over there. The office is great and the pay is the best I've ever had, but the clients... I swear, they're gonna be the death of me."

Placing everything on the kitchen counter, Betty placed her hands against it and leaned. The stress of the day washed over her and slowly made it's way out, now that she was in a calmer environment.

"Why don't you consider some vacation time? You know how much I've been begging you to go to Bermuda. And a buddy of mine tells me that the fishing up there is grand, this season. You'd get a hell of alot of sun, I'd get about three hundred types of oysters..."

She smiled to herself. Not at his corny proposition, but just at the mere thought of getting away to somewhere that wasn't... here. A different place that didn't carry these memories. These ghosts, as much as she didn't want to admit it.

"Mm. I'm not saying no, Dr. Samson..."

"But you're not saying yes, which is the clear sign of a woman who's reached her wit's end."

Removing her jacket and slipping out of her very tight shoes, she hesitated for a moment before answering.

"I... don't know. I'd have to think about it. Let me get back to you after I've had a very long, very hot and extremely bubbly bath."

"Nice. I can't think of a better way to ratchet up the water bill."

Betty smirked. "You know, you could join me if you hurried..."

"Tempting, but I'm afraid my schedule is about three times as long as yours. If we're gonna even consider this, I need to wrack up the PTO."

A crash.

Betty jolted upward, eyes widened, her heart pounding for what seemed like an eternity. Something had fallen over in the bedroom across the hall. Something made of glass, it sounded like to her, meaning that it was either one of the photos by the bed or one of the couple's mounted plaques by the dresser. Her hand trembling, unable to process whatever Lenoard was saying on the other end of the line as he droned on while oblivious to what was happening, Dr. Ross slowly pulled open the drawer beside the oven and quickly pulled out a large kitchen knife.

"Len. Someone's here."

"Hah. Good one. Yeah, bet it's your hypochondriac friend looking to verify another diagnosis..."

"Len. For god's sake, I'm not joking."

There was a pause.

"What?"

"Someone's in the house. Right now. I heard something fall."

"That's... honey, that can't be. We have an alarm system installed, the windows and doors are locked electronically, there's no..."

"Len. Shut up. Shut the fuck up and call the police."

"Call the... Betty? Betty, what are you doing? If you think someone's in there, get out of there! Get out of there right now and run!"

She placed the phone face-down on the counter, her eyes never leaving the door to the bedroom for a millisecond. Even as she heard her husband's pleas to get out of the house grow louder and more frantic, she began to ignore them. The fear was taking over, and her heart was now exploding in her ears louder than it ever had. Raising the knife infront of her as she slowly approached, Dr. Ross felt herself detached from the situation as quickly as possible. A sort of mental exercise to allow herself the ability to act first against this intruder and question everything second.

"Len? S-Sorry, you're breaking up. Say that... say that again?"

It was a pitiful lie meant to keep whoever was inside from guessing that she suspected anything. But it was the only lie she could muster up. There was even a part of her that began to think that something could have just fallen over of its own accord, that a slight breeze from the air conditioner had knocked over a frame. That she was being irrational and that there had never been anyone there at all.

Then she saw something move. Between the crack of the door as it hung slightly open, a shadow distinctly crossed the path where light would have otherwise protruded. Betty's heartbeat launched directly in her throat, and her breathing ceased. She stood motionless, the knife nearly falling out of her grasp.

There was someone here, alright. And she was all alone with them.

"Wh... Who's..."

Taking a deep breath, she strengthened her grip on the blade handle and began to frantically rush toward the door, her deep sense of panic be damned. This was her home and she was not about to be taken surprise in it. Not after the month she'd had, not after everything she'd gone through in the last year. It wasn't going to end like this, and whoever had broken in was about to get a rude awakening if they thought otherwise.

"STOP!"

Bursting through the bedroom door, shoulder first, Betty raised the knife into the air and closed her eyes. She tried to open them, but she was utterly too petrified at first. But she could hear it. The breathing that emanated from the other side of the room. It wasn't labored, but something about it was off. Like her would-be attacker was trying to register what they were looking at with her abrupt arrival. Shaking, her eyelids gently began to peel themselves apart...

It was a man. Hidden entirely in shadow, a man had somehow found his way into the bedroom. He was large, with an intimidating build. Betty could barely manage to pull herself together as she realized that her little kitchen knife might wound, but probably wouldn't kill this person if she had to attack.

Betty grit her teeth, her heart now firmly beating in her throat.

Her palms sweating.

Her mind screamed.

This was it. Now or never, she had to fight.

"Don't you move."

The man paused. Then, he stood up, revealing that he had been partly lying on the floor.

He was... tall. And he was growing even taller.

Betty's mouth went agape as he demonstrated a height that defied a conventional human. His muscles practically pulsated out of his skin. His skin was a pigment she had never seen in her life, a sort of gray... and a sort of green.

It took her a second to even realize that the entire southern wall of the room had been entirely knocked away, a dusty pile of rubble lying atop the soiled carpet. This man hadn't just broken in - he'd smashed his way through the house like a bulldozer. It was the only possible reason that no alarm had gone off. There were no entrances breached.

He'd made his own.

"I... I'm... I'm warning..."

Without warning, he stepped forward. A grunt emerged from within him. His face was suddenly fully in view, clear from the shadows.

Betty's heart stopped altogether. She recognized him.

"Oh my god."

He stood over her. Looked down at her. His expression turned from neutral to... rage.

^"Bruce?"

Before she could scream at the top of her lungs and feel the nightmare finally end, she saw a massive palm reach out to her and grab hold. Crushing. Blinding. Without a hint of humanity living within his grasp. She felt her bones begin to crumble beneath the massive surge of pressure, and without so much as a word, she surrendered to it. Because at this point, there was no point in fighting - he had her and he wouldn't let go.

This was how Betty Ross now believed she would die.

P O S T C A T A L O G:

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1. An Affliction

Master Bruce's Multiverse Of Madness

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L


^{"Not a bird. Definitely not a plane."}

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Clark Joseph Kent ♦ Intern At The Daily Planet ♦ Metropolis

O R I G I N S:

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The City of Metropolis, 1994. On the heels of a breakthrough discovery by STAR Labs director and renowned astrophysicist Doctor Alexander Luthor, something went horribly wrong. After a beacon was inadvertently shot into the vast reaches of deep space carrying an extraterrestrial code, meteors began to appear in the skies directly above. And with their arrival came absolute devastation. Buildings were smashed, cars were flattened, and explosions rippled across the skyline. A brilliant emerald fire consumed the heavens, striking below at helpless pedestrians and leaving a trail of massive craters for miles. And in the private lab in the bowels of STAR's main facility, Luthor lay nearly lifeless, disfigured with burns.

But with this devastation came a life-changing discovery by a kindly couple from Kansas. Having recently moved into the city to start a corner grocery store in Suicide Slums, Jonathan and Martha Kent heard a massive boom erupt just beyond their shop's walls. Thinking only of potential harm having come to one of their neighbors, they both bravely ventured into the destruction to try and help - and instead found a small silver craft with unrecognizable symbols etched into it, it's hull revealing an infant baby shielded inside. Taking the child into their arms, they immediately returned to safety for it's sake before helping survivors. By the time Jonathan returned to the crater, the craft had destroyed itself. The true nature of the baby's arrival was never discovered, as the Kents decided to adopt the child as their own, hoping to teach him how to exist within the confines of a city being rebuilt from the ground up - becoming 'The City Of Tomorrow', as shaped by the now reclusive billionaire Luthor.

But it became clear as he matured that their son Clark was developing in ways no other child would - that no other human could. The Kents went to great lengths to protect the nature of his strange abilities, teaching him right from wrong in a city that threatened to swallow up their old-fashioned goodwill in a siege of technological prowess. Still, they were never able to curtail Clark's boundless need to utilize his gifts - perhaps to atone for the violent nature of his arrival, perhaps because he simply needed to let it out of his system. A need that he carried with him into adulthood, where he has recently been granted a journalism internship for The Daily Planet, the television news network that employs Lois Lane, James Olsen, Cat Grant, and the legendary anchor-turned-news director Perry White. For his part, Clark didn't plan on revealing his powers to the world... but he also didn't plan to accompany Lane and Olsen on an assignment the very same day that a madman named Winslow Schott decided to attack the city with a series of heavily modified attack drones.

S A M P L E P O S T:

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First Impressions

"How's it hanging, rookie?"

Surprised, Clark Kent glanced over at one of his approaching senior co-workers as he finished preparing a fresh pot of coffee in the breakroom. It wasn't out of any sense of genuine fear on his part, but despite being officially interning for The Daily Planet for at least three days? Barely anyone had said so much as a word to him. The announcement of his arrival to the network had barely even been audible, between the introductions of a few others joining the staff - a kid named Troupe hired as a field correspondent, a woman in her mid-thirties named Izquierdo being transferred in as a producer - and the immediate devolution into a staff-wide debate on how to handle a chaotic breaking story, so Clark more than understood any confusion. But the complete inability to notice or greet him whatsoever was new.

The man was only seemingly a couple of years younger, if that, sporting a thin orange beard and nicely cut hair to match. He was instantly recognizable based solely on his vest, which was made of a thick material and covered in deep pockets. This was The Daily Planet's primary field cameraperson, a man whose picture was one of the lucky few to adorn the wall to the lobby of the building. He exuded a confidence that nearly took Clark aback, but it was a friendly kind of confidence. The kind that he had yet to see around the office so far.

"Uh, there's coffee."

Clark meekly pushed his glasses against the bridge of his nose, before sticking his hand out.

"Hello. I'm one of the interns."

"Interns? Oh! Right, you guys. I forget that old man Perry hires a couple of you around this time of year to break up the monotony. You're in for a wild ride, let me tell you."

Clasping Clark's hand with a firm grip, the man grinned.

"Name's Olsen. People call me Jim. I prefer Jimmy, if you don't mind."

Clark quietly breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed by at least one count, the abrasive world of nightly news wasn't as abrasive as it had appeared to be.

"Clark Kent. Nice to meet you."

As Olsen began to speak about how the coffee in the breakroom was the best in all the city, aswell as recommend a couple of good local spots to get a fresh cup for the lunch commute, Clark's ears automatically attuned to a couple of voices coming from the other side of the massive studio building. Having become used to this, Clark instinctively began to feign attention to Jimmy's rambling. He legitimately wanted to engage with the friendly co-worker, but it was as if his ears had a mind of their own. Listening in on conversations he would otherwise never hear or even know about was just one of the many burdens that came with Clark's series of "talents", as his mother affectionately called them.

"Are you kidding me?! That Luthor piece was a ratings smash in the making, Perry!"

"Ratings don't really mean much when they could invoke an army of litigators, Lois. You know that, considering the amount of them you've brought to our door..."

"Oh, like I asked for a Senator to cheat on his wife with a Mayoral candidate!"

"The station's still paying out to their campaign..."

"Regardless! Lex Luthor has been one of the top newsmakers in Metropolis since before you were even going gray. Which should tell you something about how long it's been..."

"Watch it."

"...and we finally put together a potential lead into why the rich weirdo's been hiding out in that literal ivory tower of his, but you want to kill it? What exactly does he even have to sue us for?"

"With the story? I'm not sure yet. With you being the one to read it on air? Plenty. Your objectivity has been waning in the past few months. You've been creating soundbites for the internet to stick every pitchfork they have at."

"It's called editorializing. Which I seem to remember you hiring me for in the first place."

"When you were behind a desk! When you were behind a desk and absolutely nobody had to pay the consequences for the things that came out of your mouth."

"S'a bit sexist, chief."

"First of all, your ability to spin things like this defies any gender-based discrimination. Secondly, DON'T call me..."

"The point is. The Planet finally has an angle to work from on the day-to-day of one of the world's wealthiest men on the cusp of a new scientific discovery. It's news, and you can't tell me otherwise."

"It is news, that I'll grant you."

"So why are you..."

"You seem to be confused about this request. And I'm calling it a request very generously because you're on my very last straw. I'm not asking the story to be buried altogether. I'm asking that you not be the one to deliver it when we go live."

"I'm the host of the damn program!"

"Yeah, and I'm starting to wonder for how long."

"What?!"

"How long you stay in that position, how long this station even exists at the rate you keep taking the legal department into court..."

"So, what, I should be more like you? Is that what you're asking? I should start developing a catchphrase to sell on the mugs in the station gift shop while being told to ignore the big stories?"

"You damn well know that I didn't come up with the Great Ceasar's Ghost thing. That was a producer's dumb idea in 1997, and it's haunted me ever since."

"The mug sitting on your desk right now begs to differ..."

"Lane. I'm telling you now. You're off the story. You wanna take on something in the field with Olsen, be my guest. But as far as the main broadcast is concerned, Cat's got it covered for tonight. By my request."

"Oh, screw you, White!"

"Lane? Lane! Get back here! We're not done! Great Caesar's... goddammit!"

Clark blinked once, unable to grasp the nature of the argument that he'd just heard.

"...and then there's Bibbowski's on 7th and Morrison. Bee-autiful selection of cocktails if you get there before the afternoon rush."

"Oh, I... don't drink, actually."

"To be honest? Me neither. I prefer a mountain of Red Bulls. But I like telling people about it, because believe me, a month here and you'll be desperate for something to kill the nerves."

As he and Olsen continued the mundane chat, he noticed a beautiful dark-haired woman fuming and muttering unrepeatable words at no one in particular as she cut across the news floor with a vengeance, a fresh pack of cigarettes visible in her back pocket. This was confirmed to be Lois Lane as she passed a giant mural on the far wall with her face plastered several feet high, paradoxically smiling widely and exuding an on-camera friendliness that didn't seem possible from the person he'd just heard.

Clark sighed. Even with all of his "talents", he didn't know if he was cut out for this business.

P O S T C A T A L O G:

---

1. Don't Worry, We Won't Break Him
2. Not-So Mild-Mannered Intern

Ultimate One Universe: Emergence

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

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

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

Ultimate One Universe: Emergence

Congrats or sorry that happened to you, but I ain't reading all of that.

@Hillan

You can't read to begin with.

Ultimate One Universe: Emergence

"Perry's gonna kill us for this, you know that?"

Lois Lane smirked as the speedometer on her dashboard reached 80 MPH. Her car weaving between traffic on the freeway, The Daily Planet's primetime anchor paid no attention to the fact that her cameraman - dutifully checking his equipment from the questionable safety of the passenger seat - was experiencing a comedown from the adrenaline of being asked to come along for the breaking story happening out at Hob's Bay. Neither Lane nor Olsen could attest to the nature of what the story was yet, given that an explosion at a factory could've been the result of anything from faulty equipment that had passed through half-witted safety inspectors to domestic terrorists hoping to get one in on the morally dubious billionaire that owned the company, but the fire in Lois' eyes more than adequately indicated that she didn't care - she was getting this story first, Perry White's misgivings be damned.

"Olsen, that's your anxiety talking. If you know Perry, you'll know that he doesn't want what he thinks he wants."

Olsen was almost too afraid to ask, but he did it anyway. "Uh, okay. Then what does he want?"

"Whatever we're about to give him. So lose the negativity and keep prepping the cameras."

That unwavering confidence must have been what made Lois Lane the household name that she'd become, Clark mentally noted, hunched over in the back seat while quietly searching for any mention of the explosion from social media. So far, it seemed that any locals that were posting about it were still trying to piece together what'd happened - from the street, the recurring verdict was that none had been injured but there were more police on the scene than paramedics, indicating that there wasn't cause for concern. Clark nevertheless hoped that nobody had been caught in the blast. The last thing he'd want to experience on this job was any human suffering - though he realized how naive that sentiment probably was.

Lois glanced back at the man in the glasses through her rearview mirror, realizing that he'd barely said a word in the twenty minutes since they'd left. People who barely spoke were often a source of frustration with her, so to say that he hadn't made a great first impression was an understatement.

"Hey, intern."

"It's Clark."

Lois took a drag from a lit cigarette, all but interested. "Uh-huh. Find anything yet?"

Clark cleared his throat, his gaze affixed to his phone, still too nervous to look Lois in the eye. The truth of the matter is, he'd become an admirer of her work over the last year. It was even part of the reason he'd thought to apply for an internship at The Daily Planet. Though it hadn't made itself readily apparent so far, her passion for human interest stories and the victims of policies that favored the upper class at the expense of the lower class bled through the screen. She actually seemed to care, which was becoming more rare to find in any news organization. So to his mild embarrassment, he still couldn't shake the feeling of being starstruck. Whereas she seemed more annoyed with his presence than anything.

"Well... going off of this, it doesn't seem like anyone knows anything."

Lane didn't miss a beat as she tossed the burning cigarette out of the window and placed her hand firmly back on the wheel. "Since you're new, word of advice. Never judge a situation at the outset. Somebody knows something. Don't let the overly-polished exterior of this place fool you, there's always going to be a hidden angle. You just have to know how to spot the ones trying to keep hidden."

Clark kept his eyes down for a different reason, desperately trying not to show a reaction that might betray his rather contradictory circumstances.

"To be fair, I said the same thing about Intergang. And yet you and everyone else at the station remain a skeptic."

Clark's eyes suddenly darted up at Jimmy, curious. "Intergang?"

"Yeah. You've heard of them, surely. The whole urban legend about a secret cabal of criminals running the day-to-day businesses. Like the Maggia in New York except, well, more modern and tech-based. People used to think that Intergang was the whole reason that the city got practically rebuilt overnight after the big meteor shower before Luthor resurfaced and took credit for it. But I still think there's alot that Intergang's existence could answer about a few things, like how Lex managed to bribe his way to absolute power."

"He did it by having more money than God, Jimmy. Get enough of it yourself and you wouldn't need some all-powerful committee of stripe-suit fedora clowns from a Scorsese film to buy your way into any backroom dealings..."

"But it wouldn't hurt. And even with all of his money, Luthor couldn't have..."

"Oh, c'mon. You also believe that a giant monkey is living in the sewers."

Jimmy became visibly irate at that. "There is one, Lois! Titano's very real and nobody's doing anything about it! There's a ton of evidence online, you wouldn't believe how many witnesses are out there!"

Clark smiled to himself, his initial nerves finally subsiding. He and Lois even shared a glance of mutual amusement at Jimmy's brief loss of composure - but in a way that he could tell quietly meant she'd deny it if he ever so much as breathed a word to anyone. Even so, he considered it a small victory that she didn't look at him with contempt the entire time.

"Actually, I've read that Luthor gained all of his wealth through the military-industrial complex."

Lois and Jimmy glanced at eachother, surprised that Clark sounded so confident in such an assertion. The mild-mannered intern had barely even said two sentences at a time to either of him in his first week on the job, so hearing that he'd possessed any interest or insight into Metropolis' so-called leading citizen took some measure of adjustment. Most people were content to simply read off the blatantly edited facts approved for Luthorcorp's Wikipedia page.

"At least, that's what I've read in archived national news articles, before everything went digital. His lawyers have tried to have it buried, but a few key moments in the lead-up to the war in Iraq, the ongoing insurgency conflicts in Bialaya, and a few other big government operations were crucial to getting him an audience with S.H.I.E.L.D. And this part is conjecture, but it's likely that he designed a few state-of-the-art weapons for them, pocketed the contract earnings, and plunged it back into Metropolis' infrastructure."

"You read that in... I'm sorry, archived national news articles? Those things that no one ever cites as a credible source because it's just a bunch of cliff notes to be used for some passing-grade college theses?"

Clark adjusted his glasses, perhaps realizing that he was forgetting himself.

"I... had alot of free time in Met U."

Lois scoffed. "I'll bet."

"Isn't your dad in the military? Maybe he could confirm if Lex gets his money from weapons contracts instead of just computer hardware and security systems like he's always claimed. That could be a huge story in and of itself."

"Firstly, my dad and I haven't spoken since high school graduation. Secondly..."

"Mr. White wouldn't let you run a story about Luthor even if you wanted to. He's too litigious and his lawyers are some of the best in the country. Probably even the world."

Lois raised an eyebrow. "How did you know that?"

"Easy assumption to make. Men like Luthor always have their bases covered."

For a fleeting couple of seconds, Lane looked back at him from the rearview mirror once again, genuinely impressed by the seemingly meek stranger's quick response to the Luthor question. Most people in Metropolis were all too glad to let Luthorcorp foot the bill for the city after the widespread destruction in '94, so the billionaire had gained enough leeway in the public eye to earn very few outspoken skeptics. Lois had always been one of the few, so to hear a brief level of fire from a man who didn't look like he'd seen the outside more than a few days of his life was somewhat mystifying.

"Any more at home like you?"

"Not really, no."

The feeling didn't last. Lois and Jimmy immediately eyed the cloud of thick, billowing smoke that was rising out of the oncoming scene of Hob's Bay. Turning onto the next exit, Lois wordlessly stepped on the gas and started making her way past a growing volume of traffic ahead. As Jimmy started clinging on for dear life, Clark simply looked back down at the phone, hoping that neither of them would dwell on what he'd just said. One of the biggest problems with working at a news media company was the fact that he'd expressly told himself not to be noticed. Getting excited and trying to make connections this early seemed to betray that rather crucial goal.

"Alright, gameplan. Jimmy, I'm gonna need some exterior shots. Crowds, site of the explosion, police presence. The works. That'll give me enough time to charm my way into a few on-camera interviews. See if any factory workers know what's going on. Any cops with a DPNN+ subscription would be a bonus."

Olsen raised his oversized DPNN-branded ENG camera onto his lap, wrapping the strap over his shoulder. "Easy-peasy. What about Clark? What do you need him to do?"

"Who?"

Jimmy and Clark looked at eachother. "...Intern?"

"Oh. Right."

Coming to a stop under an overpass as soon as it became clear that there was too much traffic to circumvent without going on foot, Lois looked back at the man from over her shoulder, struggling to come up with anything. Even if he didn't say it, Clark didn't take it personally. After all, she hadn't anticipated bringing him along, much less giving him firm directions on how to approach his first-ever stab at fieldwork. Even if Lois seemed abrasive on the surface, it was clear that she had simply never worked within the confines of a group beyond her and one other person - likely Jimmy, who seemed to have a genuine rapport with her. It was probably just the mode in which she was used to working.

"Look, no offense, but this could be dangerous. With one explosion, there's always the chance that another could go off if it hasn't already. And the last thing Olsen or I need is a tagalong to complicate things. So I'm just gonna say that for this one, stay in the car. Keep a lookout and call one of us if you see anything. Maybe call the office if we're not back in an hour. I don't know."

She had tried her best not to sound condescending, but Lois wasn't sure if she had succeeded. Surprisingly, however, Clark was amendable to these conditions, giving a nod and going back to browsing his phone instead of trying to respond with any argument. Lois wasn't sure if she needed to be thankful or if she needed to roll her eyes. This intern was probably another millennial who'd rather spend most of his time behind a screen than be around where the action was. And if there was a type of person Lois could never relate to, it was that.

"Right. Good talk. Jimmy?"

"Lead the way."

As the two of them departed the car, Clark shut off the phone and looked back up, quietly watching them approach the crowd of onlookers being directed by police to avoid the ambulances. He sighed under his breath, trying not to let himself get too wrapped up in the rising disappointment. It wasn't that he actually wanted to sit out the assignment - with his abilities, he'd actually be quite the boon to the investigation. He imagined that being able to see and hear through solid walls tended to be extremely useful to uncovering the truth about the origins of an explosion. But then, he also saw the crowd that was still building ahead.

All of those people. They were each potential witnesses if he made a wrong move, or did even the slightest thing out of the ordinary. They'd accuse him of being a mutant, even though it had been clear for years that something else was the cause of these things he could do. And such prejudices weren't just going to go away overnight because he happened to be of a different origin - none of the detractors cared about where mutants themselves came from, much less the fact that they were just people trying to live their lives.

So however the times had changed and whatever the modern public claimed to be in regards to their level of tolerance, Clark was almost certain that the only thing his powers were to be met with was paranoia and fear. And having to face that every day for the rest of his life was the last thing in the world that he wanted.

Despite what Lois had said before, some things were just worth keeping hidden.

---

From within the still-smoking ruins of the Hob's Bay Luthorcorp Processing Plant, something had awoken.

Firefighters were still inside, tasked with containing the resulting fires that had sprung up after the explosion had leveled the East Sector's wall, sending a few of the plant's workers to the hospital with varying levels of injury. A root cause had yet to be established, but that was for the forensics team still waiting outside. Paramedics had yet to come back for another sweep, either. The police initially seemed convinced that it was the work of one of the mutant workers, a janitor named Jones, but his records had been pulled and the CCTV footage confirmed that he wasn't anywhere near the East Sector at the time. Not to mention that he was on Luthorcorp's own pharmaceutical cocktail of mutant inhibitors.

No, it had been something else entirely. And it started, of all places, in the bowels of the server room. A few lines of code that had been coming in through wireless signals, were unnoticed and seemingly harmless. They hadn't even tripped Luthorcorp's significantly advanced firewalls, they were so minuscule. But whenever this innocuous data had reached a specific point beyond the public facade of the plant, to a massive testing lab sitting several feet below the manufacturing floor that hadn't been on any official records, that was when something had stirred to life. Lights began to flicker in the halls beneath. The whirring of machinery had gradually begun to whine in the distance. Before anyone had even noticed, several large objects had even started moving.

As it turned out, Luthorcorp had been holding onto a secret.

A secret that was moments away from spilling out onto the streets.

"...pppl... peple..."

"...people o-o-of... Me-Me-Metropolis..."

"...People of Metropolis..."

Ultimate One Universe: Emergence

You saw nothing.

Ultimate One Universe: Emergence

@webboysurf @Eviledd1984 In that case, I can't really argue against his usage in the Deadpool story. Fair enough.

To restate for posterity, though: we're treating villains as a free-for-all except archenemies. If a hero character wants to let said archenemy be used widely, that's fine, but the golden rule should always be to ask beforehand if it's questionable. No one's likely gonna use The Joker before Mao Mao does, for instance, so any infraction of that will have to re-edit their posts.

Obviously, a version of a hero created in this game could have different archenemies than the norm aswell, and that's fine. Just try and make it clear beforehand. If someone takes a character you wanted to make the big bad in your stuff, the risk is there that they'll be favored and you'll have to rethink what you're doing.

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.