Pacifista

Ultimate One Universe: Emergence

@Pacifista at this point you're just reacting and not even reading them aren't you? You're just messing with me.

@Sep

I would never! React on a post I haven't read, that is. Messing with you is merely a by-product.

Ultimate One Universe: Emergence

---

The small metal chamber was barely lit, monitor displays blinking under the flashing of a red light. A few bars and meters seemed to be low, but the lone occupant of the cramped space was paying them no mind whatsoever. Sitting in the chair that made up nearly the whole of the room, the red haired young woman had her eyes closed. Her hands, feet, and waist were trapped in heavy metal restraints, and a collar with a number of tubes bound her to the seat by her neck. There was liquid in them, but it was growing thin. With a pneumatic hiss, they released, the girl slumping in her chair. She had just begun to stir when the chamber began to open. Water spilled through the hatch, the girl waking with a start and a gasp. Taking stock of the situation, she moved decisively, kicking off from the seat and into the water. Split between deep blue and light, her arms and legs pumped until she broke the surface, a blue sky awaiting her. Green eyes squinting against a yellow sun, she treaded water for a moment before breaking from its surface entirely. Water dripping from her tall form, the silver trim of her purple leggings and leotard caught the sunlight, her long red locks swaying with every turn of her head, splashing water about. She ran her hands across her body, testing her silver bracers before raising her hand. Her eye glowed green before her hand did, a matching blast of energy vaulting into the sea. Relaxing a little, she ran her fingers through her hair before her hand found itself on the back of her neck. A small black diamond had been etched into the top of her spine, a brand in the skin. She frowned, falling back a little, floating in parallel with the unknown salty sea.

Koriand’r of Tamaran was free without being free. Her prison ship had malfunctioned, her captors branding and sealing away their cargo. She could only infer that she’d been sent off to the nearest habitable world to be retrieved later. How long could it have been? Her life support could no longer sustain her and thus had to release her before she could be retrieved. Her heart sank as she imagined the Gordanians swooping upon her, a fear that had her eyes shooting open, only to get another view of the wide empty sky, lacking in floating cities or starfleets. She wondered what other prisoners had been released onto this world, but that thought was quickly replaced by a curiosity: what was this world?

Righting herself relative to the world’s gravity, she shot upward, eyes scanning the horizon until she saw a mass of gray. By the time she reached the landmass, green trees and fields of gold stretching before her past a sheer rock wall. Touching her heeled boots to the ground, though to foliage was of different shape and color, it was still reminiscent of the lush green fields of her home that hadn’t been torn by war. Growing curiouser and curiouser, she took to the air again. A strange black streak caught her eye, weaving through the landscape. It was hard like stone, presumably processed. She didn’t care for its scent, like heat and oil, an archaic fuel source used by Tamaran in its history. She hoped it was an artifact: a remnant of this planet’s past civilization. But Kori was perhaps too hopeful. Her optimism was shattered with a blaring noise like the roar of a makango. She looked up to see a bright, two eyed beast with a shiny red shell barreling at her. She was out of the way in moments, soaring through the air as a painful shrieking noise was joined by an acrid scent even worse than that of the stone. A head poked out of the side, Tamaranoid (albeit with much darker skin tone and hair color), looking around, before they got out and kept up their search, checking a ditch on the side of the pathway. Kori, more than wary, kept to the blind spot, using the local’s vehicle as cover or moving high out of sight, until they lost interest and returned to their vehicle, moving on with their day. Koriand’r realized her mistake with a giggle: it was a road for transportation of these slow vehicles. If the inhabitants of this world didn’t have much better, then Koriand’r would have little hope of leaving without the Gordanians finding her, but it also meant their information network couldn’t reach here, allowing her some respite. With the road as her guide, finding civilization was no difficult matter.

-----

Koriand’r didn’t grasp any of it, but she didn’t mind it one bit. The air was filthy from the exhaust of their vehicles (more common than their people, it seemed). She was hesitant to use her means of understanding the local language, unfamiliar with the culture, but it may be a sacrifice she’d have to make. As she walked along the roads, she caught plenty of attention and stares. The small rectangular devices in their hands were often pointed her way, making her nervous. Tamaranians weren’t exactly the most well traveled in the reaches of the galaxy, so the girl standing above the average man or woman (much taller in some cases) in clothing much more upscale than the cheap and flimsy fabrics they were wearing was catching attention Kori couldn’t blame them for. This regard wouldn’t have been too unusual in plenty of neighborhoods back at home. Tamran had a number of fashions, but as royalty she was expected to keep to a certain array of colors befitting her position, and had been captured while in her battle dress, which would catch plenty of attention back home in any place other than the battlefield or palace. There was a bit of envy as she looked over the residents of this world in the varied colors and shapes of their outfits. Had she the time or money she’d have liked to try some out. A few of the folk tried to speak to her, so she smiled at them, hoping it was still a social sign of good faith on this world, and not, say, and expression of fear or loathing. At the very least it didn’t seem to aggravate any of her small interactions.

Just as she was starting to feel a bit tired mentally, her stomach’s hunger catching up with her, she was accosted by a slightly shorter man with dark coverings obscuring his eyes and slicked back yellow hair. His words were beyond Kori’s comprehension, and he was waving a paper card at her her with more text she couldn’t read. She couldn’t quite tell his mood: was he elated, or angry? And if he was angry, was there a problem? She felt a burning sensation on the back of her neck. It was not the tracking chip installed: she knew it was purely a psychological response of her own. Keeping out of arms reach, she floated upwards to a few gasps and shouts. The man’s jaw and card dropped to the ground. Kori didn’t linger on it for too much longer, floating off to an area with more quiet and hopefully more food. If they had nothing edible for her on this world then she wasn’t sure how she was going to cope...

The planet’s star was rather high in the sky, Koriand’r watching it lackadaisically from her seat on top a small building with a faint rancid smell in a secluded area of nature. Her mood was rather sour, her constant skywatch based in a reasonable fear. Yet, there was something more at odds with her. The masses of people roaming about, the vague interest in herself despite being a foreign body, the vast resources that seemed to be in use: these small, ignorant peoples were peaceful. The shadow of war was not on this doorstep. Had a neighborhood of Tamaran had this level of peace, it would be far louder with rancorous celebration in joy of life. They were simply existing, going about a day to day in ways Kori could hardly assume or predict without war to prepare for in one way or another. She was still hesitant to engage in her knowledge transfer, still afraid. She’d never done it with one outside of her race before. The Gordanians would attempt to bite of her lips should she try. Those of this world were complete unknowns: what would she learn about them? What would they learn about her? Were there ways they could call the Gordanians after all? Was trying to understand these people courting fate, or was she just meandering about in the face of inevitability?

There was a cry in the locale language. Kori looked down to see a red shape heading her way. Snatching the disc out of midair, she investigated it, not recognizing the scratched and faded artwork emblazoned on it. The material was stiff, but not completely inpliable. She didn’t test it, as the young juvenile of this planet would have likely been distraught if she were to break it. She tossed it back like she might a Nuvanian fragmentation grenade, but it only flopped awkwardly, not moving the same despite vaguely similar shapes due to the weight not matching at all. The child laughed. Koriand’r smiled, glad that there was yet another constant, another familiarity between the two cultures so distant. She didn’t understand his words but she watched him mime the proper throw. A brown beast roughly his size stood on all fours next to him, covered in fur with a tongue lolling out, creating a stupid yet cute expression. The boy had no fear of it, so she assumed it wasn’t harmful. He threw the discus properly, and it sailed through the air until his beast reached it, having run straight for it and nabbed it from the air. The boy wrestled with him for a moment, taking the disc back before tossing it Koriand’r’s way. It went a little wide, so she floated from the rooftop and caught it before it touched the ground. The boy yelled out in fright, or surprise perhaps, looking at her with wide eyes but not reacting negatively. Koriand’r took a chance, giving the disc a good toss. In her great strength, she used a bit too much force, the disc catching the air and flipping upwards. Grabbing it again, she used a bit more grace, making an elegant toss and finally letting it fly, the beast running after it. With smiles and laughter, the three of them continued to play with the disc until Koriand’r’s stomach reached its breaking point. Once again she’d been humbled, forced to beat back her own hubris and ignorance. Aliens as they might be (to her of course, to them it was she who was the alien), her fear was the thing most holding her back from connecting to any of them. The future was full of reasons to be anxious, but all of life was transient, and it should be enjoyed as much as possible.

Returning to the city’s hustle and bustle, her nose picked up a rare scent that wasn’t noxious. Observing a metal podium with lines of heat radiating off of it and a covering on a pole shielding it from the rays of the planet’s star, she saw that the woman’s creations would indeed be consumed. Approaching, she apologized in her native language before leaning down and taking the middle-aged woman by the shoulder, leaning in and meeting lips. She let out a cry of fright, arms flailing before Kori pulled away. “I do apologize! Yo esperaba my behavior to be inappropriate, pero era necesario.”

“What is wrong with you!? ¡Capulla!” Though the words were harsh and angry, Koriand’r felt a wave of relief, glad to simply understand them.

“I wish to procure one of these artículos alimenticios.” She pointed at the flat surface where cylinders of processed meat and foodstuffs of other shapes and colors cooked.

The merchant looked at her with wide eyes. “Then pay, stupid. There’s a line! ¡Apúrate!”

Koriand’r’s face fell slightly. “Este establecimiento not accept account numbers from Interplanetary Banking?”

The stare she received might have gouged through the infamously dense iron heart of a Pholathian draz mole. “Fucking LA. Oi, officer! Can you get rid of this puta imbécil? She’d holding up my business.”

Sorting through the words she couldn’t quite parse, Koriand’r started to get nervous as a blue uniformed man approached, black coverings over his eyes (a fashion choice Koriand’r was finding it hard to take in good faith). He looked up and down the tall woman, before asking, “What seems to be the issue?”

“I’m simply seeking food...”

“She can’t pay, make her leave!”

The hand of a fourth party reached over, grabbing the pole of the large shield and pulling it aside, the whole podium on wheels taking a tumble, the lady letting out a cry before scampering a few feet away. A handheld device beeped repeatedly, its dull metal pointed straight at Koriand’r. A pair of red eyes met hers from above. She was within the bounds of typical height for those of this planet, but this man was easily two heads over her. His skin was white like a Pax’ilian wraithworm, black markings about his eyes. A vest hung over his hair speckled chest, and his belt buckle’s emblem was in the shape of a fanged skull. The shock of long, coarse dark hair hanging back shook as he moved his head down to her with a leer. He cracked a smile. “Kond olo, bastiche.”

Ultimate One Universe: Emergence

@Pacifista How do you do it? How comes you're always the first person to react to my posts?

I will beat you at some point, I'm going to post at a time you're not around.

@Sep

Good luck I'm in your walls

Ultimate One Universe: Emergence

---

A green eyelid cracked open at the sound of the door shutting. Within a few moments Garfield could plainly hear the rustling of fabric, the shifting of a curtain, and running water. Stretching out his paws and upper body, he took a few strides out of the corner and left his cat form. He was clean for the first time in weeks, having swapped to a cheap Fortnite shirt and cargo pants Rachel got from a Walmart. A few wrappers of their late night mockery of a meal still hung around so Garfield rounded them up and threw them away before taking a seat against the wall as he waited. He’d managed a shower last night, his old clothes left in a pile on the floor, but when he’d come out, Rachel had already passed out on the lone bed. She hadn’t been willing to pay for two rooms or two beds so Garfield had joked about just sleeping in the corner, expecting to be finding a place outside, but she had been too tired to argue.

Eventually, the water went off and the door cracked open. Garfield awaited her in the form of a Labrador, dutifully sitting at attention, tail wagging lightly. “You’re still here?”

Dressed down to a fresh black T-shirt and shorts with a towel over her shoulders, she took a seat on the bed while Garfield turned human and crossed his legs. “Uh, yeah? You were going to do the familiar ritual thing.”

“...You can’t be serious. Did you not hear me? I want to-”

“Yeah, destroy the world for your dad, I remember.” Gar saw her eye twitch as she stared. He thought she was trying to probe him for a reaction so he kept as neutral an expression as possible, but as she leaned over slightly, her still wet hair falling from her shoulder, his eyes scanned her up and down as he felt his heart start to race. He’d thought he kept it pretty cool, but her face broke into a smirk. A chill ran down his spine.

“Pathetic. I suppose I should have expected as much from a literal animal who can’t keep his paws off of me.”

Images flashed through Gar’s head of last night of himself lifting her up off the ground and keeping her from falling when the inter-dimensional corpse came through. “Wait, nononono, that’s not why I want to help you!”

Rachel stood. “Then why? What possible thought in your tiny little brain could justify the destruction of everything you’ve ever known? Don’t you have a single worthwhile attachment?”

“Don’t you?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

Garfield stewed to himself for a few moments. “Of course I do.”

“So you are lying to me to get into my pants.”

“When did I lie?” Rachel glared. “I said I want to help you and that’s that. Does the reason really matter?”

Rachel was still for a moment. She ran her towel across her head and tossed it aside before sitting down. “No, no it doesn’t. Once you’re my familiar you’ll have to heed my commands anyway. If I want you to fetch an artifact, steal something, or turn into a wolf and rip out a 5 year old’s throat: you won’t have the agency to deny me.”

Garfield leaned back, hands propped on the carpet. “Oh, okay then. How does the ritual work?”

Rachel’s eye flashed and she gritted her teeth. “You’re taking me lightly, aren’t you?”

Garfield shrugged. “What? I don’t think you’re as bad a person as you think you are. You helped those mages yesterday didn’t you?”

Rachel’s mouth shot open only to flop awkwardly. She struggled through her thoughts before finally belting out, “You made me do that!”

“Oh, does that make you my familiar then?” Rachel raised her hands, clutching at the air. Garfield felt a pressure around his neck, like he was in a headlock. He gagged, and after a moment it dissipated. He noticed a bit of Rachel’s dark magic fading away. Letting out a cough, he gasped, “Did you just Force Choke me?!”

“...I’m normally much better at controlling my emotions.” Garfield didn’t believe that for a second. “Besides, it doesn’t matter anyway. All the good I do, all the evil I do: Trigon will find his way into this dimension one way or another, and it will all be gone. That goes for you, me, everyone: everything. All those little chemicals in your brain are telling you, all the science and math you’ve learned, all the philosophy you’ve been force fed, the religion, even our souls and the metaphysical cycle: it’s just one universe. I don’t care if some God did make it all, Trigon’s conquered countless dimensions and he’ll conquer countless more. Everything turns to dust: what good is deciding what kind of dust you want to be when it’s all over?”

Garfield felt his spirit being weighed down. “What, so nothing matters?”

“No, not nothing, just everything humans have ever come up with or accomplished. It’s all the same for the entirety of this vast cosmos. All that matters is Trigon. The soul is far from immortal, but he is. When I herald in his reign, I’ll be the one thing in this universe he’ll find worthy of remembering. The only lament is that I won’t get to see it.”

Rubbing a palm in circles on his forehead, Garfield was exasperated. “And where did you hear all this?”

Rachel crossed her arms over her chest. “Trigon. My father. Keep up, I hate explaining the same thing twice.”

“...So your father told you he’s the most badass powerful God-killing inter-dimensional conqueror that ever existed?”

“...It...it felt...never mind.” She stood, grabbing her blue cloak off the end of the bed. Sniffing it, she cringed at the trace scents of garbage and sulfur still lingering. “I don’t have to justify myself to you. Once you’re my familiar I won’t have to hear a word out of your mouth ever again. I’m going to get the ritual book from my mother’s library. This is your last chance to run away.”

Garfield stood to his feet. As he took a step, he could feel Rachel tensing up. Raising his arm, he reached past her, swiping the remote from the nightstand. Plopping down, leaning against the bed, he flipped on the TV. “Sounds like a plan.” Rachel shot him one last nasty look before throwing her cloak on. The window shot open and she floated out into the LA morning. Garfield sat there for a few moments, pretending to watch TV, before he flopped his head back. He let out a long groan, “Oh maaaaaAAAAAAN!”

One Piece: The Devil's Due (Always Accepting!)

RICO

---

“What does chaos sound like anyway?” Pocketing a stray peanut into its cheek pouch, the squirrel scampered up the tree out of sight. “Well you’re no help!”

Stopping along the well tread and busy footpaths of Phoenix Beach, Rico started to stray from the busy areas and their merriment and revelry. “Chaos, chaos, chaos...if only Wicc were here, he was a smarty guy.” In his walk he ran into a few folk, and asked for their thoughts.

“Chaos is discord, so it’d be like banging your hands on a piano,” said an older gent.

“Prolly violence, like a fight. Got some money?” a homeless fellow had to say. Rico didn’t need to save his money any more so he gave him a few coins and one of the strawberry flavored candies.

“Well, screaming is a good indicator. I suppose it’s our job to follow the sounds of chaos,” said a Sootstrider. And that gave Rico quite the idea, the boy lighting up.

About 10 minutes later, the Sootstriders were involved in an incident, several of them being called to a tree in between a few of the complexes, some bystanders leaning out of windows to keep tabs on what was going on. Trapped in the tree was an old lady, the woman howling in fear. As they circled about, trying to climb the trunk, a red and green flash hopped in, scooping up the old lady in a flash, carefully dropping down with a cry of, “I’ve gotcha!” Once on the ground, Rico helped her onto a bench, her legs still trembling.

“What are you doing, that was dangerous!”

“Don’t worry guys, I had it, this kind of thing happens all the time.”

“...I don’t think that's true.”

“Sure! You wanted to feel young again, right?” Rico asked. The lady beamed, Rico’s kind understanding like a ray of light in the darkness of black uniformed Sootstriders admonishing her for adding some chaos to their day. She grinned, reaching up to grab his cheek. Rico held it at bay, clarifying, “Okaaaay, but you only get one! Ow.” Rico took the pinch in stride, doing a hard candy exchange before the crowd dispersed.

Finding the Sootstrider from before, Rico asked, “Mind if I pal around with you guys for a bit? I’m looking for, uh, the sound of chaos. Mister...Phenix? Fenix? Phonics? Mister Fred put me on a job to bodyguard the Prince since some guys are comin’ to kill him dead.”

The Sootstrider went pale. “The Trenders? You? That fits with what we've been told recently, but you don’t need to go searching. We know where he is since we’ve been keeping watch at a distance, but engage at your own risk. He’s bound to be more dangerous than any assassin that comes after him.”

Rico held up a hand, unfurling his fingers to reveal a hard candy lodged between each one. “I have a way with people.”

One Piece: The Devil's Due (Always Accepting!)

I made a new game discord so join when you're up for it!

Don't answer DMs of people asking you to play a game to help them with a college project ;~;

Also I'm working on a Rico post but needless to say I've been busy...

One Piece: The Devil's Due (Always Accepting!)

My discord account got hacked so please don't respond to any unusual messages!

Ultimate One Universe: Emergence

---

They’d agreed to wait. It only made the most sense. Things were hectic all over and for Jean to drop everything into one endeavor perhaps wasn’t the smartest. She wondered if Scott thought that maybe her feelings would cool, but for days on end they consumed her.

It’s true that it wasn’t her priority. When she had a bit of time she took a bit of an evening flight, dressing in dark clothing and using her telekenesis to roam about while Nathan slept and Scott worked. She was plagued with constant pangs in her heart and visions of one thing or another going wrong at the apartment, but she was only planning on being gone for an hour. She promised herself that much. It was an interesting experience: she had never used her powers for such a long period of time on such a relatively large object, and once she got the hang of it she was zooming about. It had taken her 5 minutes to return from the neighborhood that it took her 15 to reach at first. The biggest difficulty was navigation: she hadn’t been outside much at all at night, let alone at this elevation. She kept her phone on her and powered off, just in case, and put LED lights they had for power outages by her window, set to green and gold, so she’d know exactly where to fly in when she came back.

She hadn’t been flying errantly. While getting a lay of the land was part of the purpose, she also kept her mind out for the green skinned boy. She’d probed rather deeply last time, getting full scenes of his memories that had given him the burning feelings that would cause one to take a gun to an elementary school. While it wasn’t something she liked to do, as usual fearing potential negative effects, it gave her more than enough of a flavor of how he thought, which she hoped would allow her to detect him. Baltimore wasn’t exactly the most idyllic city, and the only place she could think to find who she was looking for was in the worst areas. And with her mind opened, she more keenly felt their bitterness, anger, their fractured minds, the cries of bliss from transient pleasures like alcohol or drugs. She’d intended to stay out searching for half an hour, but had to leave after half that. It was too much for her. It always had been. Those pushed to the dregs of society, those on the bus commute, to walking the streets: everyone was struggling in their own ways constantly. Suicidal thoughts, fantasies of violence and destruction, deep cries of agony behind smiling faces, a weight of heavy anxiety. She managed through her day to day because she’d gotten rather good at shutting it off, turning it into background noise. She hadn’t opened it in a long time, for good reason.

Was it selfish of her to only be trying to help one person? She knew that if she did everything she could for everyone in front of her, she’d break down. She’d done it before, at school she’d tried to push together two people who had silent crushes on one another, but it fell apart. Perhaps it would have gone that way eventually had it happened at all, but Jean still felt guilty and responsible for a role she took that none could ever have guessed at. Wasn’t being a superhero just tackling the loudest, largest problems? Mercifully, she hadn’t crossed paths with anything particularly troubling tonight. She wouldn’t be sure what she’d do if she did, not until she got to that point. She hadn’t really been in a fight before. But she’d have to take it all in stride. Seeing those two lights as she returned home, she wanted to believe in the power of symbols. Finding Nathan to be perfectly alright, she tried to get some rest, but any sleep she found was rather light.

-----

Hopping up the stairs, Jean returned from another day at work, eager to see Scott again. Their disparate schedules was a rough concession, but it made those daily moments all the more of a treasure. A bag bounced at her side, excitement uncontainable as she entered.

Scott popped his head out of the kitchen. “Hey! Hey, what’ve you got there?”

Putting down her things, a bit of apprehension came to her. “Don’t be mad.”

Scaott gave a light smile and a shake of his head as he returned to the kitchen, the smell of his pot of chili emanating through the house. “I can’t get mad at you, not for anything superhero related at least.”

Jean had just turned the corner, mouth agape. “How did you-”

She was interrupted by a soft kiss on the lips, Scott slipping the paper bag out of her hands. “I just knew!” Taking a peek inside, he observed, “Green and gold, huh?”

“I thought that X-genes are just a part of the evolutionary process, so green is a tie to nature. I thought about red because, well, Firebird, but I don’t want to be thought of as aggressive. Gold can be seen as representing compassion and optimism, and that’s really want I want to inspir-oh!” Jean shuffled through the bag of fabric, pulling out a piece of construction paper. “I was thinking about how to hide my identity and came up with this with the kids in class, what do you think?” Putting the piece of paper over her face, she looked through the two big eye holes. The page sat on her nose with two large triangle flaps pointing upward.

“Made with?” Scott raised an eyebrow.

She dropped the page. “Some of them have been excited about superheroes being real, and a lot of them have been anxious. So I thought it would be fun to try and have them think about being heroes themselves. We just used construction paper to make masks.”

“...You exploited child labor?”

“No!” Jean and Scott broke into laughter for a good few seconds. Wiping at her eyes, Jean looked over to see Nathan looking up at them from the other side of his barrier, a clear longing to be with them on his face.

A little while later, they sat at the table, Jean with her laptop, the TV in the other room on and playing Channel 5, all of them with food. They mask was set nearby, Jean stealing glances at it and starting to admit to herself that her design sense wasn’t the strongest.

“I think a mask is a good idea, I just don’t know if you should reveal so much of your face. And how were you going to conceal your voice? If one of your students or their parents or anyone recognizes you then it’ll be a sh...poopstorm.” Scott stole a glance at Nathan, using his finger to wipe some of the food that spilled onto his chin.

“You also don’t really like it,” Jean said knowingly.

Scott admitted, “It might look better when you actually get around to making it properly. Where are you going to get a sewing machine?”

Jean hadn’t made a costume in a while, but it wasn’t as though she lacked experience. “I bet one of the other teachers has one, if I say it’s for Halloween they might lend it out.” Scott dwelled on that, Jean catching a few of his reasonable misgivings. Would they want to see the finished product? Even if they just saw green and gold fabric, if a red haired hero wearing it popped up out of the blue, mask or not… “I’ll figure it out. For the voice though...I haven’t thought about it yet, augh.” She bowed her head, taking a bite of chili and listening to the TV a bit in the lull of conversation.

“- that could have been avoided if law enforcement were properly equipped to fight back against these powered individuals. If we could rely on our civil servants instead of vigilantes and the odd mutant with a conscience.”

Freezing mid bite, Jean blinked, stunned like she’d just received a slap. She turned to Scott, who’d similarly stopped with a spoonful in front of his mouth before dropping it back into his bowl. They didn’t need to exchange a word, both of them standing and moving to the living room to get a better look at the TV. They watched the young CEO of Stark Industries parading about the stage decorated with metal men in various colors with weapons out and visible on many of them. The name said it all: War Machine. Jean leaned back in her seat, a trembling hand over her face. Scott gripped the arm of the couch, veins bulging from his hand.

“He- he did not just-”

“Can’t take the mask off if there wasn’t one in the first place!” Scott leaned forward, heel bouncing on the ground. A few feet away Nathan let out a low whine.

“People are saying the police need to be de-funded and he calls it War Machine! He said law enforcement, didn’t he?” She paused as he did. And the crowd continued to clap and cheer. That was the worst part. She felt her insides crashing down, each clap like a sledgehammer to an old mansion. It made her sick. Disgusted even.

It took a minute or so for them to gather themselves. “Jean, I’m sorry for ever doubting you.” He put a hand on her back, stroking it softly. “If you weren’t going out there, after seeing that I’d be the one figuring something out.”

Jean’s breath was starting to steady, but each deep breath still shook her. Looking back at the screen as Tony introduced his War Machine pilots, she caught the suit or armor sitting as a centerpiece. “I’m so glad I didn’t go red and gold, ugh.” Scott managed a smile, pressing his forehead against Jean’s shoulder. “The ‘odd mutant with a conscience’, oh what I wouldn’t do to give him a piece of my mind.” She clutched at the air before storming from the couch, giving Nathan a reassuring kiss on the forehead and snatching another bite of food. Taking him in her arms, she floated his high chair and their bowls of food back to the living room, Scott watching with awe and trepidation.

“So what, they’re going to put a War Machine in every major city in the US? I have to buy half my school supplies for my one class but the BPD are going to get a shiny new toy to crash through the Basilica.”

“Or we’ll just get fresh take on the Gun Trace Task Force. Dear god if someone takes a joy ride in that thing...who thought this was a good idea? A whole room of the smartest minds in the countr-”

Scott stopped dead as the next exposition began, a mammoth in red and purple emerging: a bona fide mech straight out of the pages of science fiction. Its face and shape were roughly human, yet it displayed no humanity whatsoever. Bolivar’s Tasks words didn’t carry any either. ‘Human problem’, ‘DNA scan’, ‘mutant gene’, ‘registration’. Each of these words and phrases sucked all the air out of the room. She and Scott went deathly quiet. Hand trembling, Scott turned off the TV. Their bowls were placed down, the contents destined to grow cold. They didn’t have much appetite any more. Jean stood for a moment, picking Nathan up. With a flash of her mind, the paper mask on the table fluttered into the trash can and she sat back down. Scott wrapped his arm around the two of them. She looked into his sunglasses before leaning in, pressing her head against his chest, feeling his warmth, so needed right now to stave away the cold fears gripping their hearts. She gently stroked Nathan’s back, holding him close. She knew she and Scott were thinking the same thing. If Trask’s Sentinels rolled out, there would be no hiding. So Jean wasn’t going to hide, come hell or high water.

Ultimate One Universe: Emergence

SIX MONTHS AGO

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Vic didn’t know why it was so cold. Not freezing, no, freezing didn’t seem to exist here. He’d caught a glimpse of the surface once when he was brought here. Vast stretches of ecumenopolis in between towering pillars spewing endless flame. It shouldn’t have been a place that could support life. Certainly not human life, and yet, here he was staring up at a dark stone ceiling. His breath came in and out but he didn’t feel any air moving. He moved his right eye. His left didn’t want to work, nor did the rest of his body. Vic had sleep paralysis once before. It had been peak football season and his knee had been acting up. He hadn't told anyone, just in case he was benched in his last school year. His grades were slipping and his parents were getting on his case (like he wasn’t still valedictorian material with a 3.9 as opposed to a 4.1). He’d known they were just worried about him, and it’s not like they were wrong, what with how stressed he’d been. Stressed enough to have a bout of sleep paralysis, he’d assumed. They were parents and he was just a kid, it’s what they were supposed do. He didn't remember what their faces looked like anymore. He just imagined them with purple eyes and the overbite of the only humanoid face he’d seen, one that plagued him like a ghost since he’d gotten here. He still had the feeling of them and the love or annoyance they’d given, holding on to everything through his waking moments to keep it from slipping away, but he felt like it was slipping away always. Was the grass of the football field always gray? All his memories had been tinted to red and orange for that was all he’d seen. That and black, like the shadows that filled every corner and the whips that tore his flesh when he had misstep on his menial labor of moving stones back and forth across a field for no reason other than to do it with no end in sight. Come to think of it, it’d been football sized. Moving stones back and forth for no reason: it was all the same.

He heard laughter and chills went down his spine. It was low, droning, and forced, made because there was no other choice rather than out of true mirth. Laughter itself was a crime here, mirth more of a privilege than anything. He wondered who was laughing, but it was him. He wasn’t in sleep paralysis, he was awake indeed. Why couldn’t he feel anything but the stone he lay his head on? A sharp grip found his scalp, pulling the skin under his curly hair. A face curled over him: the dull purple stare and bald head of Dr. Bedlam causing him to go still. He held a lone finger up to his lips. “Shhhhhh, the delicate part is almost done. I will forgive you just this once, but should anyone else hear then there will be not a thing I can do for you. Not a thing! And I’m already taking care of everything for you.”

Vic could speak but he didn’t want to. Instead he tried to move his body, but it wouldn’t listen. His eyes flickered but he couldn’t even see past his nose. He felt fear but his heartbeat seemed distant and stable. Dr. Bedlam casually wondered, “Do you want to see?” Victor didn’t say yes or no. Bedlam took it as a yes. Flashing his teeth, his grip was a bit more gentle this time. He pulled Victor up and he saw a segmented length glistening red expect where metal plates were installed, small metal arms working on coating the structure with machinery. Wires and cables were attached to what remained of his spinal column, going off to other machines. He couldn’t feel his feet because he had no feet. He couⱢdn’t feel arms because he had no arm𝕤. He cou𝚲dn’t bod𝚢 had n𝘖 body. C𝇈uldn’𝛕 fe𝀣l no l𝛦gs no leg𝛓s ꧶ould︖’t feel bac𛱘 no ︸꤂uldn’t feel fi𝈆gers cou꠵d꣣꣤꣤nꢓt ꠷o lungꚘ elbowꜦs heꞵrt nail꣔ stꕕmach coꔅuldn’t ䷽eel no꒤ thin︙

He screamed he screamed he screamed he screamed he screamed he screamed he screamed he screamed he screamed he screamed even though he didn’t have a throat or lungs or vocal chords so he couldn’t stop

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“HRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!”

ONE WEEK AGO

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Victor jumped with a start. His right eye was greeted with darkness, slowly adjusting to the low light of night. His red eye flashed with warnings, highlighting danger as a gold and green bug eyed monster with small metal wings and a black firearm stood over him. Victor threw aside his blanket, gray with a coarse texture, but the gun already fired, a red beam of energy sending him back to the floor before he could do more than sit up. The concrete was scoured by the metal of his silver limbs as Victor rolled to his feet. There was a crack, and he saw stars, head colliding with the small bridge under the walking path he’d found to sleep under. His skull might have been metal, but the skin still bled, the brain within knocking lightly. Generally, Victor treasured the piece of humanity he had left, but now it wasn’t doing him any favors. He felt a rough shove from behind, a second parademon giving him a brutal shove. He splattered into the dirt, the two of them letting out shrieks that might have been laughter. No, not laughter, not from Apokolips. They were war cries of victory sung too soon. Fingers melting away, a cannon took the place of his arm, a sonic blast fired off. The wooden bridge was reduced to splinters, and the parademons were blasted back. Getting back to his feet, Victor leapt at the nearest one. With a feral roar, he plunged his remaining fist into his face again and again. Though they were monsters there was flesh underneath, and Victor brought out of hiding. Another blast hit him on the back but after being buffeted he turned his sonic cannon on them and tore them to shreds before going back to his main prey, launching another fist into the puddle of flesh.

It only found dirt. Frantically patting the ground, Victor didn’t find even a stain. Jumping to his feet his head swiveled around, there was no sign of parademon or weapon anywhere, only the destruction left behind from his cannon, its technology beyond this world. Running fingers across his forehead he rolled the blood and sweat he found between his finger and thumb. The messages from his red eye still flashed.

STRESS LEVELS HEIGHTENED. APPLY SEDATIVE? Y/N

Dismissing it, Victor closed his eye, letting his thoughts quell, letting sleep the nightmare that had awoken him every night since he returned to Earth. He fought to escape for what? A family he couldn’t bring himself to see? A prison he was still trapped in? Mirthless, he laughed. It was the one freedom he’d earned. Stooping down, he grabbed his blanket, pulling it from the rubble and shaking it free of as many splinters as he could. Draping it over his shoulders he walked off, going parallel to the city lights of LA, for he didn’t know where to go but in whatever arbitrary direction he’d decided was forward.

Ultimate One Universe: Emergence

Oh yeah, I’ve been following the convo but I didn’t even think to chime in even though I’m technically relevant lol.

I don’t have plans for Slade/Deathstroke as much as I have small potential ideas that could be done with a myriad of characters, I’m sure. I specifically didn't dedicate myself to him because he's cool and it wouldn't surprise me if someone wanted to scoop him up. @Theyra If there’s collab potential we can talk about it. Though I’m not familiar with the character outside of adaptations (Teen Titans 2003 and Young Justice) where he’s pretty much a villain, and the rules do technically state only canon heroes and anti-heroes can be applied for. I’m sure there’s gray area (Magneto for example is primarily a villain, but has been anti-hero at times I think, and Hillan’s app was accepted), I’m just not sure what the GM ruling would be, but since Sep was the one who offered it in the first place I assume it’d be fine!