The Create-A-Post Thread [Archive] - The SuperHeroHype Forums

Harlekin

01-09-2009, 03:59 PM

The post that you are about to read is something I had planned, in broad strokes anyway, for White Tiger (Kasper Cole) (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kasper_Cole) over in the Marvel RPG over for quite some time. It would be the third epilogue to the Marvel Knights arc. Unfortunately, I never even got to write a first or second epilogue or even a real conclusion. To just catch you up: the Kingpin (Wilson Fisk) used Kasper to get the Marvel Knights to go to Japan. As a result, Kasper was not only tortured, he did not see his mother (Ruth), girlfriend (Gwen) and son (Jack) for over a week, and they knew nothing of what had happened to him.

Kasper would’ve come home to an eviction notice. Josiah X a.k.a. Justice, a friend of Kasper would’ve taken in his family. Gwen would refuse to take him back and Kasper would’ve ended up living in a single bedroom apartment. Suspended from the police force for his absence, Kasper would basically be in the pits – although I had far worse planned for him – and contemplate giving up his White Tiger identity, the costume that’s gotten him into so much trouble.

Okay, now that’s that out of the way:

WHITE TIGER NO MORE

Kasper Cole scanned the racks of the 24/7 store he was in. The items on the shelves were either ridiculously expensive, the name brands marked up to maximize profit, or so cheap that Kasper doubted their quality. Truthfully though, the suspended narcotics officer could hardly be choosy.

“Hard choice, huh?” Kasper turned to where the voice was coming from: a young man in his late twenties, Caucasian, brown hair, brown eyes and with decent clothes. He looked out of place in the neighbourhood, even more so than Kasper, who’d only earned that nickname for being so white in the first place.

“Yeah, I can never figure out if I should go for ‘Krispy Krutters’,” Kasper replied, taking of the boxes of cereal into his hand, “or if I should just go for ‘Joe’s Jollies’.”
The other man laughed. “That last one sounds like a bad porn movie.”
Kasper laughed along as he replied: “I’ve seen it though. Actually pretty good for a skin flick.”
The stranger didn’t know how to respond, and looked at Kasper slightly dumbfounded until Kasper smiled and he grinned as well.
“Picking up for you or for the kids?” the man asked as he put the Krispy Krutters in his basket.
“Just me,” Kasper replied solemnly.

The two separated then, each picking out different items. When Kasper came up to the counter, he had cornflakes, some microwavable edibles, toilet paper and a selection of baby food. He was embarrassed to admit he didn’t know which his son preferred.
“My daughter used to devour that stuff,” the man from earlier said as he came to the counter with his groceries and pointed out one of the canisters.
“Tasted it once too. I can see why she likes it. Babies get the best food.”
“The best milk anyway,” Kasper replied as he picked out the item and studied it.
“You got that right. Married?”
“No. Not yet, anyway.”
“Don’t waste time. You never know what happens tomorrow.”
“Sounds like it’s coming from a man with experience,” Kasper said unwittingly.
“You can say that. My wife passed away some time ago,” the man replied and Kasper felt like smacking himself in the face right there and then.
“I’m sorry.”
“No, no, don’t worry. I’m just saying, don’t wait too long. You never know how much time you’ve got.”
Growing uneasy and hoping to the change the subject somewhat, Kasper asked: “How old is your daughter?”
“Five, already got a bit of that troublemaking streak.”
“Heh, just like her old man, I bet.”

The two continued talking outside of the stores, each holding their groceries in hand.

“So what line of work you in?”
“I teach with a bit of photography on the side.”
“How’s that working out?”
“Well enough, I guess. I mean, I don’t pick the Krispy Krutters just for the secret decoder ring inside.”
“I got you.”
“How about you?”
Kasper looked away. “Police. Narcotics division.”
“So you’re the man to ask about the junkie that’s been sleeping on my porch?”
“Not for the coming week, anyway.”
“What happened?”
“Suspended.”
“Sleeping on the job?”
“More like not being on the job at all.”
“I’ve had some troubles with that in the past,” the stranger replied.
“There’s, ah,” Kasper started, unsure how to formulate what he was thinking. “Sometimes it feels like I’m two people, you know? But two people who can’t exist at the same time. There’s the me that wants to have a stable job, have a family, have a normal life. Then there’s another me, and he…”
“Heh, I know exactly what’s that like,” the man said with a smile. “All I can tell you is that you’ve got to get your priorities straight. Figure out what really matters.”
“Easier said than done.”
“Tell me about it,” the man laughed. “But, you know, someone very important to me once taught me, something. With great power, comes great responsibility.”
“Sounds deep.”
“Think about it.”
“I will. Thanks…” Kasper said as he extended his hand.
“Peter,” the man responded as the two shook hands.
“Kasper.”
“Good to meet you, Kasper.”
“Good to meet you too, Peter.”

Good to meet you too.

Electro UK

01-09-2009, 04:45 PM

That was a really heart warming post to read Harl, reminds me of my favorite Spider-man issue of all time. :up:

Harlekin

01-09-2009, 05:24 PM

Thanks UK. What issue is that?

Electro UK

01-10-2009, 06:11 AM

Tangled Web 8 "Ray of Light".

Electro and Spidey wreck the house of these 2 kids, and then gives over his rent money to them, but knows it won't make everything better. If you can find it give it a read, its utterly fantastic.

Mercy

01-10-2009, 06:27 AM

This sounds FANTASTIC :D

Blacklight

01-10-2009, 05:25 PM

*subscribes*

Gallagher

01-10-2009, 05:34 PM

Hmm, interesting idea.

Byrd Man

01-10-2009, 05:58 PM

I might try a hard-boiled dective story I've always wanted to do in the RPGs.

Gallagher

01-10-2009, 05:59 PM

A story based around Techno Viking would please me greatly.

Blacklight

01-10-2009, 06:24 PM

Okay, after I'm done catching up on some posts, I'm going to start on two short-ish fanfics in this thread: one that stars almost all my RPG characters from the present and a few from the past...

SECRET CRISIS WARS ON INFINITE RPGS...

starring:

BLACKLIGHT
BLUE BEETLE
STATIC
HAL JORDAN
HUNTRESS
BLACK PANTHER
SPIDER-MAN
ICEMAN
HUMAN TORCH
KITTY PRYDE
SUPERMAN
KYLE RAYNER
IRON MAN
SPAWN
and more...

and another featuring two heroes that I have yet to play but really want to teaming up to take down two of their greatest enemies:

THE FLASH/CAPTAIN AMERICA: MAXIMUM VELOCITY

starring:
BARRY ALLEN as THE FLASH
STEVE ROGERS as CAPTAIN AMERICA
CROSSBONES
PROFESSOR ZOOM
THE RED SKULL
IRIS WEST
BLACK WIDOW
and more...

I'm really excited. Thank you Electro UK for such an awesome idea for a thread. This is really gonna be fun.:woot::up:

Mercy

01-11-2009, 05:28 AM

I have plans for a What If? Gwen Stacy was alive :D

Mercy

01-14-2009, 01:56 PM

When does it start?

Gallagher

01-14-2009, 02:01 PM

Just post, s'what Harl did :up:

Electro UK

01-14-2009, 02:27 PM

Okay so finally got round to writing it. As I've said before this is something me and Soze have joked around about and yet taken oddly seriously for a while now. One thing I ask of you is just throw the question "How?" out of the window, and picture the entire scene in your head as I present to you...

Ring ring ring ring ring ring ring

"Faster Wade, faster! Move like you've never moved before!" Wade Wilson charges down the street, barging people out the way, and causing just about the usual amount of fuss. "Gottagogottagogottagogottago." it was the usual, nearly as daily event for Deadpool by now. He hadn't been to the little boys room (that's big boys room for me) when he'd left for the days activities of harrasing women, bullying children, and maybe making a little money through the odd mercenary job.

He burst into the local bar. "Outtathewayaman'sgottapeehereandlivesdependonitpeo plelet'sgomoveitmoviemoveit!" chraging through the bathroom door, he took stance at the urinal, and let flow. "AAAAHHHH, that's the stuff... oh wait gotta unzip my costume... AAAAAHHH... bit soggy now... nothing that won't dry off after walking around in public for about 10 minutes with a clear wet patch showing." urine still being produced in a consistently (and worryingly) heavy amount, Wade began to relax as the panic and urges finally began to leave him.

To celebrate his victory over his bowels, he started to hum a little. "Boo-ba-doo-ba-doop... boo-ba-doo-ba-doop." it was a slow, silent hum of a song at first, that he planned to evolve into a thunderous cheer when he emerged from the bathroom, proud of his achievement. The silence of the bathroom was only broken by the on-going fwooshing of Wade's leak and his calm relaxed voice. "Ring ring ring ring ring ring ring bananaphooone... ring ring ring ring ring ring ring--"

"Bananaphoooooone." plop! Deadpool sprung to attention, jerking his head round but being careful not to move his... well you get the picture. It was coming fromn the cubicle... accompanied by several more plops.

"I've got this feeling..."

"So appealing..."

"For us to"

"Get together and sing."

"Sing!" the two voices started to get more confident with each other as they began to sing in time.

"Ring ring ring ring ring ring ring banana phone
Ding dong ding dong ding dong ding donana phone"

"It grows in bunches, I've got my hunches,
It's the best! Beats the rest!
Cellular, modular, interactivodular!"

Suddenly, without a flush from the toilet, the door unlocked, and out came The Joker, with a swooping dance, joining hands with Deadpool as they continued to sing.

"Ring ring ring ring ring ring ring banana phone
Boop-boo-ba-doo-ba-doop!
Ping pong ping pong ping pong ping panana phone."

The two met eye to eye, and hugged each other, tears of joy streaming from their eyes.

"It's no baloney, it ain't a pony
My cellular bananular phoooooooooooooooooone!"

Both erupted into a laughter of relief on the other's shoulder, like a great weight had been lifted from their lives. Deadpool spoke up through the tears first, Joker clearly finding it too hard to talk. "My friend, its like I've known you all my life, whoever you are."

"And... you my friend." Joker replied, fighting back the tears of insanity "Must do your zipper up."

"Only if you pull your pants up."

Yes ladies and gentlemen, I think its safe to say that a beautiful and in some ways horrifying friendship started to bloom that fateful day in the back bathroom of a run down bar. Years later, the two would adopt, and form a child in their own twisted manner to pass on the mantle and tell tales of their great adventures. They named that child Jokerpool... also known as Electro UK. And that ladies and gentlemen, was their very first adventure.

Gallagher

01-14-2009, 04:39 PM

That was ****ing glorious.

Keyser Soze

01-14-2009, 04:47 PM

I just came a little.

Keyser Soze

01-19-2009, 02:55 PM

Night in Gotham City. The Joker has escaped from Arkham Asylum.

The rain was torrential, heaving down from the heavens and battering the city's Gothic structures and tortured souls. Through the midst of this storm, a lone figure walked on foot. He was in the outskirts of the city, having just made a sudden departure from the infamous asylum that stood on the city's edge. With his deathly white skin, he looked like a ghoul of the night. And perhaps that was a fitting description for The Joker.

He didn't seem to mind the wind and rain, even if it did seem ready to knock him off his feet at any moment. He staggered downhill, the tattered remains of his straightjacket billowing in the wind, his bare feet squishing onto the muddy ground under them, doggedly moving forward in the direction of the bright lights of Gotham. It was his playground, his perverted paradise. He couldn't wait to get back to it.

Suddenly, as if on a whim, The Joker tossed his head back skyward, thrust his arms out into the air, and began to sing.

"Just a small town girl,
Livin' in a loooooooonely world!
She took the midnight train going aaaaaaaaaaaanyyyyyyyywheeeeeeere!"

Batman

01-19-2009, 03:14 PM

Night in Gotham City. The Joker has escaped from Arkham Asylum.

He had received first word of the brutal escape from a police officer's lips, as the terrified man reported a surprise sighting of the clown from across Gotham City's infamous Park Row. From the sound of things, his dispatch wouldn't arrive for another few minutes and, unfortunately, that would be enough time for The Clown Prince of Crime to make his way to an escape. All hope was lost of bringing the criminal to justice.

That was, until a dark cloud flew past the officer's windshield, it's speed almost catching him off guard. Staring with widened-eyes, the officer watched as the cloud grew into a shape more reminiscent of a man. Or perhaps a monster. He honestly wasn't sure, between the howling wind and the pouring, almost blinding rain that fell from the heavens. All that he knew was that something was out there. Something that had heard his call for help, in bringing the madman in.

That "something" was The Joker's longtime enemy, a name almost synonymous with the very opposite of all that the criminal stood for. Whereas The Joker was usually associated with random killing and utter chaos, the figure that basked within the night skies above made claim to order and justice within a city that desperately needed it. He was The Dark Knight Detective, the crusader for justice that fought against the darkest evils that the city had to offer. He was The Batman.

And he had spotted his prey.

Leaping onto a nearby rooftop, Batman silently crept upon the city streets below, as his enemy began dancing around a nearby streetlamp's pole, singing something to himself in his usually jovial and cheerful manner. With a look of disgust painted across his cowled face, The Caped Crusader leapt into the night's rain, determined to bring his enemy down before he could even be given the chance to commit some unspeakable horror. Descending over The Joker like a cloud, Batman lashed out an arm and grabbed his grinning nemesis' own with force, as lightning struck in the background.

http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t302/BatmanRPG/batman4hm9.png

But as he hit the ground, Batman suddenly stopped, his enemy's lack of malice evidently apparent, as he continued humming a tune. The tune in question made Batman want to, uncharacteristically, dance. So he did. Tapping his foot in place, Batman grabbed The Joker even tighter, glaring with menace as his surprisingly well toned voice continued on with the tune...

"Just a city boy,", He sang, trying desperately to fight the urge. "Born and raised in South Detroit!"

Batman then pushed The Joker onto a nearby bench, before outstretching his hand, midway through a ballad.

"He took the midnight train going anyyywhere!"

Keyser Soze

01-19-2009, 03:30 PM

The Joker grabbed onto Batman's outstretched hand, and was pulled off the bench. Hand in hand, the two spun each other round and round, staring longingly into each other's eyes.

"A singer in a smokey room,
The smell of wine and cheap perfuuuuuuuuuume!
For a smile they can share the night,
It goes on and on and on and on..."

Gallagher

01-19-2009, 03:34 PM

Oh my god it's a ****ing musical.

I love you guys.

Byrd Man

01-19-2009, 03:35 PM

While the Joker and Batman sang hand in hand, a figure swings in from the shadows. His body finally comes into the light.

http://i210.photobucket.com/albums/bb232/byrdRPG/Nightwing/ASBR01b.jpg

"Strangers waiting...up and down the boulevard their shadows searching in the night!"

The Boy Wonder lands in between Batman and Joker on his knees.

"Street light people living just to find emotion. Hiding somewhere in the niggghhhttt!!!"

Batman

01-19-2009, 03:40 PM

Batman smiles as he twirls The Joker off, forcing The Clown Prince to spin across the street, before holding out his hands to The Boy Wonder. Robin takes them, and Batman spins once more, the Dynamic Duo going into a series of their own twirls.

"Workin' hard to get my fill,
Everybody wants a thrilllll!"

Robin leaps out of the way, as Batman spreads out his arms, his voice high and his head tilted towards the rainclouds above.

"Paying anything to roll the dice, just one. more. time!"

Keyser Soze

01-19-2009, 04:00 PM

Suddenly, a flash of light pierces through the darkness of the Gotham night. And standing there, amidst the singing threesome, is a woman, seemingly formed out of nowhere.

But this was no mere woman. This was Loki, the God of Mischief.

She had travelled far. From a different universe, a different plain of existence. Some great force had drawn her here, to this precise location, to this exact moment in time. Some great force that now compelled her to join in.

"Some will win, some will lose,
Some are born to siiiiiiiiiiiiing the bluuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuues!"

And then The Joker stepped back out of the shadows, joining hands with this strange new arrival.

"Oh the movie never ends,
It goes on and on and on and on..."

Electro UK

01-19-2009, 04:24 PM

"I'm just a poor boy, noboy loves me-- uh, I mean... Straaaaangers! Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaiting!" Deadpool, who had been curled in a ball to the side slowly rose up into an elegant swam position.

http://www.marvel.com/comics/onsale/covers/0502/deadpool_67.jpg

He elegantly dived over Joker and Loki's joint hands, spinning as he went, then landing in Electro's arms.

"Up and down the boulevard."

"Their shadows searching in the night."

Max set Deadpool down and the two began to twirl around each other, a magical mist disguising their footwork.

"Streetlight."

"People."

"Living just to find emotion."

Keyser Soze

01-19-2009, 04:29 PM

Suddenly, a white hand grabbed Deadpool by the shoulder, spinning him round. And now, the Merc With a Mouth found himself face to face with the Clown Prince of Crime himself, The Joker.

"Hiding,
Somewhere in the NIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII IIIIIIIIIIGHT!"

Electro UK

01-19-2009, 04:36 PM

Suddenly, the two began to back away from each other. "BAAA NOOOOOOOW, BA NOOOOOOOOOW" Both began to air guitar as they staggered backwards. "BA NA NA NA NA NA-NA NAAAAAAAAAAAAAA." as the Joker continuted to repeat the solo for the second time, Deadpool took his run, went down on his knees, leant back and slid through the Joker's leg.

"Don't stop."

"Believin'"

Batman

01-19-2009, 04:37 PM

Grabbing the hand of Loki, The Goddess of Mischief, Batman ran with her in tow, as both headed to the center of the street. They spun, once, as the doors to the buildings opposite swung open. And all at once, out came a cascade of escaped Arkham inmates, led by both Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy.

The inmates lined in place behind the costumed individuals, as Electro, Deadpool, Robin, Loki, The Joker, Harley, Ivy, and Batman lined infront, joining hands as they screamed the ballad at the top of their lungs.

"HOLD ON TO THAT-" "-FEELIN'!"

Keyser Soze

01-19-2009, 04:42 PM

The Joker pointed at the lightpost that illuminated this grimy Gotham street.

"STREETLIGHT!"

Then he pointed at the assemblage of heroes and villains dancing in it.

"PEOPLE! OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!"

Electro UK

01-19-2009, 04:47 PM

The assorted group formed a corridor of people, Deadpool in the middle, they started to clap and stamp in tune, swaying from side to side as Deadpool jazz handed his way down the isle. "Don't stop."

"Belieeeeeevein." Max followed with a moon walk, pushing his head down and meeting Deadpool at the end. "HOOOLD OOOOOOHHHOOOOHHHOOONNN"

Blacklight

01-19-2009, 04:53 PM

Just after Electro and Deadpool finished their line, the Man of Steel had descended upon them after hearing what had been going on with his super hearing...

"STREETLIGHTS, PEOPLE!!!!!!!"

Keyser Soze

01-19-2009, 04:58 PM

"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!"

Carrying on from Superman, The Joker stepped forward from the crowd. Out of nowhere, a spotlight shone down on him as he entered his closing solo.

"DON'T STOP.... BELIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEVIN'!
HOLD ONTO THAT FEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELING!
STREETLIGHT..."

The Joker was cut off by a sai flying through the air, and sticking into the ground right in front of his feet. Out of nowhere (presumably from the same place as the spotlight) a funky 80s beat began to play, as Bullseye swaggered out of the shadows to confront the assembled group.

"Oooh! Uh!
It's close to MIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIDNIGHT-ta!
And somethin' evil's a-lurkin' in the dark!"

Byrd Man

01-19-2009, 05:04 PM

The Joker was cut off by a sai flying through the air, and sticking into the ground right in front of his feet. Out of nowhere (presumably from the same place as the spotlight) a funky 80s beat began to play, as Bullseye swaggered out of the shadows to confront the assembled group.

"Oooh! Uh!
It's close to MIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIDNIGHT-ta!
And somethin' evil's a-lurkin' in the dark!"

Robin leaps over Superman, Batman and Joker. He lands in front of Bullseye and starts snapping his fingers while he approaches the assassin.

"Under the moonlight, you see a sight that almost stops your heart
You try to scream but terror takes the sound before you make it
You start to freeze as horror looks you right between the eyes
You're paralyzed."

Keyser Soze

01-19-2009, 05:09 PM

Bullseye's mouth opens in shock as he grabs his chest with fright. He's paralysed!

Meanwhile, Harvey Dent is walking home after a busy day working at the District Attorney's office. That blasted rain has died down, so he figures now would be the best time to make a run for it...

And he comes across the... single strangest sight he's ever encountered in his life. There is only one thing he can say.

"Uh!
You hear the doooooooooooooor slam!"

He stomps his foot to create a slamming effect.

"And re-al-ise there's nowhere left to run!"

Blacklight

01-19-2009, 05:18 PM

As Harvey Dent continued to dance and sing, a white clad figure witha cape and hood, known to some as the Moon Knight, could be seen doing the moon walk...

Then as Harvey stopped, Tony Stark, the armored avenger himself came up next to Dent, sporting his Iron Man suit, and danced side by side with him, singing the next verse with a robotic monotone...

"You feel a cold hand... and wonder if you'll ever see the sun..."

SuperFerret

01-19-2009, 05:23 PM

Standing on a rooftop, watching invisibly J'onn J'onzz, the Martian Manhunter smiles. "There's no fun in being the world's most powerful psychic if you can't make people act like fools once in a while, right?"

Electro UK

01-19-2009, 05:24 PM

Byrd Man

01-19-2009, 05:37 PM

Deadpool, who had now removed his costume and stood solely in his underwear to get the feel for the song was hoisted up by Electro, and hung upside down, letting his arms hang as if he were a corpse as Max moved him from side to side, electricity sparking from his eyes.

"You close your eyes and hope that this is just imagination
Girl, But all the while you hear a creature creepin' up behind
You're out of time."

The Boy Wonder slides underneath Deadpool's legs, grabs hold of Moon Knight's hands as the vigilante swings the sidekick into the air.

Whilst in the air, he preforms a triple axle with the grace of a figure skater and lands on his feet, belting out...

"'Cause this is thriller, thriller night
There ain't no second chance against the thing with forty eyes, girl
Thriller, thriller night
You're fighting for your life inside a killer, thriller tonight!"

Blacklight

01-19-2009, 06:09 PM

As if on cue, the Ultimate Universe versions of Iceman and the Human Torch came into it, doing their own numbers...

"Night creatures call... and the dead start to walk in their masquerade..."

"There's no escaping... the jaws of the alien this time... They're open wide!!"

"This is the end of your life!"

Then along with them, the Ultimate Universe counterpart of Spider-Man swung down in front of all of them...

"They're out to get you! There's demons closing in on every side..."

"They will possess you... unless you change the number on your dial..."

"Now is the time! For you and I to cuddle close together..."

"All through the night... I'll save you from the terrors on the screen! I'LL MAKE YOU SEEEEE!!!"

Batman

01-19-2009, 07:14 PM

In the darkness of night, he rises from the shadows. His breathing cold, his mind distant. His footsteps echo throughout the streets of Gotham City, as everyone who sings and dances gives a sudden silent pause. His footsteps grow closer and closer, as he drifts through the fog surrounding them, until finally, the fedora on his head become visible. Out he walks, silent as ever, not paying any mind to those around him. Inkblots on a blank face, switching their place with every step, forming a new pattern formation.

He lives and dies by their formations. The formations of life.

He is Rorschach.

Pausing himself, the figure turns, his cold gaze unseen underneath the mask that covers his whole face, as he looks upon the assortment of stilled and quieted heroes and villains. He looks at them like retarded children, acting as one singular force of injustice.

And then, he walks forth, in a monotoned voice echoing throughout the mask, as his words trail off, living each individual cold and shaken.

http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t302/DCMarvelRPG/Supporting%20Characters/Rorschach/wrath2xb8.png

"Darkness falls across the land.", He begins. "The midnight hour is close at hand."

Rorschach looks over at Loki and Superman, his head turning only slightly to the Gods among him. "Creatures crawl in search of blood. To terrorize yawls neighborhood."

He continues on, seeing the children of the group. Well, one child, the other child minded. Robin and Deadpool. "And whosoever shall be found, wthout the soul for getting down, must stand and face the hounds of hell, and rot inside a corpse's shell."

Next, Rorschach stops, and stands face to face with the darker beings. The ones he feels most comfortable amongst. Batman and Moon Knight. "The foulest stench is in the air, the funk of forty thousand years."

He looks back, only briefly acknowledging the evil spirits within The Joker, Electro, and Bullseye. But his threat is clear. "And grizzy ghouls from every tomb are closing in to seal your doom, and though you fight to stay alive... your body starts to shiver."

Having met every one of the costumed freaks, He dwells back into the shadows, content and ever as distant as before. "For no mere mortal can resist..."

The inkblots form into a final pattern, as he's enveloped into darkness.

http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t302/DCMarvelRPG/Supporting%20Characters/Rorschach/Wrath-8.jpg

"The evil of the thriller."

Keyser Soze

01-19-2009, 07:23 PM

Suddenly, Green Lantern plummets to the ground from above, unconscious. The heroes and villains look skyward, and see a horrifying sight.

Black Lanterns. The dead risen from their graves.

Over a dozen of them land amongst the group, surrounding them. A group begin to close in on Loki and Harvey Dent. Frightened, Loki grabs Dent by the arm and turns him around, only to discover....

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

He is now Two-Face!

Two-Face's neck twitches violently, in tune with the funky 80s beat playing in the background. Then, Two-Face leads the Black Lanterns in a lengthy, elaborate dance routine.

<object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/un3-Hb9wF9s&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/un3-Hb9wF9s&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>

The heroes and villains watch enthralled, until finally the Black Lanterns shuffle off, and only Two-Face remains to belt out.

"Cause this is THRILLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEER!
THRILLER NIGHT!
And no one's gonna save ya from the beast about to strike!"

Batman

01-19-2009, 07:27 PM

Doctor Doom levitates into the sky, basked in magical rays of power, causing even the embers of trees falling upon his might. He looks down upon the streets of Gotham City, seeing such ridiculous chant and idiotic movement. Doom could never possibly engage in such acts that were beneath him.

But, what he could do was show them all how it's done...

"'Cause this is THRILLLLLLLLLLER!"

All the heroes look up, and watch in awe, as Doctor Doom lands in the center of their dance, his rocketpack bursting with the glow of fire as he touches ground. Holding out a metallic hand, he points to Batman, his eyes engaging... as if inviting.

The Dark Knight leaps in, joining Doom. "Thriller night!"

Byrd Man

01-21-2009, 03:52 PM

So. Here's a fanfic idea I've had.

I like the show The Office, and I like the RPGs.

A combination of the two?!

The Basement
Episode 1: Moving Day
Part I

In a conference room, people gather around and chatter while a skinny man in glasses with a Batman tie tries to clear his throat.

Bruce: Ahem...excuse me. I'm trying to talk here

Byrd: Go **** yourself.

Bruce: Oh...okay....no, it's not okay...CAN I HAVE EVERYONE'S ATTENTION?

The room starts to quiet down and Bruce smiles as he adjusts his tie.

Bruce: There we go. Now, many of you may have heard that we are getting our own office building. Apparently, the higher ups here at the SHH company don't like us here.

Wieg: I heard they want to get rid of us.

Bruce: That's just jargon. I mean, words like "nerds" or "losers" or even "worthless" are just technical terms. Now, we move in tomorrow morning to our own building! Come on, get excited!

Two people clap lightly.

Bruce: Yeah! That's the spirit! Now, before we move in, we have to decide something. The office will be divided up into three divisions. Marvel, DC, and Miscellaneous. Each section will have their own supervisor, and a moderator will be above them.

Twy: *pounces* You said mod?

Bruce: Yes, I did. Some of the admins will be here this afternoon to announce who they'll choose to take the reins.

Twy: 0_0 you said the admins?

Bruce: Yes....why are you making those weird faces?

Twy: ^_^ just following trusty's lead!

Trusty: 0_________0 What?

Bruce: Anyways, like I said. They'll be here this afternoon. Now, I want you all to be on your best behavior. And you know what that means.

Soze: No child homicide?

Bruce: Yes...at least for today.

Trusty: I have a question >.>

Bruce: What?

Trusty: You said the admins will decide who the mod will be, right?

Bruce: Yes

Trusty: And that they'll be here today, right?

Bruce: Yes

Trusty: And that they'll decide who the new mod will be?

Bruce:......yes

Trusty: And they'll be here to-

Bruce: Oh for the love of god shut up!

Trusty: 0________0

Bruce: That's it for today's meeting. Now, please...for the love of god....behave today.

Gallagher

01-21-2009, 03:58 PM

Moar!

Catman_prb

01-21-2009, 04:08 PM

I approve thoroughly.

wiegeabo

01-21-2009, 04:19 PM

I smell hijinks in the making!

Byrd Man

01-21-2009, 05:07 PM

The Basement
Episode 1: Moving Day
Part II

Marvel

UK: Weehh!! Look at me! I'm in Byrd's fanfic, I'm so ****ing badass!

Spidey9X17: UK, you okay dude?

UK: I'm awesome! And kick ass with my 4th wall breaking superpowers!

Spidey9X17: Umm, okay. I have some Hawkeye stuff I need to do, I was thinking of having him meet up with the X-men...have you seen Gallagher?

Gallagher: I'm right here, sweetheart!

Spidey9X17:....I don't feel real comfortable with that.

Gallagher: I'm British. We're allowed to be a little strange!

Spidey9X17: As long as you're not coming on to me...I'm not into that.

Gallagher: Me either! I'm as straight as an arrow, dear.

Spidey9X17: Okay, well the question I had about the X-Men

Gallagher: Hold on a sec, sweet pea. Hey, Catman!

Gallagher grabs Catman and begins making out with the burrly man.

UK: Woah! Check that **** out!

Watchman: *hic* get a-...get a room you two!

UK: Dude you're ****-faced!

Watchman: *hic* I'm in character! I have to write a good Iron- Iron- Iron...whatever the **** his name is.

UK: So you're a method writer?

Watchman: Yeah, sure *hic* Oh, god! Blaahh!!!

Watchman pukes on UK's shoes

UK: Dude! Not on my Hello Kitty flip-flops! Oh, who'll put me in a fanfic now that I have a case of puke feet?!

DC

Trusty: Who wants to do an arc with Aquaman?!

Trusty: Anyone?......Anybody at all? Anyone?!....Anybody?!

Byrd: I swear to god if you don't shut up I will-

Soze: Byrd, please. No need for harsh language....allow me.

Soze walks up to trusty and softly whispers in his ear.

Trusty:..........

Trusty burts into tears and slumps on his desk.

Soze: That's how you do it.

Byrd: You scare me sometimes.

Soze: What can I say, it's a talent....has anyone seen Johnny Blaze?

Outside

Johnny Blaze, Venom160, and Feature stand around in a circle...hard at work.

JB: Toke! Toke! Toke! Toke!

Venom takes a toke off a joint and starts to cough.

V160: That's some good ****!

JB: Pass that ****, don't be Bogarting the weed. Need to take it easy, anyways. You know how weed makes you trip out.

V160: Pssh, whatever.

Fire: Excuse me.

Feature: Yo, you wanna get in on this ****?

The three men turn around to see Immortalfire, Dog Lips, and Hunter Rider standing behind them.

Lips: Hi. We're here for the inspection.

V160: ****, son it's the fuzz run for ya lives!

V160 takes off down the street while the two remaining men stare at the admins in fear.

Feature: What are we doing?

JB: Be quiet...I think their eye sight is based on movement.

wiegeabo

01-21-2009, 05:10 PM

This has now become the best thread ever.

Gallagher

01-21-2009, 05:13 PM

Your portrayal of me is spot on.

It just needs more...

Gay.

Electro UK

01-21-2009, 05:24 PM

Hey! I don't talk in red, that's what Deadpool does!

Waitaminute...

What the hell have you done to me!?

wiegeabo

01-21-2009, 05:51 PM

Hey! I don't talk in red, that's what Deadpool does!

Waitaminute...

What the hell have you done to me!?

And Byrd destroys another life.

SuperFerret

01-21-2009, 09:13 PM

And Byrd destroys another life.

What's his high score so far?

Batman

01-21-2009, 09:18 PM

I don't know. But I'm sure by tommorow, it'll be a hell of alot higher.

Matt Murdock

01-21-2009, 09:32 PM

The following takes place between 6 AM and 7 AM.

Washington D.C. is the center of the United States government. While state and local branches of the American political system oversee governmental affairs at a basic, local level, the epicenter of political activity is in the nation's capitol. All three branches of the government are centered in a relatively small geographical region. Both houses of Congress, the White House, and the Supreme Court all sit within a ten-mile radius of one another.

Nine years ago, a ship floating in Lincoln Harbor was found with the crew deceased, murdered. Federal investigative agencies were on scene relatively quickly. One such agency was the now-disbanded CTU, or Counter Terrorist Unit. Investigations yielded leads that indicated that the organization Ansar al-Islam was responsible for the attack on the vessel. The terrorist organization, relatively poorly funded and organized, agencies claimed, would be unable to plan and execute such an elaborate an sophisticated attack. The ship's cargo manifest indicated that a substantial shipment of the ingestable toxin Ricin was on board the vessel, but, at the conclusion of the preliminary investigation, the ricin could not be found. CTU and it's collaborating agencies deemed the ricin as the target of the attack. The lead CTU field agent, Agent Jack Bauer, spearheaded the investigation into the missing Ricin shipment. Preliminary intelligence suggested that, should the entire shipment find it's way into the water supply, natural gas supply, or general population, casualties could rank in the hundreds of thousands.

After tireless hours of work, Bauer and his teammates at CTU discovered a connection between the terrorist organization Ansar al-Islam and a prominent figure in then-President Harold F. Barnes administration. Barnes' Secretary of Defense, Bruce Newton, was found to be in possession of several recorded phone conversations with the leader of the American-based cell of Ansar al-Islam, plotting the retrival of the ricin. Staging a meeting between the President and Newton, Bauer was able to meet the two in private, in a seculded portion of the East Wing of the White House. Once locked in the room alone with the President and Newton, Bauer proceeded to knock the President unconscious with a direct blow to the back of the neck. It is believed that Bauer then began to interrogate and extract information from Newton. The secret service, unaware of the President's meeting with Newton and Bauer, were in a panic and soon made their way to the room, but, upon arrival, found Bauer missing. He presumably escaped from a window which seemed to have been smashed open with an ornament from the President's personal desk. He eluded capture and returned to CTU where he was debriefed, but not placed under arrest due to the legal defense of "necessity," which explains that if a person's lawfulness will cause more harm than his inaction, he may break the law.

After an extensive physical examination, Newton was found to be in severe condition. The tip of the middle finger on his right hand appeared to have been sliced off with a very fine razor blade or knife. There were lacerations along the backs of his ankles, calves, and the undersides of his thigh. Contusions around his throat indicated that he had been strangled with a wire from a lamp, a method Bauer would use later on his brother, Graem. Four bones in Newton's arm had been broken, along with two ribs. The nail on his right thumb had been heaved out of the flesh, causing maximum pain and minimal blood loss. Newton had been shot once through the leg, just above the kneecap, an inury which has confined him to walking with both a cane and a knee-brace. He later admitted to taking part in the ricin conspiracy, claiming that he was planning to use the weapon against the terrorists to incite a breach in the cell's command structure, resulting in the collapse of the organization from within.

The conclusion in the day's events resulted in Newton's resignation and he successful recovery of the ricin. Bauer and his team at CTU L.A. and the FBI are largely credited with recovering the information necessary to the locating of the ricin.

"Does that sound like an accurate recolection of the day in question, Mr. Bauer?"

Jack Bauer now sits across from a panel of Congressmen, the subject of a Senatorial hearing regarding interogation methods used by the former agency CTU. His responses to the questions asked of him could prove to save his freedom, or condemn him to life imprisonment.

6:22:31
6:22:32
6:22:33
6:22:34

"Yes, sir."

"Do you have anything to add?"

"They tell you how easy it's going to be. They sit you down in a metal chair and they strap you to countless machines, polygraphs, and vital monitors and sit there and tell you not to worry, not to listen to your gut, to ignore every modicum of humanity you have coursing through your veins. They tell you that once you take your first life, taking another one won't seem so bad. They veil their motives in good intentions. Hopes, dreams, promises of a better America. They deny the fact that the America they claim to so desperately protecting and creating died decades ago. There's nothing left of it. The nation, the government, is nothing more than a distorted echo of what it used to be... what it could be... what it damned well ought to be. Bureaucrats and politicians thrust their fingers in my face. They shake their heads in disgust when they hear about the things that I've done. They want apologies, they want excuses, but what they refuse to admit to themselves is that, while they want to save the constitution and the government, they want results more."

"I get those results. And if you expect me to apologize for it once, you're wrong. I've served my country with honor, sir. I've served it well, and I've served it with pride. The people of this nation don't owe me a single thing, but I'd like to think that I've at least earned your respect. I've been shot, stabbed, tortured, and interrogated. All in the name of the flag that's sitting behind you, all in the name of what this country stands for and, more importantly, what it should stand for."

"Surely, sir, you don't mean to come after us."

"Oh, but I do. As years have passed, the government of this country has grown more and more compromised and, senator, what you seem to fail to realize is that the people of the nation are paying the price. The people who I care about most have been alienated from me, some worse than that, all because I've been loyal to the government agencies and task forces I've been asked to serve. I serve the people of the United States of America, not corrupt politicians who bring chemical weapons into my country under the guise of patriotism."

"You feel no remorse for your actions?"

"Senator, Mr. Newton actively attempted to subvert the President's authority in a matter of both foreign and domestic policy. That behavior is tantamount to a coup d'etat."

"Yes, Mr. Bauer, but who are you to balance Mr. Newton's intentions with the results they caused? What gives you the right to coerse information from him?"

http://i164.photobucket.com/albums/u22/eMagiUK/JackBauer24Day7.jpg

"Senator, I've learned that sometimes intentions aren't good enough. On that day, I was faced with a decision that could have cost thousands of people their lives if I failed to act. With all due respect to Mr. Newton, he had the title of Secretary of Defense, a title which he failed to live up to. He put the lives of thousands of Americans in peril and, with all due respect to his kneecap, and civil liberties, and the law itself, those lives needed to be saved. If you're looking for an apology, Senator, I'm afraid that you've come to the wrong place. Because, frankly, I'm not sorry."

"Very well, Mr. Bauer. You shall see your day in court and a jury will decide your fate. Bailiff, take Mr. Bauer into custody and take him to a holding cell where he can await him arraignment."

6:59:56
6:59:57
6:59:58
6:59:59
7:00:00

Blacklight

01-21-2009, 09:52 PM

You know that post would fit perfectly in the From the Pages Of IC Thread.:up:

wiegeabo

01-21-2009, 10:02 PM

Seconded.

NiteMare Shape

01-21-2009, 10:03 PM

yup

wiegeabo

01-21-2009, 10:07 PM

Oh god, the thought of Jack Bauer working with Chuck...

*goes to change pants*

NiteMare Shape

01-21-2009, 10:09 PM

lol. That would be kinda sick.

wiegeabo

01-21-2009, 10:11 PM

I think Casey would have found a new best friend.

NiteMare Shape

01-21-2009, 10:20 PM

yeah.

Oh crap...I have a character in that game..I should probably get a Spike post up soon.....

Optikal

01-22-2009, 07:52 AM

Shiro Yoshida, the man better known to the world as the mutant Sunfire was walking down the street. Under his arm he held his newest costume, fresh from Spandex 'R' Us. As he contemplated how good it would be to do super-hero stuff without the crotch of his suit riding up, he noticed the sky going dark.

From nowhere, The Hulk fell from the heavens and landed directly on top of the Japanese Fire-mutant. Hulk rises to his feet and feels a strange tingling in his rectum. With a mighty roar and an effective squeeze the Jade Giant unleashed an angry flame propelled fart, levelling the lower east-side in one blast.

"Heh heh heh. Now THAT was a spicy meatball!" He proclaims.

Electro UK

01-22-2009, 08:02 AM

I'd like to point out that this masterwork originated from me mistaking Optikal saying "I might drop Hulk for Sunfire.", thinking he said "I might drop Hulk on Sunfire." thus, magic was born.

Optikal

01-22-2009, 08:16 AM

Yeah, stop trying to steal my thunder, ******-tits!

Electro UK

01-22-2009, 08:32 AM

I'm not, I just wanted people to know the context of the joke. Besides, I told you to put it in here!

Optikal

01-22-2009, 10:18 AM

I'm not, I just wanted people to know the context of the joke. Besides, I told you to put it in here!

Yeah, that's what yo' momma said! :o

Mercy

01-22-2009, 10:32 AM

Yo Momma Cuss?

Matt Murdock

01-22-2009, 07:01 PM

Two months ago.

Have you ever gotten that feeling in the pit of your stomach?

THWIP!

Peter Parker smiles to himself beneath his Spider-Man mask. It's a good day to be him. New duds, new outlook, new attitude. And, finally, he had been getting some good press. The publisher of the Daily Bugle? J. Jonah Jameson had been giving Spider-Man a bit of a boost, since the 'Webbed Wonder' had taken a harder stance on crime. Reports were coming in from police blotters across the city about criminals found in cocoons of deep-black webbing with severely broken bones, choked half to death. Spider-Man himself was openly and notoriously taking credit for them, as a "Not-So-Friendly-Neighborhood" Spider-Man policy.

You know the one. The kind where you say to yourself 'man... this is like making out with a grenade' or 'shoot, I might as well go home and stick my fork in the toaster.' You know that feeling? Me too.

"He was so damned fast. I'll admit, I've done some bad things in my life, I have. I've stolen, I've robbed. And that night, all I was doing was a mugging. Don't get me wrong, I know it's a bad thing to do, and I know I shouldn'ta done it... but Frankie? He killed Frankie."

Those are the words are Mr. Thomas H. Huntman, a man recently attacked by Spider-Man, or, rather, a man in a black costume with a spider insignia upon his chest, who swung into a mugging-in-progress, and broke the legs of one of the men, and allegedly pulverized the other so brutally he bled to death twenty-two minutes later.

Spider-Man snarled behind his mask and hurled the newspaper to the ground. Ben Urich had been working for the Bugle for years, always on Spider-Man's side, supporting him, standing up to J. Jonah Jameson, even, on behalf of the costumed hero.

Now, though, after Spider-Man had donned his black and white costume and actually started taking criminals out, for good, Urich had been the hero's harshest critic.

Enough was enough.

THWIP!

Spider-Man swung hard btween the buildings that lined New York's streets. It wasn't much farther to the Daily Bugle.

Well, I've got that feeling right now in my stomach.

Spider-Man stuck to the glass outside of Urich's office, watching the reporter type away at his laptop, speaking into a tape recorder.

The one screaming at me to stop. To get off the bandwagon, pull the 'emergency brake' cable. But I can't.

"And, after further review, it seemed that the bodega had been robbed by a group of masked assa--"

"Hiya, Benjy-boy."

Well, more accurately... I won't.

Urich spun around and glared at Spider-Man.

"Spider-Man." His voice was calm, collected. As if he had expected to see the vigilante at some point. "Didn't figure you'd make such a... personal... visit."

"C'mon, now." Spider-Man muttered as he crawled through the open window and into the room. "You've been smearing me in the press for a few weeks. Had to figure I'd say something eventually."

"Sure I did."

"How do you see this playing out, then?" Spider-Man asked, perching himself on a wall, leaning forward over his knees.

"I'm not really sure." Urich said, half-confident, half-terrified. His heart was throbbing inside his chest as he took off his glasses and looked at Spider-Man. "You plan on beating the **** out of me?"

Spider-Man felt himself grin. He couldn't help it. Urich was being far too coy for his own good.

Seriously. This was a bad idea. Coming here. Awful, terrible choice.

"Look, Urich... I know you're a good guy. You know what I'm doing out there is right."

"Do I?" Urich snarled, his sarcastic attitude gone now. He leaned forward in the chair, glaring at Spider-Man. "I'm not sure that I think you beating a guy to death is right, Spider-Man."

"I didn't do that on purpose, Urich."

"Oh, so when he was screaming for you to stop, you didn't think that that was a good time to draw the line?"

Spider-Man was silent.

"Doctors said some of the bruises he had were made after he was unconscious. Care to explain that?"

"It's not like he was a bishop, or a teacher, or a big family-man. He was a mugger, a thug, scum."

"So you get to chose who lives and who dies?"

"It's my responsiblity." Spider-Man snarled. "You'd rather leave those decisions to--"

"Judges and juries?" Urich asked. "Yeah."

The two stared at each other for a moment before Urich muttered under his breath, "anyone, anyone but you."

"What was that?" Spider-Man snarled, his ego taking a hit.

"Oh, please." The reported said snidely. "Whatever good you've done, whatever hope you've inspired people... all that's been wasted."

Spider-Man slowly let himself fall to the floor, looming over Ben Urich.

"Wasted?"

"You wanna preach to me about responsiblity? You beat a guy to death. You took another man's life."

"It was an acc--" Spider-Man began before Urich rose to his feet and snarled at him

"You think I care if it was an 'accident?' You think that guy's family cares? You think they give a damn about whether or not you wanted to hurt him? Let me tell you something, kid, 'cause you clearly haven't learned it on your own. Nobody gives a damn about what you wanted. What you did is what people care about, and that's what people remember."

The entire scene reminded Peter of the night his Uncle Ben was murded. That hollow void he'd been so careful to protect and shelter since that night suddenly lurched upwards into his gut as he stood listening to Ben Urich, the black suit covering his expression.

Like anyone who's remember something painful, or being told things he doesn't want to hear, Peter didn't understand or rationalize Urich's remarks, he got angry. And that anger... it was a bomb, simply waiting for something to light the fuse.

"Responsibility?" Urich admonished, shaking his head as if he were looking down upon a spoiled child. "You wouldn't know the first thing about it."

Boom.

"How dare you?" Spider-Man said, taking a step forward. "How DARE you?!"

His hands wrapped themselves easily around Urich's collar, and the man was lighter to hoist into the air than he looked. Urich stared down at Spider-Man, mouth agape, not sure whether or not he ought to call for help, to cry out for someone.

"I know more about responsibility than anyone like you could so much as understand!" The words practically threw themselves out of Spider-Man's mouth as he shook his former friend in the air. He thrust the reporter forward, into a panel of glass and heard a soft crack as the window spider-webbed.

"Something about you, Urich... Something about you has got me really bugged." Spider-Man hissed before noting quietly, "Heh. Spider-Man. Bugged. I made a funny."

Spider-Man put the smallest amount of presure onto Urich's chest and the glass began to give, close to shattering.

"What're you gonna do, Spider-Man?" Urich stammered. "Drop me? Go ahead."

Then, with a little more conviction, he added, "He-ro."

The vein in Peter Parker's neck was throbbing, but Urich was right. He didn't want to drop him out of a window... Spider-Man wanted to pummel him.

Spider-Man let go of the journalist and watched him slump to the floor. For a moment, he contemplated leaving, letting the situation go. He couldn't, though. Something in his gut was egging him on, driving him forward. The first punch was easy to throw, it didn't do much damage since it hit Urich in the chest. The second hit in him the cheek, the third his shoulder. Spider-Man lost count once he reached double digits.

He stopped for a moment, panting. Urich was barely gurgling, but he was alive.

Spider-Man had come to say what he needed to. An edict about printing anymore stories wasn't needed.

Peter swung home quickly, trying to convince himself that he hadn't punched Ben Urich, a man he'd known since he was a lowly intern at the Daily Bugle. A paper-runner, coffee-getter. A superhero hell-bent on making the world a better place with his idealism and faith in human nature.

But the world had changed.

Before he knew it, Peter found himself atop a gargoyle on the Empire State Building, overlooking the whole city. He looked down at his chest and saw the white spider symbol that had grown to be synonymous with his name. Peter realized that it wasn't the worled that had changed... it was him.

Now.

People are murming in the streets. They've got hope again. A familiar symbol has made his way back to the city... back to their lives.

"My god!"

"Come quick!"

"No way!"

"It is him!"

http://i178.photobucket.com/albums/w259/SpideyRPG/SPIDER-MAN_SPECIAL_BLACK_AND_BLUE_A.jpg?t=1232659308

"Spider-Man is back!"

Sirens blare somwhere in the distance and Spider-Man swings into action. He blazes along rooftops, leaps over alleyways, and swings around lampposts, revitalized.

This is more like it! Peter Parker thinks to himself. My name is Spider-Man and I'm back, baby.

The sun sets over the New York skyline and clouds roll in, and a light drizzle starts in the city. An elderly man sits in a lawnchair perched outside of a convenience store on a city block, listening to a radio bulletin. Spider-Man swings hard over his head, almost a blur of red and blue.

"Damn!" He says, a smug and approving smile on his face. "'Bout time he came back."

A car swerves wrecklessly, with several police cars behind it, a few blocks ahead of Spider-Man. He smiles to himself behind his mask as he slams onto the trunk of the convertible.

"Pain in my ass, thy name is carjacker."

For a second, he feels the urge to leap forward and rip the driver out of the car by his skull, but he surpresses it and, instead, fires a ball of webbing at the thug's eyes. The driver, preoccupied with trying to regain his vision, heaves his hands away from the wheel. Spider-Man lurches forward, over the passenger compartment of the convertible and lands on the windshield. His fist slams easily through the glass windshield and he wraps his palm around the steering wheel.

"Let's see." He says aloud. "I'm backwards... which means left is..."

He turns the wheel to his left and the car barrels accross three lanes of traffic to the right. Traffic cones fly into the air and horns roar.

"Sorry!"

Spider-Man turns the wheel even farther to the left, and the car's back end nearly spun out of control. Spider-Man hears dozens of people cry out and glances over his shoulder, only to see that the car is careening towards an alleyway.

"Oh, dear." Spider-Man says simply. There wasn't much else he could muster up.

The car slams hard into the buildings that comprise the alleyway, and Spider-Man is hurled backwards into a brick wall, alongside the driver. Spider-Man blinks. He's half out of it, but conscious. The driver wasn't so lucky. He's alive, but clearly down for the count. For a split-second, an urge boils in the Webbed Wonder's stomach to break the guy's neck... to put him out of his misery. Spider-Man blinks several times, letting the feeling pass, and he finds that his hand has been clenched into his fist. Spider-Man webs him to the ground and brushes himself off. He's battered from going a couple rounds with a brick wall and a windshield. He finds a shard of glass lodged in his thigh.

"Aw, damn." He says, disappointed. He pulls it out and holds his hand down over the wound to stop the bleeding.

He examines himself further and finds anoher shard, burrowed deep into his left wrist. He sighs and takes a deep breath and clutches the dagger with his right hand. Slowly, but assuredly, he tugs on it slowly. Once it's disloged from his wrist, he expects to see blood gushing from the wound. Instead, a black substance rests quietly on the tip of the glass.

"No." Peter mutters to himself.

The surge of anger and pain in his stomach rears its head once more and Spider-Man falls to the ground, clutching his wrist as black liquid pours out of it, covering his red-and-blue costume.

"Agh..." He says to the empty alleyway as the darkness encompasses half of his gaze.

Behind his mask, Peter groans and scowls. As the suit wraps itself around him, pouring out of his eyes, mouth, nose, and fingertips, he feels a calm ebbing its way onto his subconscious. It's as if a great, warm force is telling him not to worry, that everything will be okay. It's telling him not to fight, not to be afraid, and not to panic. Slowly, as the blackness clutches every inch of his skin, the lips on Peter Parker's face curve into a smile, despite the writhing, shaking, and shuddering of his body.

My name is Peter Parker. And as much as I'd tried to convince myself I was back... that Spider-Man was back. Heh. I guess it just ain't in the cards. He thinks. ...because I'm already gone.

http://api.ning.com/files/16V9-sov5RH4DKRLk7GDcJDuY6bCv4pzDlcYRKh8vbs8uKK-25roH9hsBU4t5F2Tk5AQIX6YlPrTmqIviblo9KR-zXoDDEyT/59705symbiote_400.jpg

Byrd Man

01-22-2009, 08:53 PM

The Basement
Episode 1: Moving Day
Part III

Fire: So, this is the basement.

Fire, Dog Lips, and Hunter Ride walk through the front door

Bruce: Okay, so you're here. Welcome, welcome, welcome.

HR: So, Bruce...what is it that you actually do here...I've never been here before.

Dog Lips: Yeah, me neither.

Fire: I thought I was here once, but it turned out to be Florida instead. Who knew?

Bruce: Well, you see...what we do here is quite simple. We create stories based on comic book characters for the comics themselves to use. Each employees fills out their applications for which characters they'd like to write as, and they're approved by their Game Masters. Like, myself for instance. I currently write story-lines for Captain America in Marvel. If, in my story idea, I'd like for Cap to talk to Iron Man, well I need to hash things out with Watchman and we'd work on a story. Each story is then converted in to script form and sent off to their respective companies where their big name writers get the credit.

HR: Wait, so you people are responsible for the mess that Marvel's been in lately?!

Bruce: Heh...funny thing about that....you see, we started Civil War thinking it was going to be awesome, everyone was pumped for it...and then halfway through it we thought "the hell are we doing?" so we pumped out a ending really quick....oh, and the whole Brand New Day storyline was an accident...our Spider-Man writer was sorta ticked off at his wife so, in a fit of rage he wrote that storyline and sent it to Marvel without my approval.

Byrd: Won't happen again! Me and her solved our issues.

Bruce: Glad to see you worked it-

Byrd: Yeah, I "solved" the problem of her *****y attitude by "issuing" a swift kick in tha ass!

Fire: Well, Bruce...strike one.

**********

While Bruce hurries the admins away, Byrd turns to the receptionist, Shlee.

Byrd: Looks like we're gonna need you help.

Shlee: What do you need?

Byrd: When the time comes, you'll know.

*********

Bruce: Here in the DC section, we're pretty proud of our track record. We've been going strong with some of our top writers. Like this young man, GL.

Fire: Hi

GL: Your face

Dog Lips: Excuse me?

GL: Yeah excuse you!

HR: You're not making any sense

GL: You're not making any sense!

Fire: Seriously...are you like 12?

GL: I know who isn't 12, yo momma!

Bruce: Trusty, look here. Trusty is another fine writer. Isn't that right?

Trusty: ;(

HR:.....Strike two

***********

Bruce: While things in Marvel have been rocky lately, we're working hard on storylines to make them better.

Dog Lips: I have a question...who is the man running around in a speedo?

Bruce: Oh, mother of god....

UK: NO! Mother of UK! Who is in fact Jesus and Deadpool combined! Look, watch as I run around half naked and Gallagher chases me!

Gallagher: I'm gonna get ya!

Bruce: Catman! Please, say something to help me!

Catman:...seconded.

Dog Lips: That's it. We're pulling the plug. Give us one good reason why we don't shut this down and fire you all.

Byrd emerges from the shadows.

Byrd: I'll give you two.....WONDER TWIN POWERS ACTIVATE!

Shlee walks into the room, rolling her eyes. She lifts up her shirt at the admins.

Fire: .......

HR: ......

Dog Lips: .......

Bruce: ..........

Byrd: ........

UK: ........

Catman: .....

Gallagher: *yawn*

Shlee puts her shirt back down and leaves the room.

HR: Who-who's idea was it to hire her?

Bruce: I think I was the one who hired her.

Fire: Good luck in your new office building, Bruce. We're naming you the mod...oh, and can we take your receptionist home?

Bruce: I don't think she'd like that, sir...so we're good to go.

Dog Lips: You move in tomorrow. Good luck, with this bunch you'll need it.

UK: Wait! This doesn't make sense at all....why does Byrd get to emerge from the shadows all badass...goddammit, what do you expect with this ****** writing?

Fin

Gallagher

01-23-2009, 01:22 PM

Ah yes, female nudity.

I remeber what that was like...

Electro UK

01-26-2009, 05:43 AM

Peter Parker, I've loved both of your 2 posts in here. I think they've been excellent. :up:

trustyside-kick

01-26-2009, 09:54 AM

Hahahahahaha. Good stuff, byrd.

Electro UK

01-26-2009, 01:05 PM

Deadpool: Hello ladies and gentlemen, and welcome once again to another edition of “Inside the Mercenaries Studio”, the Oscar winning chat show in which myself, established interviewer and general awesome person take you on a discovery. It is a journey through the life and times of the incredible minds that bring you such fantastic posts that you read here in the many Hype RPGs. Today, we have someone that I myself am very close to. Some have called us non-biological brothers, others have said we are sleeping together. But do you want to know the real truth, viewers? He IS me. That’s right, he climbs into my mind and thinks “What would Deadpool do?”, which is why he’s banned from so many countries! Ladies, gentlemen… Electro UK!

Electro UK (Groggily): Mmm… uh… uhhmm… what’s… what’s happening? Where am I? Is this duct tape?

DP: The very finest duct tape sir! Walmart duct tape!

EUK: Oh I could tell, so smooth on my hands. Whenever I’m being captured, I do love the feeling of Walmart duct tape around my wrists.

DP: Yes, yes, in fact viewers I urge you to use Walmart for all your kidnapping needs! Now, where’s my endorsement money?

EUK: Last thing I remember… someone hit me round the head with a Croquet bat.

DP: Yeah uh… sorry about that, it’s all I had on me at the time.

EUK: Wait, how am I talking to you? Where is this place? What am I even doing here?

DP (taking a sip from Walmart mug): Electro, welcome to “The Mercenaries Studio”, where you’re being interviewd!

EUK: You know you could’ve just asked… This is really your studio? Its nowhere near as cool as I thought it’d be.

DP: Well how did you imagine it to be?

EUK: Like the Bat-Cave but with more guns and pictures of Bea Arthur.

DP: Well I can’t really have a cave. I’d have to call it the “Dead-Cave” and that would bring certain connotations with it.

EUK: Fair enough.

DP: But anyway, enough of this witty banter. We have to start the interview sometime otherwise we’ll get lost in all this talk.

EUK: Speaking of which, did you watch Lost last night?

DP: Yeah, well I’m you, of course I did.

EUK: Time travel?

DP: I know… don’t get me started. Hey! Stop distracting me! You know how easy it is.

EUK: And I’m not American, but I’m fairly sure TV shows can get Oscars.

DP: You want me to tape up your mouth with some of that warm, cosy Walmart duct tape?

EUK: Then how would you interview me?

DP: Smartass.

EUK: Better than being a dumbass.

DP: Is not!

EUK: Is too!

DP: MOM! Electro’s calling me a dumbass!!

Electro UK’s Mother (from upstairs): Electro, stop arguing with that imaginary illegitimate son of mine!

EUK: I can’t believe you told.

DP: Shut up, we’re getting on with this now. So, you started playing me in Season 3 of the Marvel RPG. What was it like taking on the role of such a complex, 3 dimensional and interesting character, while having to live up to the jokes of the comics and the RPer Priest in Season 1?

EUK: Well it was pretty tough I’ll admit. I remember showing my first post to Keyser Soze and praying he’d tell me it was funny. He told me it made him smile, so I thought “Gotta do better than this.” And set about trying to live up to the rep.

DP: Yeah, honestly dude, your first post? Not that good. Anyone can make jokes about Jean Grey’s boobs.

EUK: Yeah… unfortunately, not everyone can see them though.

DP: Damn Cyclops. Damn him to hell.

EUK: Well if we’re talking about hot women, then damn Spider-man too.

DP: Yeah, Mary-Jane is pretty swinging.

EUK: Mary-Jane? I was talking about Gwen.

DP: She’s dead.

EUK: So?

DP: I’m starting to see why you like playing as me… But why did you pick me up?

EUK: I think we’d just gotten into the 2 character rule. I had Electro all fine and dandy, I wanted a new challenge. I’d just started buying Cable and Deadpool

DP: (Available from all good comic book stores)

EUK: and for some strange reason, found you an intriguing character. I’d read about you before in Contest of Marvels 2, and figured “What the hey?”.

DP: And from there, the epic relationship has started to bloom. What were some of your favourite posts as me?

EUK: Well that’s hard to pick… I dunno I liked the one where you were drunk (even though it was quickly pointed out you can’t get drunk), or when you and Bullseye were at his apartment and the gay guy touched you up, the post where you began your long journey to find Hawkeye. Those are just a few. The Mr. Immortal fight this season was pretty good too.

DP: I wasn’t so keen on the gay one, seeing as it you know, happened to me. Now, perhaps the most important question of tonight, who would win in a fight? A bear, a tiger, or a gorilla?

EUK: Hmm well that’s a thinker…

DP: You still have your phone a friend.

EUK: I dunno, I’ve always been a fan of the bears. I think it’d gut the tiger first because of the threat of its agility, but then match the gorilla’s brute strength.

DP: Your reasoning is admirable, but I’m afraid that’s not the right answer.

EUK: Oh?

DP: No, the correct answer is D, me.

EUK: But you weren’t—

DP: D, me.

EUK:… okay fine.

EUK’s Mother: Boys! Dinner!

DP + EUK: Coming Mom!

DP: Looks like we’re going to have to round this off pretty soon otherwise Ma will get mad.

EUK: Yeah, and then Pa will bring the slipper.

DP:…

EUK:…

DP: Really… wow. I didn’t know he did that.

EUK: Yeah… its not really a joke. Especially when he’s been drinking.

DP: If you’ve been affected by these past 4 lines of dialogue, then please PM Electro UK and call him an inconsiderate bastard.

EUK’s Mother: BOYS!! DINNER!!

DP + EUK: OKAY MOM!!!

*Deadpool draws a gun* DP: Wow we really didn’t get many questions done. Now, my dear Electro, its time to die.

EUK: What? Why?

DP: We done the interview and I’m done with you. I’m finding a new player! I’m living for myself now man!

EUK: I can figure this out. I can figure this out. This is not for real. The gun is not even in your hand. The gun's in my hand.

*The gun disappears from Deadpool's hand and appears in Electro's.*

DP: Hey, good for you, it doesn't change a thing.

*Electro stares at the gun a long time... then brings the gun up, and puts it on his lower jaw.*

DP: Why do you want to put a gun in your head?

EUK: Not my head, Wade. Our head.

DP: Interesting. What are you going to do with this IKEA-boy? Hey, it's you and me… Friends?

EUK: Wade, I want you to really listen to me.

DP: Okay...

EUK: My eyes are open.

Their eyes are locked, unblinking. Long silence.

*Electro puts the gun in his mouth* KABLAM! *Electro’s cheek inflates with gas. His eyes bulge, blood files out from his head. The window behind him shatters. Smoke wafts out of his mouth and tear ducts.*

DP:… What’s that smell?

*Deadpool slumps to the floor dead. The room is silent for a few minutes until Deadpool gets up.

DP: Uch… ow. Wow you almost had me there… except you forgot about my healing factor. Nice try Electro… Electro? Ooooooh boy.

EUK’s Mother: BOYS! GET YOU BEHINDS IN HERE RIGHT NOW!

DP: How am I gonna explain this one?

Matt Murdock

03-01-2009, 07:42 PM

It was dark on the secluded suburban street. Houses with white-picket fences lined the road. American. Classic. Perfect. Outside one house, a green Subaru Outback was parked, windows up, engine off. Two men sat inside.

"How long ago did they finish dinner?" The one in the driver's seat asks.

He's well-built. Not thin or lean, per se, but strong. Hardly what could be considered overweight. A brown trenchcoat enveloped his frame, and a brown fedora was over his gaze slightly.

"From what I can tell?" His cohort asked before continuing, "About a half hour."

"We're good to go, then."

"Yep."

They got out, and he driver walked around the front of the car, joining his lanky and pale companion. The streetlights cast some light on the pair as they glared at the house in front of them. The passenger heaved a pair of leather gloves out of his pocket.

"Gloves? Really?"

"You never know."

They made their way up the walkway to the front door and rang the doorbell.

A woman, who looked strikingly like Diane Lane, answered.

"Can I help you boys?" She asked happily.

"Yeah. Your son. We're friends of his from school. You're hot, by the way." As he spoke, the man's gaze fell into a black hole of cleavage directly under the woman's neck. "Good. God. Anyway. Your boy, is he in?"

Somewhat taken aback, the woman nodded and closed the door as she called upstairs.

After a few seconds, a young man took her place. Though he did not recognize the men in his doorway, he knew that they recognized him.

The large man heaved his fist back and slammed it into the boy's jaw. He stumbled back a moment, before the lanky man kicked him in the shin. Hard.

"I'm grammar."

"I'm dialog."

"Stop ****ing us up."

The two promptly ran away, giggling, before calling out, once more.

"Your mom's really hot!"

Byrd Man

03-17-2009, 08:25 PM

Byrd Man Inc.
Presents a Fan Fic Based on an Idea by Byrd Man
Loosely inspired by Syn

The Bystander

"Eric, have a seat." Mister Peterson says as I walk into his office.

I plop down in the chair across from Peterson's desk as he puts his hands together and looks across at me.

"You have been doing a stellar job here at M&J...Real fine, but with tax season almost over...we are cutting back on our part-time staff."

"Are you getting rid of me?" I ask gingerly.

"Well, that is what I wanted to talk to you about..."

BOOM!

An explosion rocks the office building and sends me flying out of my chair.

Pulling myself up by Peterson's desk, I catch a glimpse of a green clad figure flying up into the sky.

"Goddamn Green Goblin! I told John we should move our offices from the same building as the Daily Bugle, but no!" Peterson says as he pulls himself back up.

"Where was I?" He says as he fixes his glasses.

"The, uh part-timers..."

"Oh, yes." He says with a slight chuckle. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a figure shooting webs out of his arms as he travels after the Goblin.

"Well, we are cutting back on out part-time employment...but we want to add you on full time. You've done a bang up job and I want to keep you on."

I smile widely as I jut my hand out.

"Thank you, sir!" I say as I pump Peterson's hand furiously.

"Don't thank me, son. You made my decision easy. Now, get out of here...it's 5. Go celebrate...and be here at 8 sharp!"

I nod as I start to leave the office.

"Oh, and uh you might want to stay from the bathroom for the next few hours. The news said that Joker poisoned the reservoir again."

"Dang. You know, last time he did it I had to go two whole days without a bath."

"Heh. Yeah, my wife wouldn't come anywhere near me because of my smell."

********

My little Honda shakes and rattles over the noise of my radio as I travel down the highway towards my small apartment.

"News coming in today, the Red Skull announced to the UN Security Council his plan to hold the world hostage with nuclear arms stolen from the former USSR, he demanded a billion dollars in six hours. In response to this, the UN approached Captain America who resolved the issue in a matter of two hours. Red Skull is now in UN custody...again...now on to local news, Daily Planet staff writer Lois Lane got more than she bargained for as she fell fifteen stories during a recent photo shoot at the Finger Building. Luckily the man of steel-"

WHAM!

My car stops dead in it's tracks as a massive green object lands on the hood.

"HULK SMASH!!!" I almost pee my pants as the green giant prepares to smash into my windshield.

"Oh, no you don't!" A robotic voice calls out as it slams into Hulk.

The metallic man picks Hulk up and tosses him into the distance, he takes flight and follows after him.

Leaving me stuck on the freeway with my smashed engine.

*********

"What do you mean it isn't covered? I think Hulk landing on my car counts as an accident! I pay my premium and then some!"

"I'm sorry, sir. Lexcorp Insurance does not cover any damage in which a mutant, metahuman, or demi-god."

I throw my hands up in the air in frustration as I pace in my small apartment.

"Are you kidding me?! How am I suppose to go to work?!"

"That's not our problem."

The voice on the other end of the line hangs up on me as I toss my cellphone on the couch.

I hear a soft rapping at my door and a voice on the other side.

"Eric? Everything okay in there?"

My heart starts to pound as I go to the front door.

"Uh, no...just having some problems with my insurance." I say as I open the door.

Felicia Hardy. My next door neighbor for five years. She's single, has blonde hair, likes yoga, kittens, and old action movies. I've had a crush on her since she moved in...I still haven't acted on it.

"I saw. Did you run across The Hulk?"

"Yeah, actually."

She laughs a bit and tries to cover it up.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't be laughing...."

"It's okay. Today wasn't all bad. I got promoted at work."

"Congrats."

I swallow hard and look her in the eyes as my hear races.

"Would, uh...would you be interested in going out tonight and celebrating with me?"

"No, I'm sorry." She says with a pouty face.

"I have plans tonight. I'm meeting someone uptown."

You idiot. You loser. You stupid jerk.

"Yeah, I understand that...sorry for asking, I should have know you had a boyfriend."

"It's not that. He's just a friend...well, it's complicated really...."

"You don't have to explain to me." I put on my best fake smile.

"Well, I should be going. Way to go on the promotion, I promise you we'll go out and celebrate some other time."

"Sure thing." I say with a smile as I close my door.

I walk slump shouldered to my couch and plop on it.

Just another day here in Champion City.

Blacklight

03-20-2009, 01:06 AM

Blacklight presents...

Hype! RPGs:
THE BRAVE AND THE BOLD

Today's episode: FURY OF THE GOBLIN! pt.1

featuring Blacklight and Ultimate Spider-Man!

Wow... Strangest thing happened today...

I don't know how it was possible. Call it the good ol' "Parker luck", but somehow... Some way...

I met Spider-Man!

I met this kid... From a different universe!

It was a rather... peculiar day in New York City for both Peter Benjamin Parker and Jonathan Small, as they both, up to this point, have never really crossed paths with any inter-dimensional heroes before (if you discount the Squadron Supreme that is...), so for the teenaged duo, this adventure was certainly crossing into new territory.

But something was happening that only the two of them could stop, because should they fail, the universes that they reside in as they know them will be torn apart.

"So... What did you say your name was again?" Spider-Man asked the black-haired hero that was flying beside him as he released himself from his web to create yet another when he pressed his fingers into the triggers in his palm.

"Oh right... Sorry. My name is Blacklight." He answered to the wallcrawler nervously, afraid of making a bad first impression to one of his greatest heroes and inspirations.

"Okay, Blacklight. And let me get this straight... You're saying that where you're from, I'm just a character in a comic book written by some middle-aged bald dude who turned a different version of Norman Osborn into a hero of the public?"

"Unfortunately, yes..."

"Right. And this 'Quesada' guy, he made me make a deal with the devil and erased my marriage to Mary Jane from ALL of existance?"

"That's correct, I'm afraid... Quite the sting to the eyes I got from reading that one..."

"Hey, BL. Do me a favor?"

"What's that, Spidey?"

"Don't ever let me see these two guys if I ever happen to stumble into your universe... Because I think I just might introduce them to my friends 'Power' and 'Responsibility' here..." Spider-Man answered as he showed Blacklight both of his fists.

"Trust me, Pete. I don't think I'd have to stop you as much as you'd have to stop me..." Blacklight jested as he pounded his fist into the palm of his other hand...

"I'll tell you what... You can have both of them if you save me Loeb. I wanna teach that butthole not to mess with THIS universe..."

"Deal."

Then as Spider-Man reached the end of his arc, he managed to shake hands with Blacklight in mid-air before he shot out another zipline...

So yeah, I got to meet the one and only Spider-Man today...

I met this kid from another universe, and his name was Blacklight...

He's pretty cool...

But that was just the start of things to come...

Because little did we know, that us meeting each other was no coincidence...

It was the start of a plot that could potentially destroy both our worlds...

I blame the good ol' Parker luck on that one...

But I had a feeling that together...

We were gonna save the day.

Blacklight and Spider-Man...

Spider-Man and Blacklight...

Yes. It was quite the peculiar day in New York City on Earth-1610, for this was the first crossing of paths out of many. Two of the multiverse's Bravest and Boldest setting out to save the universe from destruction...

After all, these heroes (and many more) are all about to learn that there's strength in numbers.

Blacklight

03-28-2009, 02:43 PM

Blacklight presents...

Hype! RPGs:
THE BRAVE AND THE BOLD

Today's episode: FURY OF THE GOBLIN! pt.2

"Tell me about this 'interesting propostion' you said you had, Mr... What was your name again?" Norman Osborn, known as the Green Goblin to few, asked the red and black armored young man standing before him.

"The name's Infrared, and it seems we both got a mutual problem..." The armored arch-nemesis of Blacklight, a title he holds alongside the nefarious Nightking, told Osborn as he showed a holographic image from his gauntlet of Blacklight and Spider-Man in New York of Earth-1610, searching the skyline for their foes.

"The kid followed me here after that close call we had back on my world, Osborn. So I'm here to offer you my services. I kill them both for a share in the spoils..."

Norman realised at that moment since now this 'Blacklight' character was in the picture, one of his and Infrared's earth's own best heroes no less, something of which Osborn had discovered upon his own excursion throught that dimension, then now the Goblin's troubles have just doubled. Literally. Having Parker on his tail was bad enough, so at this point, the Goblin was looking for any advantage he could get so his plans could come to fruition...

"Whaddya say, Goblin? We got a deal?"

"Hmm... That is quite the interesting proposition, Infrared. Okay then. I'll humor you. Kill the Spider and his friend, and you get a spot in my new world order." The Goblin agreed, his demonic voice not even phasing Infrared as they shook on it. Frankly, Infrared was too busy smiling to notice...

* * *

"Really? You haven't seen him? Green skin, pointy ears, a face that can scare your grandma into a heart attack? He isn't too hard to miss..."

"Get bent, bug..."

"I prefer 'arachnid', thank you..."

The criminal continued to taunt the two heroes as they tried to successfully interrogate the man. However things weren't going well, despite their best efforts. One of those efforts being his hanging upside down from a strand of webing held by Spider-Man himself as they had him strung over the 7-story building overlooking an ally below, where the criminal would become a nasty looking street pizza should Peter accidentally let loose, although it didn't seem to phase the man.

Parker then turned to his new companion, Jon Small aka Blacklight, cupping his hand next to his mouth and whispering quietly enough for the criminal not to hear.

"Looks like he ain't talking anytime soon, BL. Any suggestions?"

"Here. Let me try."

Spider-Man then looked as BL floated off the ledge of the building and descended next to the criminal, smiling as his inverted eyes looked into the criminals own.

"Hi there. Name's Blacklight. Care for a 'lift'?"

Before the criminal could even respond, Blacklight ripped the webbing from which the criminal was suspended and flew up into the sky, almost reaching the clouds in a matter of moments before finally stopping. The criminal flailed widly from the webbing as BL tried to keep hold of the webline.

"Hey! Hey let me down!!" he shouted as he continued flailing about.

"Careful with the thrashing about there, buddy! Wouldn't want you to fall... I mean, after all, from this height... Let's just say it would be quite the mess to clean up."

"PUT ME DOWN!! This isn't FUNNY!!!"

"You're right. It's not funny. But you becoming a stain on the pavement is... So how about you tell me where I can find Osborn before I slip?"

* * *

Seconds later, Blacklight had gently glided down below from the sky, the snitch in tow, before landing atop the same building Spider-Man was still waiting on. From there he dropped the criminal on the concrete, and Spider-Man had his arms crossed.

"Have fun up there?"

"What? It helps to be able fly..."

"Showoff."

"C'mon. I got a lead on the Goblin..."

The Spider-Man fired a webline that adhered to a flagpole and Blacklight had flew after him. They were on a mission to defeat the Goblin at all costs, and they were ginna do it. The fate of their worlds depended on it.

RGDurant

03-28-2009, 10:25 PM

Vincent Tyler shut off his TV when it got to be around midnight after watching a marathon of Tales from The Crypt. He rubbed his eyes, exhausted from the long day, he had just barely started on his Spring Break with his friends, what with swimming, biking, and good old sex, drugs and rock and roll. His parents were out of town, and it was only him and his younger sister, so he had almost complete reign over his time.

He stripped down to his shorts and a t-shirt and climbed into his bed. His head rested on his pillow and before too long, his eyes grew heavy and finally closed.

*********
Vincent opened his eyes to find himself standing in the middle of a street. It was dark except except for the moonlight giving the nearby tree shadows, , the wind was brutally cold and it blew damp leaves from the street gutters. Vincent was chilled to the bone, as he clad mearly in his bedwear, he shivered and looked down the street, seeing nothing but pitch black at either side of him. The moonlight narrowed down and practically left a single house illuminated.

http://i63.photobucket.com/albums/h125/dmedellin_photos/nightmarehouse.jpg?t=1238282392

While he definately did not want to, Vincent's foot moved him towards the house. He couldn't stop, his bare feet stepped onto the porch and his hand was forced forward by an invisible force to clasp the doorknob and turn it to open. Vincent tried to resist going in, but the violent jolt from behind flung through the doorway and the door swung shut behind him.

The interior of the house was nothing like the outside, which was clean and decent enough. Inside, the place looked torn to pieces. Every window had been broken in and boarded up, the floorplanks had been ripped up, the wallpaper was peeling and stained. Vincent walked down the dilapitated hall, wincing in pain everytime a splinter of wood or a piece of broken glass stuck into his bare feet, but he kept walking. He past the stairwell and found a door under it, it creeked open slowly on it's hinges to reveal wooden steps down to the basement. He stepping down and the door closed behind him, he tried to open it, but the doorknobbed crumbled into dust, leaving him no choice but to continue on down.

I was much hotter down in the basement then the upstairs, Vincent could hear a crackling fire and saw orange flickering light across the wall. His foot touched the concrete landing, it was seering hot, like sand in Death Valley, the basement itself was cluttered, old, grim in every corner, with a massive cast iron furnace at far side of the room.

Vincent moved away the furnace, he was being slow fried as it was at the opposite side of the room. He past by boxes full of children's books, toys, dolls, some of them burned or ripped up, and he put his back to the wall next to a tall cabinet.

He bumped into the tall wooden box, causing it to open slightly. Vincent saw some sort of glint inside, he took ahold of the hook handle, it was freezing cold, and opened the simple door all the way.

Inside, a strange scarecrow-like figure was hung up. It was made of what seemed to be straw and twig with red and green horizontal stripes painted across the torso. The face looked scorched, red and black marbles for eyes. a gaping mouth with wooden teeth that appeared to be rotting.

Vincent reached towards the scarecrow thing with curious hand, poking it in the midsection. The second his finger touched it, the torso split in half and like a pinata, stuff fell out. He looked down at puddle of putrid green slime at his feet, disgusting eel-like creatures writhing and gnashing their little teeth into his toes.

Vincent tried to step away, but the scarecrow's left arm shot out and grabbed him about the throat. The head turned with it's wicker neck snapping to face the terrified young man. It spat coagulated blood on his face, Vincent wretched and vomited, but with the grip on his throat, it only oozed slowly from his mouth.

As the rotted blood ceased to flow, the nightmare scarecrow spoke in the most frightening, demonic voice he would ever hear.

"Your no use to me!"

The next thing Vincent knew was the most intense pain in his neck, the taste of his own vomit, and the dark laughter ringing in his eyes before he cut to black.

*********

"Vincent, come on get up, it's your turn to do laundry." Ellie called through her older brother's door. There was not an answer.

"Dammit Vince, I did your chores twice this week, you could at least do your share for once!"

She pounded on the door with her fist before remembering her parents took off his lock. "Alright, suit yourself, I'll drag you out." Ellie said, turning the knob and stepping in.

Ellie screamed and fell to her knees at the sight. Her brother was lying on his bed, soaked with his blood, a puddle of crimson vomit around his head, in his eyes, in his nostrils. His torso had been opened, four long vertical slashes from neck to groin.

Ellie stumbled out of her dead brother's room and made a run for the door outside. She opened it and found that there was no outside, there was a filthy tunnel, and standing at the far side was the dark, twisted figure of a man.

http://i109.photobucket.com/albums/n78/aaron_n_alicia/nightmare-on-elm.jpg?t=1238295742

Ellie slammed her door closed and turned around to run for the nearest phone. But when ran into the kitchen, he was there, and in a moment of violent struggle, he had her against the fridge, the burned flesh of his ratty face contorted into a sick sneer, his glove of knives against her face. He brought his replusive face close to her face, his stinking hot breath against her neck.

"Now, you'll do, you'll do just fine."

The nightmare man wagged his tounge at her perversly, and licked a trail of tears from her cheek.

********

That morning, the police were at the scene. They taped off the house and were right at work surveying the carnage. Coroners were busy with the body of young Vincent, reporter from the local news were getting a story, a man was now trying to reached the deceased's parents.

Sitting out in an ambulance was Ellie, wrapped in a blanket, a dead blank look in her eyes. The paramdics found no serious damage to her physical start, albeit some minor cuts and bruises. But her mental state was severely damaged, she was distant, like she wasn't even aware of her surroundings. She didn't speak any sense, only repeating the same phrase over and over.

"One, two, Freddy's coming for you."

One out of four, and then.......

Mercy

03-29-2009, 08:01 AM

http://i42.tinypic.com/zlsx8i.jpg
With
http://www.zereldax.com/images/icons/drstrange47.jpghttp://www.zereldax.com/images/icons/jean20.jpg
Location: Earth 36.
Morning;
Sixteen Contestants sit in the waiting room, it's nearly time to go into the Board Room, meet Professor Charles Xavier and discuss the first task, as well as the prizes and conditions.

Eight Boys and Eight Girls, fighting to be the next Apprentice of Professor Charles Xavier, under assistance by Doctor Stephen Strange and Jeanette Summers-Grey.

GIRLS - Ms Marvel, Mockingbird (Post-Secret Invasion), Storm, Emma Frost, Jessica Jones, Polaris, Arachne.

BOYS - Hercules, Amadeus Cho, Angel, Wonder Man, Iron Fist, Captain America II, Nick Fury, Human Torch.

"You may go in now" Hazel Donovan, the secretary, said. She leaned over the desk, smiling at the contestants. The contestants nodded and slowly walked into the Board Room, clutching their suitcases.

There was a thin table, placed horizontally. Across the table sat, Doctor Stephen Strange, Professor Charles Xavier and Jeanette Summers-Grey.
"Welcome. You lot should be lucky that I, Jeanette and Stephen chose you sixteen superheroes to travel to Earth-36 and compete to be my next super heroic Apprentice. You don't have to be a mutant to be taught by me. Now. The prizes. The first prize is: You get to be my Apprentice, the second prize: Don't exist. Now, you all know me very well. It's time for me to introduce my two companions and why I choose them." Professor Charles Xavier greeted. The men sat at one end of the table and the women sat at the other end of the table. Six of the men and women were seated and two of the men and women stood.
"Well. On my right and your left, is Doctor Stephen Strange, who you shall address as Dr Stephen. I chose Strange because he's a bloody powerful, smart and heroic superhero. Plus, he was the freaking Sorcerer Supreme. I wasn't. He was. And then on my left and your right we have one of my ex-top students, the sexy but deadly Jeanette Summers-Grey who you shall address as Jean Grey. I chose Jean, because she's died enough times to know when your tasks are going down hill. Also, she's dealt with a pretty big amount of Power, so she knows when you're overusing your abilities for personal gain."
"Hello Ladies and Gentlemen." "Good morning guys."

The contestants greeted Dr Stephen and Jean Grey back with a few waves, smiles and "Hello's".
"Now. To save Professor Charles having to speak any longer, I shall explain today's task. You're task today is to set up a small newspaper stand business, make a deal with a newspaper factory and start producing your own Newspaper. One of you will make a deal with the Daily Globe and one of you will make a deal with the Daily Bugle. Your team leader will instruct you who is the Photographer, who is the Gossip section writer, who is the news section writer, who is the headline/main story writer, who is the sports writer, who does the children comic strips/the sexual helplines, who is the person in charge of the advertisement and who then the team leader will be the Editor-In-Chief. Plus, about four of you will be at the stand and four of you will be at a shopping center" Jean Grey explained. The team seemed happy and liked the idea, nods and cheers were thrown from the crowd.

"And at the end of the day. One of you will be fired. One of you will go home and one of you will cry for the rest of your life that you never came near to this opportunity. Me and Jean will gather up all the information, give to Charles and then Charles will decide the winning team. Then. We will contradict everything you say, call the team leader and their chose two members to stay behind and have a go at them. Those three will leave whilst me, Jean and Charles debate on whether who should go. Then those three will be called back in, shouted at some more and one of you will be fired. Simple" Dr Stephen explained.

"Great. Now. Jean you're with the boys and Stephen your with the girls. Don't underestimate these two. Now, four cars await outside, two for the boys (not including Jean) and two for the girls (not including Dr Stephen. The girls will arrive at an abounded Avengers Mansion where they will get their equipment. The boys will arrive at an abounded Xavier Institute. Remember don't be surprised they're abounded, this is Earth-36"

"Thank you Professor Charles." All the contestants said at the same time. They all slowly walked out, excited about what's to come.

Snapper_Carr

03-30-2009, 08:05 AM

[I'm going to drink some serious alcohol and post here...it won't be pretty, but then, neither are you]

Matt Murdock

03-30-2009, 08:15 AM

Interesting.

Batman

05-19-2009, 06:13 PM

Well, I decided to take a crack at a set of stories I've been waiting to tell for awhile now. Here's the prologue, for those interested...

The villain of the tale was, like so many before him, beginning to panic.

His plot so intricate, his scheme so devious, his very world strung upon the fate of it's outcome. He'd allowed himself the slightest arrogance to believe that his plan was infallible - but it was only now, on the verge of possible defeat, that he'd seen the error in that grave mistake. And now, despite everything set in motion, he looked upon his grand deathtrap not with content and malicious wonder at his own criminal genius.

But with fear.

It isn't possible,, The words that rang through his mind were shouting. My trap! It was perfect! No mere... mortal, could have escaped it and lived!

The zombie drones that stood upon the gates of his master control room turned, bewildered by a faint noise. A noise that was beginning to grow louder.

"Uhhh..."

"Be quiet!", He commanded, with a stern and slender finger raised. "It isn't possible. He couldn't have escaped..."

Another one of the zombies tried to pique his attention. The brutal sounds outside were beginning to become inavoidable. But in the irony of it all, he had forgotten to give them the most important function of the human, or perhaps inhuman brain.

Comprehension. "Muhhh..."

"Did I not tell you to be quiet?!", He angrily warned them. "I am trying to plan, and you know very well the price of going against the will of THE MONK!"

As he proclaimed the name that had riddled an entire Transylvanian village with terror, the very same look came upon The Monk's eyes, as he suddenly noticed the sounds that his zombie drones had tried so desperately to warn him of.

The metal doors of the control room began to shake.

"No...", He said aloud. "NO! THIS CANNOT COME TO PASS! IT CANNOT BE!"

But it was. A moment later, and the carcass of a giant, bloodied werewolf came crashing through the stern alloy of the unhinged door. The animal fell flat to his feet, as the zombies began panicking.

The Monk was on the verge of hysterics.

"THE MONK CANNOT BE DENIED!"

"Spare me the melodramatics."

The dark warrior stood within the shadows, staring down the menace he had easily reduced to a sniveling wreck by his presence alone. His cloak wrapped around him in brilliant, if not unintentional, symmetry with his surroundings.

http://i522.photobucket.com/albums/w345/BatmanRPG2/rpg5.png

"I've heard it all before."

The Monk turned, his eyes directly upon the zombie drones as he raised both hands, as if in dire concentration. "Attack him! Tear out his heart!"

The zombies looked at eachother, confused. The Monk's skin turned another shade white, in startling realization...

"They're not listening...", He told himself. "What trickery is this?!"

The grim smile came upon Batman's lips, if only for an instant. "Your key to their willpower has been misplaced, Monk. I rearranged their ESP signals with the very same radio device that you aligned across your 'Castle of Horrors' to taunt me."

Removing two silver-dipped batarangs from his utility belt, Batman swiftly assumed an attack position.

"Needless to say, your efforts were wasted."

The Monk screamed out in anguish, grabbing a nearby dungeon's axe from the stone wall. The Batman seemed unafraid, as he looked past the villain, staring at the monitors that displayed his captives. Two women were locked away within his dungeons, and would they not be released, the Transylvanian Curse of Worlocks would forever torment their psyches.

"Put that toy away, Monk. You're wasting valuable time. Release Julie Madison and Dala at once, and the Gotham Judicial system may be lenient on you."

But The Monk didn't listen, as his murderous eyes tore through his enemy like a cat upon mice.

"I refuse to believe it! No man alive has the will to defy me!"

The axe swung high, but Batman easily parried, using both batarangs as a defensive measure. Bringing the axe down, Batman kicked The Monk across the chest, before lunging into a roundhouse punch, knocking the villain to the ground.

"Hh. Perhaps you didn't get the memo,", He stated, tossing the axe away.

"I'm The Batman. You never had a chance."

Byrd Man

06-30-2009, 07:37 AM

Here's a story I've been thinking about doing for some time.

Part I

Kansas 1872

In the pitch black night, the burning cross illuminated the area, casting light on the men in white robes and hoods gathered around a giant oak tree.

"Brothas!" The man in front of the group proclaims.

"We are gathered here tonight for one reason....to teach this animal a lesson!"

The crowd starts to cheer as two klansmen bring a bruised and beaten black man in front of the group.

"State your name." The leader of the group says as he kicks the black man in the stomach.

"J-....John Stewart."

"You, boy. Have been charged with eyeing a white woman, and lusting in your heart after her. What do you say to your defense?"

"I'll see all ya'll in hell."

The klan leader grabs a rope from off the ground.

"Let the lynching begin."

The two klansmen start to wrap the rope around Stewart's neck while the leader tosses the rope on one of the branches of the tree.

"Rot in hell, n*****." One of the klansmen say as the rope starts to tighten around his neck.

BLAM!

A gunshot rings out in the darkness as the klansmen scatter.

The rope starts to get taunt as John Stewart gets picked up off his feet, he struggles as the noose strangles him.

His vison starts to blur as he hears the sounds of gunfire and horses.

************

"Ahh!" John Stewart says as he snaps his eyes open. He's laying in a bed with a bandage around his neck.

The room he's in is bare, with only a desk and a chair accompanying the bed.

"You're awake, huh?" Says the man standing at the door.

He runs his fingers through his brown hair and smiles at Stewart.

"You been asleep for about twenty hours."

"Where am I?" John asks with his scratchy voice.

"You're home, a safe haven."

"Hal." A stern voice says from the hallway. An tall man with graying blonde hair walks into the room.

"You're awake, huh?" The old man says as he grabs the desk chair and sits down next to Stewart.

"You looked so bad, we couldn't leave you."

"Who are you?"

"My name is Major Alan Scott, we're the Green Lantern Corps."

Karem-Knight

07-11-2009, 11:23 PM

Namco City, Pacington HQ

As I stand outside the tall skyscraper, I take a look around the city behind me with Missy holding my arm.

"Don´t go..." she says, I give her a look that shows regret but responsbility; I´ve made these monsters, now it´s my job to stop them. "I´m sorry Missy." I kiss her on the lips, gently before letting go and facing my demons. I stare behind me, the crows applauds and that´s when I know; "I´m ready." I say putting on my helmet and rush towards the building, running inside I burst into the reception and I can hear the ghosts laughing while I´m here, as I stare at the ground I see the small tiny explosives they´ve planted in the buildins. Thankfully, I also have my back up plan, won´t kill them but eventually after all the 255 floors everyone will go down.

"I´m here!"

I say, waiting when one of them finally makes their apperance. "Ah, Mr. Packer; we have been expecting you!" Red says, he´s their front man. Because he´s the fastest of the ghosts and then he starts to run towards me intense speeds I duck and grab the first 10 mini explosves, destroying them with my helmet. The computer in my helmet tells me how many people´s lives i have saved by doing it. 760. Need to get a higher score if I´m going to do my job, I collect more of the bombs with Red chasing behind me and his friend, Romp right in front of me. Dammit! The ambusher. "You´re not going to make it tonight...HAHAHAHA!" I grin beneath my helmet. " I know....but neither will you. See these tiny explosives are what keeps you four alive, I however made an alternative!" I grab more explosives before avoiding Romp, narrowly and grab the energey current and activating it with the helmet. "This is what created you monsters in the first place, I reversed the technology. You´ll appear blue but you´ll also be sitting ducks against me." They start to scream in pain and agony as I run towards them sending out an energey blast to Romp and Red, they´re eyes disappear back to the orignal chamber to regroup. I´ve got four of these lying around the building, now to get out the other explosives. Running a long, I grab more and more of them when all of a sudden the more spineless of the group turns behind me, his name is Clyde.

"Get back here!" He´s slow, easy target I grab more of the explosives destroying them and then duck out to the second energey activator as Red comes back for more. Blasting a beam of yellow light they both disappear before me, Romp on the other side behind the other energey beam. Running towards him I grab more explosives at intense speeds, I even impress myself and eveaporite Romp again and then Inky, the second in command to Red shows up. "Now you´re mine!" His dark blue to white texture tells me the activation has worn off, no matter I turn back and grab my third energey activator.

"Afraid not, Inky!" He turns a darker shade of blue before I blast him, then I remember I used the last energey pack too early. I rush to the other side of the office, one more energey pack left and only a few more explosives till they can´t inhabit this floor. I run fast, and Red and Romp are on my trail again. I sigh, Romp goes off elsewhere with Red on my tail they are defiantly planning another ambush. I run past another direction to lose Romp; good there´s only two to take care of. Grabbing what´s left of the mini explosives I decimate all of them before Romp and Red think they´ve got me completley trapped.

"See? This is why I´m the ambusher!" No time to listen, I activate the last remaining energey pack on this floor and blast Romp to bits while Red starts running away I run towards him he then starts screaming for mercy.

"What....what are you!?"

"I´m PACMAN!'

I blast him one last time, as he decimates. This floor is safe, now to move onto to the next level.

Eddie Brock

07-12-2009, 12:53 AM

"There's too many of them!" Kimberly insists. Her long, brown hair is sticking to her forehead. She feels disgusting. In any other situation, it would bother her. Now, however, she has bigger things on her mind. Falling in line, Kimberly turns to Jason. "What do we do?"

Jason surveys the waves upon waves of Putties, the foot-soldiers of Rita Repulsa. He's never seen this many in one place. That much was true. "I don't know," Jason admits. It was crazy. Last week, his biggest fear was his Chemistry midterm exam. "Where are the others?" he asks nervously.

"Right behind you!" Zach announces. Jason and Kimberly turn, and their hearts collectively drop. Another wave of Putties was approaching from the rear. Zach and Trini looked overwhelmed. "I'm starting to think maybe we should do something?" Zach suggests.

"Where's Billy?" Trini asks suddenly.

As if on cue, Billy's body flies through the air between them. Landing with a thud, Billy coughs. Upon pulling himself to his feet, he assures, "I'm alright." Then, upon seeing the enemies' numbers, he adds, "But we won't be for much longer."

Jason nods. The situation was dire. "Alright, alright. There's only one thing we can do." He checks the area once more for bystanders. It's all clear - nothing but the five teenagers and hordes of Putties. Jason reaches for his belt buckle. At this, it becomes clear that it's more than just a belt buckle. Holding it in front of him, Jason announces, "It's Morphin' time!"

The four others hold up their respective Morphers. The Morphers pop open as the golden Power Coins shimmer. For a second, the teenagers allow themselves to smirk.

"MASTODON!"

"PTERYDACTAL!"

"TRICERATOPS!"

"SABER-TOOTHED TIGER!"

"TYRANNOSAURUS!"

In a brilliant flash of light, the five teenagers are transformed. Where they once stood, now five warriors stand, adorned in colorful, other-worldly armor. Falling into formation, the Power Rangers strike a pose to instill terror into the heart of the Putties. It works, if only for a moment.

"Let's get them!" Jason barks with all the confidence and poise befitting of a leader. With the fear of being overwhelmed now gone, the Power Rangers leap into action. And the Putties, seemingly knowing better, begin to back off. Beneath his helmet, Jason smiles widely. Just another day at the office.

Matt Murdock

07-12-2009, 12:55 AM

Kimberly was hot.

...What?

Eddie Brock

07-12-2009, 04:50 PM

(Here's a story I've wanted to do for some time. I'm going to condense it, but it was originally going to be a full-length fanfiction.)

The year was 1907. Banks were failing, and hard times came to Gotham. The city, which always teetered on the edge of financial disaster, fell deep into recession. Historians would call it a "panic." Those who lived it, those who witnessed how bad Gotham would eventually get, disagreed. "Panic," they said, doesn't begin to explain it. In many ways, the financial crisis was the straw that broke Gotham's back. To this day, many agree that the city has never fully recovered.

My parents took me to see Ben Hur in the theater. It was first movie reel I'd ever seen. It was magnificent. On the screen, the gladiators looked larger than life as they raced their chariots. I was seated between my parents, who were both smiling happily. All three of us were happy that night. Dad, who had built a considerable estate, was unconcerned with the economic turmoil surrounding us. The Waynes, he would tell me, were going to be alright.

If only I could have told him then that he was so wrong.

As we left the theater, I took my father and mother's hands. They led me down the street, away from the theater. The air was cool and the night clear. Dad suggested that we take advantage by walking home. Mom didn't much care for the idea, but Dad managed to talk her into it. I broke away from my parents and skipped ahead, relishing the wonderful night. Behind me, Dad put his arm around Mom and laughed pleasantly.

When I first saw Joe Chill - as I would later learn he was named - I thought very little of him. Seated on a park bench, wearing an oversized coat, he looked no different than the dozens of homeless people lining Gotham's streets. I was too young to understand the look in his eyes, to see his desperation. My parents, however, understood. They stopped laughing and increased their pace, urging me along.

"What's wrong?" I asked naïvely.

Dad prodded me forward. "Keep moving, Bruce," he instructed calmly. I'll never forget his tone of voice. It put me at ease, made me believe nothing was out of the ordinary. Dad had that way about him. He always knew the right thing to say. Maybe if I was older, I would have recognized the nervousness in his voice that night. Maybe I would have recognized a lot of things.

I distinctly remember hearing the fourth set of steps following us. At this, I began to worry, but only slightly. Dad put his hand on my shoulder, and I felt my fears melt away. I noticed that the new steps were increasing to match ours. I convinced myself for a moment to think that I was merely imagining them. That denial was immediately dispelled when my mother's scream cut through the night air.

"AAAAAAAAAIYYYYYYYYEEEEEE!"

I stumbled forward as my father released me. Terror in my heart, I turned, and the sight is as clear to me now as it was then. My mother was thrashing as hard as she could. Her eyes were slammed shut. An unfamiliar pair of hands were grabbing her from behind. As she kicked and spun, I managed to catch glimpses of Chill - the same look of desperation in his eyes. As Dad approached, Chill pushed my mother to the ground. Her pearl necklace shattered across the sidewalk.

It was then that I first heard the sound of the hammer being pulled back on a gun. To this day, it sometimes echoes in my brain, taunting me. Dad froze in place when he saw the weapon. My eyes, too, were inexplicably drawn to it. Chill waved the gun madly, barking something at my father. My father held us his arms and gave a response. That's when Chill shot him.

BANG!

The only thing louder than the gunshot was my mother's screams. Everything started moving slowly. Dad's hands immediately went to his abdomen. His back was turned, so I didn't see his face. I imagine he wore the same look of shock and terror that I did. He fell to one knee, collapsing in the next instant. I remember silence - nothing but silence.

BANG!

The second gunshot was all I could hear. Yet I was suddenly aware that my mother had stopped screaming. She lay in the ground, in the same spot as before, unmoving. Chill looked at her in disbelief before turning his attention to me. To this day, I don't know what he thought in that moment. After staring in my eyes, Chill dropped the gun and ran. Once he was gone, I sprinted to my parents' side.

There they lay - Thomas and Martha Wayne. I don't remember if I cried. The policeman who found me at the scene said I did, but I don't remember it. I remember my father reaching out for me, but by the time I took his hand, he was dead. I knelt there, holding my dead father's hand in disbelief. I was eight years old.

Batman

07-12-2009, 05:46 PM

Nicely done.

Eddie Brock

07-12-2009, 05:50 PM

Nicely done.
I think you know the in's and out's of this story after all the times I brainstormed with you about it. :oldrazz:

Eddie Brock

07-12-2009, 07:58 PM

It's the summer of 1929. In a few short months, Gotham - along with the rest of the world - will be facing a financial crisis of unparalleled proportions. As the recession grows, Gotham is split into two social classes: those with money and those without. The former is blissfully unaware of the latter, explaining why catapulting crime rates cease to alarm the general public. The people have long since accepted that Gotham is a cesspool of crime and corruption, and no one is brave enough to shake the status quo.

I've just returned from a decade-long trip around the world, following the Great War. Ever since my parents' death, I felt a calling deep inside. It motivated me to enlist, despite being only eighteen when America joined the hostilities. As horrific as it was, my time on the frontline was one of the best experiences of my life. I witnessed evil in those trenches, and I emerged victorious. I set out to conquer evil and fear in all its forms, preparing myself for the day when I would face it in my own backyard.

As it were, I've returned to Gotham just in time for my thirtieth birthday party. My penthouse is filled with two things: people and music. It's the time of Prohibition, but that never really stopped Gotham anyway. In a city this corrupt, a little bootlegging was the least of anyone's worries. I'm handed a glass of champagne the second I walk in through the door. I smile politely and scan the room for familiar faces.

"Bruce Wayne," a sultry voice from behind purrs. I turn and face Selina Kyle, one of Gotham's most well-known flappers. Her "little black book" is thicker than the Bible, and she's made it no secret that she wants to add my name to the list. It's a proposition I haven't really had time to consider. "Here I thought you were never coming back," Selina admits as she takes a swig of her champagne.

"And risk never again seeing you, Selina?" I smile. With a wink, I assure her, "Never." Over her shoulder, I watch one of Gotham's less savory figures forcing his way through the crowd. "You'll have to excuse me, Selina," I lament as I pat her gently on the shoulder. She sneers as I set off across the room.

Once I'm close enough, the man recognizes me. Raising his glass, he announces, "You sure can throw a party, Wayne." His name is Carmine Falcone, but more people know him as "The Roman." He's the beginning and the end of my mission. It all comes back to him. Once a small-time bootlegger, Falcone worked his way up the ranks, rallying the Italian mafia behind him. Putting him away would advance my goals greatly. For now, however, I smile and raise my glass in response. Falcone wastes no time downing his.

"I'll forgive you overlooking my invitation," a familiar British voice speaks from my left. I turn to see Alfred Pennyworth, an old acquaintance of mine from the War. He's aged some since I saw him last. Grey hair has begun to take control of his temples. "I know how dreadful it is trying to get a wire across the pond," he laughs.

I open my arms and embrace Alfred warmly. "I wasn't expecting you," I explain politely. "What are you doing all the way over here in Gotham?" I ask interestedly. The trip from England to America is hardly one you make on a whim. Now, I could believe that he came for my birthday party, but I wouldn't know how he heard of it.

Alfred shakes his head. "I found myself out of a job, so I decided to travel the world," he explains. "Of course, I ran out of money, so it looks like Gotham will be my only stop." At least he can keep his humor about him. I always remembered that about Alfred. We shared many laughs over drinks, when we weren't fighting. "When I got here, everyone was talking about Bruce Wayne's party, so I figured, why the Hell not? I seem to remember you offered me a drink if I ever found my way over here!"

I laugh and pat Alfred reassuringly on the shoulder. "Of course, of course! You're always welcome here, Alfred!" I lean in and explain seriously, "And if you need money, I can help. God knows I have more than I need."

Alfred laughs heartily. "What, are you going to get me a job?" he asks half-jokingly. He quickly grabs a glass of champagne from a waiter carrying a tray. "Because you're off your rocker if you think I'm going to lower myself to cleaning up after you. I don't care how much money you have!"

"We'll think of something," I promise him. I then push him gently into the crowd, waving a dismissive hand. "Now, go! Mingle! Drink all my booze! I owe you one!"

"That you do," he agrees, "That you do."

Eddie Brock

07-14-2009, 12:41 AM

Tonight's darker than any I ever remember in Gotham. I find myself being silently thankful for it. I shift uncomfortably on my perch. The suit is more uncomfortable than I remember. It's carrying far too much weight, severely limiting my maneuverability. I'll have to fix it later. I've waited far too long for this night. I won't allow such a trivial problem to sidetrack me. I must admit: though wearing this ridiculous thing makes me feel quite queer, it also gives me a perverse feeling of empowerment, of invincibility. Dressed in this peculiar garb, I can do anything.

Sergeant James Gordon is a beat cop who drew the short straw. His beat is the Narrows, one of the seediest parts of Gotham. The Narrows are a teeming wasteland which must be cleansed if I am to have any hope of ridding Gotham of the evil which orphaned me. For this reason, an alliance with Gordon seemed necessary. Yet that's not why I picked him. Gordon lives his life on the edge every day, yet none of his colleagues seem to remember a complaint. He reports to work, and he does his job. He does it well. Some call him an "idealist" because he believes he can fix Gotham.

To me, that just makes him a fellow believer.

I follow him carefully for a moment. He follows a specific route, and I've been monitoring him for days. I know where he walks and how long it takes to get there. Using this information, I've discerned the best location for me to approach him. The streetlamp is broken, and no one's taken the time to get it fixed. For five minutes of his night, every night, Gordon is bathed in almost total darkness. It's the ideal condition for someone like me.

"Sergeant Gordon," I growl. My entire act here is largely illusion. In reality, I'm just a man in a strange suit. But my enemies must never know that. To them, I must be something far more real, far more terrifying. The growl helps. Of course, it also gives men like Gordon the wrong impression. "There's no need to reach for your gun," I assure him, watching his hand move away from the holstered weapon. "I just want to talk."

"You want to talk, so you wait until I can't see you?" Gordon asks rhetorically. This is why I need him. He's quick. I can use a man like that on my side. "Well, go ahead. Talk. I don't suppose you're going to let it happen any other way."

"It's time for Gotham to say, 'No more,' to the evils that plague it," I explain confidently. "Too long have corrupt politicians and businessmen run this city into the ground while others remained quiet. Too long have men such as yourself fought a losing battle. Starting tonight, we take back our city."

Gordon scoffs. "Our city?" he repeats skeptically. Putting his hands on his hips, he questions, "Who are you to tell me what needs to happen in my city? You think I'm not already setting this chain-of-events into motion? I've been fighting for Gotham long before you, I can tell you that." He's proud of his work. He should be. He's the cleanest cop this city's ever seen.

"I know," I concede. I pull the cloak around me tighter as a nighttime breeze rolls in. "That's why you're the one I've approached. I need you, Gordon. As proud as I am, I know I can't do this alone. So do you. It's in both our benefits to work together," I insist.

"And how do you suggest we do that?"

I take one of my small sherukins out of my pocket. I learned how to use these during my time in the Orient. They're a powerful weapon - if not necessarily for offensive attack, then for distraction. "Stay out of my way." I throw the sherukin at the lit streetlamp behind Gordon. The glass shatters, and the light extinguishes. While Gordon's back is turned, I dash off into the night.

Eddie Brock

07-14-2009, 01:33 PM

Falcone's penthouse is a fortress. Of course, its defenses were not designed for someone like me. My cloak billows in the wind as I climb higher. My days of mountain climbing in the Himalayas have finally paid off. That said, the side of a building is a different challenge than the sheer face of a mountain. I grip onto the rope tightly through my gloves, my breathing shallow and controlled. The lights of Falcone's penthouse are in sight.

Pulling myself up onto the ledge, I peer down into Falcone's study through the skylight. The room is filled with people. Falcone is seated at his desk, opposite a very nervous-looking man. Two man flank Falcone on either side. Another two men stand behind the nervous man. A final man guards the door. Seven occupants in total. I open the skylight carefully and listen.

"I got sources on the inside, Kelly," Falcone explains. I suddenly remember why I recognize the nervous man. He's one of Falcone's men. Dennis Kelly. "The cops are closing in. All they need is for the judge to sign the arrest warrant, and they're bringing you down." Falcone leans forward, his hands folded on the desk. "You know what happens when they bring you in, right, Kelly?"

"I won't talk, Carmine!" Kelly promises desperately. He takes a step forward, but one of the men behind him grabs his coat, pulling him back. "Please, I swear I won't talk! You've gotta believe me!"

Falcone leans back and lights a cigar. "Everyone talks," he muses disinterestedly. "You hear me? Everyone." Falcone stares at Kelly for a moment before blowing smoke in his direction. Leaning back in his chair, Falcone motions for the men flanking him to grab Kelly.

"No! Please! Carmine, please! I swear I won't! I swear! Please, Carmine, please!" One of the men punches Kelly in the gut. He lurches forward, grunting pointedly. Coughing, he pleads, "I'll leave town! They'll never find me! Please, Carmine, let me leave!"

Falcone considers the suggestion, but I can tell by the look on his face that he's already made up his mind. "You know I'd like nothing more, Kelly, but I can't take that risk," he answers calmly. I watch him open a desk drawer. He reaches for something. I see a flash of silver, and I throw a sherukin at a potted plant on the desk. The pot explodes, and everyone in the room jumps. "WHAT THE HELL--?"

Kelly is staring right at me. Falcone and the other men look up, and they notice me as well. I remain unmoving, my cloak wrapped around my body. I'm sure I'm a terrifying sight. "What is that thing?" Kelly asks, suddenly forgetting the events of the past five minutes. "Is that a person? Do you think it's real?"

"Only one way to find out," Falcone remarks, aiming his pistol at me. No one else notices, but his hand is trembling. I feel the small sherukin in my hand. Falcone takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. When he opens them again, I recognize the determination. This time, he is going to shoot. As soon as his finger twitches, I jump into action.

Leaping through the open skylight, I spread my arms wide. My cloak spreads open, giving me the appearance of a larged, winged creature - a wraith descending from the sky. Falcone's men back up. Kelly ducks. I toss my sherukin, and it hits Falcone in the shoulder. He immediately drops his gun, moments before I land on his desk. The room is still for a moment.

Falcone's men respond quicker than I expected. The door guard draws a pistol. I reach for another sherukin. The two men closest to the desk start approaching cautiously. The one on the right has a switchblade. The one on the left has brass knuckles. I leap off the desk, kicking the one on the left in the chin. The one with the knife immediately comes after me, thrusting the knife in quick, deadly strokes. I dodge them with some effort, spinning my cloak around to make him unsure of where the cloak ends and my body begins.

The man with the brass knuckles comes at me with a right cross. I counter by hitting him on the inside of his elbow. As he fades, the man with the knife stabs at my face. I throw the cloak over his head, confusing him. In his confusion, I manage to land a few kidney punches. I kick him in the kneecap, and he falls backwards. The man with the brass knuckles throws a right hook. I catch the punch with ease. My palm stings from the brass knuckles, but I don't show it on my face. I quickly elbow his left elbow from above, snapping his arm. I drop him, and he starts screaming in pain.

The other two men start to circle, waiting for the proper moment to strike. I notice that one of them also has a knife. Meanwhile, the first man with a knife rushes in with a flurry of attacks. I wrap my cloak and my hand for protection as I try to catch the hand with the knife. After a few tries, I'm successful. I twist his wrist, forcing him to drop the weapon. I headbutt him in the nose, the weakest part of the face. It shatters with a sickening crunch. I toss him aside carelessly.

The last two men charge me simultaneously. The one without the knife lines up a high punch, which I duck under. The one with the knife lunges once, grazing my shoulder. I don't allow them to see the blood. I can't let them think I'm human. I need to be something more. I punch the knife-wielder in the face with a quick right hook. I then transition into elbowing the second man in the cheek. Both of them stumble backwards. I grab both of their heads and smack them together. They collapse at the same time.

Finally with a clear shot, the door guard opens fire. Again, I twirl my cloak to confuse him. Meanwhile, I draw the sherukin from earlier. In one fluid motion, I spin and launch the sherukin at the man's chest. It strikes him on his right. He yelps in pain and stumbles. I turn back to Kelly and Falcone. The former is whimpering on the ground. I do nothing to him. The latter is watching in disbelief.

"What the Hell are you?" he asks terrified. I only wish the other members of his organization were here to see this: Carmine Falcone, frozen in fear of me. Suddenly, he doesn't seem as invincible as he once was. I approach his desk slowly, allowing the tension to grow. Falcone appears willing to run but unable. He's stuck in his chair, holding his shoulder wound.

I push the desk out of the way with one hand. Nothing stands between him and I now. Grabbing him by his tie, I lift him out of the chair. Sneering, I answer, "I'm Bat-Man." Whether it's from the pain or his fear of me, Falcone faints. I drop his body on the floor. My work here is done. Kelly continues to whimper. I merely glare at him for a second, just enough to strike sheer terror into his very heart and soul. The cops already have what they need on him.

I scale the wall of Falcone's study and leave through the skylight. Someone will have heard the commotion. For now, there's nothing more the Bat-Man can do. I've earned a good night's sleep. With one more flapping of my cape, I disappear into the darkness.

Eddie Brock

07-16-2009, 01:16 AM

The hallways of Wayne Manor are strikingly empty. When I returned to Gotham, I swore that I would only stay at my penthouse in the city. I knew that if I returned to the Manor, these feelings would surface. In the old days, this place was filled with life and laughter. That all died with my parents. The Manor has been largely unused since I left Gotham for the War, but I couldn't resist staying here upon my return. For all the sad memories of mourners wandering the halls, offering empty words of sympathy, I have a thousand more memories of wonderful times here.

I look up from my glass of orange juice as Alfred enters the kitchen. I offered him a room to stay in - after all, Lord knows I have many to spare. After some initial resistance, he agreed. Truth be told, I'm glad I'm not alone in this big house. Alfred tosses today's Gazette onto the table before me as he makes his way to the cupboard.

"When you used to tell me that Gotham was crazy - back during the War - I thought you were merely speaking figuratively," Alfred muses. I slide the newspaper across the table and examine the headline. "WHO IS 'THE BAT-MAN?'" I do my best to hide my smile. Yawning, Alfred continues, "I daresay I deserve a bloody medal for finding my way to the kitchen without a map."

I laugh warmly. It feels good. I haven't had a laugh that wasn't faked in some time. "How'd you sleep?" I ask before bringing the glass of orange juice to my lips again.

"Like a baby," Alfred grins. He retrieves a glass for himself, and - while pouring himself some juice - explains, "I really wish you'd let me repay you for your hospitality somehow. I do feel bloody guilty intruding on your privacy like this."

I look up from the article. The wild accusations made in it are as amusing as they are false. The press has really made the Bat-Man out to be something otherworldly. It will help me a great deal. "Oh, come on, Alfred," I insist. "You know I'm not a private man."

Nodding, he suggests, "Perhaps I might prepare a little breakfast?" Noting the look on my face, he quickly adds, "I've been known to throw things together from time to time. Don't worry." As he searches the kitchen for all the necessary equipment, I lean back in my chair. I've just noticed how hungry I really am.

"Breakfast sounds swell, Alfred. Thank you."

***

It takes me a second, but I soon realize that Sergeant Gordon's been expecting me this time. Subtle glances over his shoulder, a slowed pace, general quietness altogether. I'm frankly unsurprised when my presence doesn't cause any real disturbance to him. Turning, he looks in the general direction of my shadowed figure.

"I hope you're happy," he begins irritably. "Thanks to you, Falcone stands a good chance at getting moved to Jeremiah Arkham's Asylum for claiming that he was beat up by a bat." Gordon folds his arms. I expected this kind of initial resistance to my methods. "Years I spent building this case - just to have it thrown down the drain because of a guy in a mask."

I shift under my cloak. Unlike the press, Gordon recognizes me for what I am. Maybe that's why I don't frighten him. "The important thing is that Falcone's off the streets," I remind him. I may not like that the Roman is going to live a life of luxury in the Asylum, but it's better than living one out here. At least it complicates things. "Don't you see that this is the beginning?"

Gordon scoffs. "The beginning of what?"

"They're scared," I answer simply. "Falcone's men. Maroni's men. Thorne, Zucco, all of them. I've put you in a position to strike." Gordon shakes his head. His skepticism is understandable. "The mob knows now that they aren't safe. They're terrified. Terrified of me. They're going to make mistakes, and you're going to catch them."

"Don't you see where this leads?" Gordon asks pleadingly. "Sure, you've got them running now. And - don't get me wrong - landing Falcone was a big step. But it's never going to last. Eventually, you're going to back them into a corner." Gordon pauses, kicking at the sidewalk absently. "If they can't stop you, they'll find someone who can."

I stand up a little straighter. I admit that I've opened Pandora's box. By promoting this kind of theatrical vigilantism, I not only grant others permission to do the same, but I also invite those on the other side to join in. The cops already have enough trouble with the mob. The last thing they need is someone like me trying to bring them down. It was a calculated risk, but a necessary one. I needed a dramatic example to show the mob that not everyone's afraid.

"Let me worry about that," I reply dismissively. "For now, concentrate on hitting Falcone's organization. Hard. These are dangerous people. I don't need to remind you that it won't take them long to regroup."

"And what if this plan of yours doesn't work?" Gordon asks. He turns, gathering his thoughts. "What if you have the opposite effect on them? What if, instead of running, they come back in full force?" He turns around for my answer, but he'll discover that I'm no longer there. The night calls for me.

Karem-Knight

07-16-2009, 01:49 PM

Byrd Man

07-16-2009, 08:26 PM

1950

Hollywood, California
3:24 AM

I stand behind the crime scene tape while the lab boys go to work.

"Okay, Eddie." Lieutenant Stanton says as he lifts up the tape.

"What the hell happened here?" I say as I look down at the dead body. The body's skin should be pink, but the wounds drained all color from the body, leaving it black and white.

"From what we can tell. Multiple gunshot wounds to the head and chest. Slowly bleed to death."

"Gunshot wounds? Where they real or?"

"As far as we can tell, real lead."

I shake my head and pull out a cigar. I look around at the coloful buldings and bright sunshine. No matter what time of night, it never gets dark here.

"Are you telling me someone managed to figure out to kill a-"

Stanton cuts me off.

"Yeah, Eddie."

The coroners lift up Porky Pig's stale and colorless body.

"Someone found out how to kill a toon."

Eddie Valiant & Roger Rabbit

In

That's All Folks!

After leaving the scene, I head over to Roger's place. Ever since that nasty business with Judge Doom, he and Jessica have been getting along like Newlyweds.

Much to my dismay.

"PATTY CAKE! PATTY CAKE! PATTY CAKE! PATTY CAKE!" The rabbit yells from within his house.

I shake my head and ring the doorbell. A few minutes pass before the door opens.

"Eddie Valiant!" Roger says with a smile as he grabs me and kisses my cheek.

I pull him off and wipe my face off.

"Nice to see you too."

"What do I owe the pleasure?!"

"Porky Pig was killed about an hour ago."

Roger's eyes go all sad and he puts his hands to his mouth.

"No....not Porky."

"I'm afraid so. And here's the thing, someone did it with real bullets. A human killed a toon with a real gun."

"How?"

"That's what I need you help with. I also need to find out if anyone had a grudge against Porky."

"I, ahh. Had heard some rumors about Porky. I heard he ran with a bad crowd and what not."

"The LAPD brough me in as a consultant, if you want, you can tag along and help me solve this. It's been awhile since I've done work in Toontown, I'm gong to need some help."

"Well, say no more! This'll be just like it was a few years ago. Valiant and Rabbit, back together again."

"Yeah, yeah. Just try and not get killed."

"Sure thing!...Now can I have a gun?"

*************

"I'm s-s-s-s-sorry...I'm just still t-t-t-t-trying to deal with this." Petunia Pig says as she takes a tissue and blows into it for a full minute. I falls to the floor with a wet smack.

Toons.

"That's fine, Petunia. We just want to find out who killed your husband."

"Had he been acting strangely lately?"

"A b-b-b-b-b-b a bit. Always staying g-g-g-g-gone and hosting those m-m-m-meetings."

"What meetings?"

"I s-s-s-s-shouldn't say."

"Please, it'll help us."

"P-p-p-porky was d-d-d-d-dealing in c-c-c-c-c-c-communism."

I arch my eyebrow and look at Roger.

"Communism?"

"Y-y-y-y-yes! He was beng i-i-i-investigated by people. Someone came by and t-t-t-threatened him abouting telling the studios and b-b-b-blacklisting him."

"Who?"

She shifts her eyes nervously and whispers it in Roger's ear.

"Him? No."

*************

Roger and I stand outside the Toontown house.

"It can't be him, Eddie! No way he'd do that."

"Petunia says he was threatening Porky just a week before he was killed. As far as suspects. He's the main one right now." I say as I knock on the door.

The door swings open and our suspect smiles with a carrot in his mouth.

http://i269.photobucket.com/albums/jj78/Abercrombie002/bugs_bunny.jpg

"Ehhh, what's up, Doc?"

"Mr. Bunny, we need to know everything you know about the murder of Porky Pig."

Andy C.

07-16-2009, 09:36 PM

I've been wanting to do this post for a really long time now, just never worked up the gut for it.

As you may recall back in Season VI of the DC RPG, the Joker and the rest of the Dark Alliance had themselves a bit of a field day with all the heroes' lives, attacking family members, bombing their cities, etc. It all culminated with the big titanic brawl between the Justice League and Brainiac/Doomsday, but the real story was the Joker finally killing Batman. Superman was the first on the scene, and it drove me nuts that there was no real satisfactory way to resolve it. Obviously, I couldn't just outright kill the Joker, but letting him get away after doing all of the godawful things he did throughout that Season just seemed unconscionable. Eventually, I settled on Supes giving the Joker a lecture on how Batman wouldn't have wanted Joker dead, but I was still never really satisfied with it. In the end, the Joker got away, and I felt that it make Supes look like a putz.

So now that I've had some time to stew about it, and since the Create-a-post thread lets me do this without interfering with any other continuity, I think it's time to show how I would have ended it. Also, since it's my birthday, this little exercise in self-satisfaction is just a little present from me to me.

So, picking up from here....

http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b73/nowhereman716/NewLogo.jpg

"Superman to all points...Batman is dead."

Words I had hoped I would never have to say, but in the back of my head, always halfway expected. Brainiac had just killed my worst enemy. Now, his war has killed my best friend.

I can barely stand to look at him; the tears blur my vision anyway. I want to scream...to curse Heaven for taking my friend...to break this planet in half and be done with it...but all I can do is drop to my knees and cry.

Bruce was everything the human race was capable of becoming, had worked to stand up to gods while the rest of us pretended to be normal people. And while he never allowed to admit it, I could see his soul was fiercely bright, beaming with the best of his people's potential. I'd like to think that if I didn't have my powers, I would still have been even half the man that Batman was.

Now, all I see is his remains, and so much blood spattered across the ground...

...and the knife that had been discarded at the scene.

Then I remember the man in the street, and it finally sinks in what he had done...and why he wasn't smiling anymore. If Bruce's war on crime was at an end, I'll be damned if I'm going to let him get away.

I get up and walk out into the street, calling out to the shriveled husk that was once the Joker.

"I've got every reason in the world to kill you. Just give me one reason why I shouldn't.

The Joker stopped in the middle of the street when he heard the voice calling behind him. For a moment he just stood there, hovering on the spot, his back turned to the source of this challenge. As if he had to summon the will to even turn around. But eventually, he did, and faced the owner of the voice.

Superman. The Joker had killed hundreds of people in his city. Not too long ago, he'd found that funny. Now, he felt nothing. With utter indifference, as if in a trance, he stared unblinkingly at The Man of Steel. He took a moment to ponder his request, as if giving it serious consideration. Then, he slowly shook his head, defeated.

"I...honestly can't think of a reason. Not a single one."

A long pause hangs between us as the truth of what he said sinks in. The Joker has no redeeming qualities, no family or friends that will miss him, no legacy other than one of terror and mass-murder. If I let him go, he'll just kill again. If I lock him up, he'll find a way to escape. He always does.

In the back of my head, I scramble for a way to avoid it, for someone to talk me down from doing this. Lois would convince me that it's not worth it, that what I'm about to do will hurt Metropolis more than his Venom Bomb did. Kara would convince me that it goes against everything I've taught her, against the example that I've set out to be. Bruce would convince me that I'd be stepping over the only line that separates us from them.

But Kara isn't here. Lois isn't here. And Bruce...isn't here, either.

There is only the Joker and me, and the horrible truth of what has to happen.

I close my eyes, and feel the heat of a thousand suns build up behind my eyelids. In the distance, the explosive din of the battle between Brainiac and my friends roars, but I don't hear it. I draw inwards, trying to separate myself from what is happening.

"Forgive me."

It's only when those words escape my lips that I realize I'm not saying it to the Joker. I'm saying it to Bruce.

I open my eyes...

...and I burn the Joker away into nothing.

I stand there for what feels like years. A chill wind blows through the ruined alley, sweeping up a cloud of dust in its path. A deafening thunderclap reminds me of the battle still raging on elsewhere in the city, and I leave all of this behind me.

I'm sorry, I say, hoping Bruce can hear me. Forgive me.

Saved

07-16-2009, 11:06 PM

In reality, I do like Aquaman. I just like to spoof on him a lot, and they say that's the best way to honor someone sometimes. This is done with much thanks to Mort Weisinger and Paul Norris.

Inspired by a chat I had with Master Bruce.

"Everybody Hates Arthur"

http://i186.photobucket.com/albums/x90/Edge_027/08206663066181.gif

Justice League Watchtower

The Justice League congregates inside the conference room of the Watchtower. Each member sits around the oval table, clad in their tight and colorful costumes. They sit in silence - patiently waiting for the last member to arrive.

Superman stands firm at the end of the table like a statue; ever vigilant, the man of steel refuses to sit - on call at all times. Wonder Woman sits in her chair elegantly, simply staring off into the distance, consumed by her own thoughts as she reverently waits. Beside her, J'onn J'onzz meditates - deep in a meditation as he lets his psychic powers rest. On the other side of Wonder Woman, Green Lantern leans his head on his hand. He frowns slightly; irritated deeply to be kept waiting when a whole galaxy requires his valiant watch.

Across the table, the remaining two members sit next to each other. The Batman leans back in his chair, his arms folded tightly across his chest. He is a patient man - able to wait out anything. To his right, the Flash resides, resting his head on the table as he taps his fingers with incredible speed. The constant rapping of his fingers against the table tops is annoying, but easily ignored.

After a few more moments of only quiet, a single voice speaks up - his patience finally reaching its breaking point. "What's taking him!?" The Flash exclaims loudly, spring up from the table.
"Be patient, Wally." Superman says in a calming voice. "He'll be here."
"Yeah, whatever..." he says with a grimace.

Suddenly, the doors to the room open with a hiss as the hydraulic mechanism's gears turn and grind. A man walks through the door, his breath rapid, a look of embarrassment on his face. "Sorry, guys." He says apologetically. "There was a crisis in the South Pacific." He rushes to the open chair at the end of the table and takes a seat, eagerly awaiting the briefing. It is Arthur Curry, Aquaman - lord of the seas.

"So nice of you to join us, fishface." Flash frowns. "What took you?"
"A whale got beached on the shores of California," he explains with a proud smile. "Needless to say, we got her back in the ocean with minor incident."
"That's why you kept us waiting?" Green Lantern says in a harsh voice. "For a damn fish?"
"Um, actually whales are mammals," he corrects. Lantern stews, ready to lash out in anger.
"Alright," Superman says, interjecting and diffusing the situation. "If no one else has anything important to say...then let's get on with the matter at hand." As Superman prepares to continue, Arthur raises his hand and clears his throat. "...Yes, Aquaman?" Superman says in a heavy voice.

"Yeah, I've got something to say." He says, lowering his arm. "I keep finding dead fish heads on my lawn. ... Now, I don't care who's doing it but I'm asking nicely - stop it, please." He says, his voice slightly whinny. Flash stifles laughter, holding his hand over his mouth tightly. As Arthur notices, Wonder Woman suddenly speaks.
"Wait, you have a lawn?" She asks curiously. "I though you lived in the ocean?"
"I have a summer house on the coast." He explains adamantly. "What, I can't enjoy the seashore from a different perspective once and awhile?"
"...wait, how do you pay for it?" Lantern inquires.
"I have a job."
"...you do?" He says with a look of confusion. "Where?"
"...a place." He replies vaguely, trying not to answer the question.
"He works at Fish on a stick!" Flash blurts out, falling into deep laughter.

"What?!" The group gasps.
"You work at a fish restaurant?" Wonder Woman asks in surprise.
"What was all that crap about 'preserving the ocean'?" Batman says, speaking up.
"No, no, no." Arthur says, waving his hands. "They don't serve real fish. The manager assured me that it's all tofu."
"...Tofu fish?"
"Yeah. You know, meat substitute." He explains.
"...Arthur," Batman begins, starting slow. "Tofu is a red meat substitute. There's no such thing as fish tofu."
"Yeah there is," he says with a chuckle. "I've seen it, it's all orange and pink. Heh, it's even got the fake bones in there too."
"...tofu is white, Arthur."
"And it's boneless."
"...what?" He says with a gasp, his jaw dropping. "Oh my God...oh my God- ... all those fish. All those...innocent souls ... "

"Oh, boy," Flash says, rolling his eyes. "Here we go."
"POSEIDON! Why have you FORSAKEN me!"
"Calm down, Aquaman!" J'onn says, coming too - his meditation broken. "They were just fish."
"Just fish?!" Aquaman growls, slamming his fist to the table. "They weren't just fish. They were living, breathing creatures! What if I killed some humans, huh? Grilled them up and ate them! Would they be just humans?!"
"No," Batman says strongly. "They have souls."
"And fish don't?! They have brains, Batman. They THINK! I've heard their thoughts myself. I've talked to them!"

"You're hurting your argument right there, Arthur." Flash interjects. "Anything that would talk to you clearly has no brain."
"Or sense." Batman grins slightly.
"Oooh, nice one Bats." Flash smiles widely. As the mockery continues, Aquaman stews, his anger seething; causing his blood to boil.
"How dare you!" He roars, his teeth grinding together. "You mock my subjects!?"
"Hey, at least I don't cook 'em, Aqua-chef." Flash smirks. Aquaman breathes in deeply, preparing to launch into a rage-filled rage. Superman quickly interrupts once more - changing the subject.

"Alright, enough!" He says commandingly, getting every one's attention. "Flash, let it go. Upsetting Arthur is only wasting time."
"Fine," he grumbles.
"Thank you, Superman." Aquaman says, his voice now more relaxed. He leans down and takes his seat in an orderly fashion.
"Uh-huh," Superman says with a sigh. "Now, in the future try to be here on time, okay?" He asks politely. Aquaman nods.
"My apologies, once again, Superman. It won't happen again."

"Alright, good." Superman says with a stern look. "Now, Luthor has been plotting to-"
"Um, Superman?" Arthur interrupts, raising his arm and catching Superman's attention. Clark sighs heavily and pauses his speech.
"Yes?" He asks in an irritated tone.
"In all seriousness, who ever is putting those fish heads on my lawn needs to stop. Not only is it celebrated murder but its stinking up my yard and scaring the neighbors." A large moan goes throughout the room as Flash again smiles wide.
"Alright, really, Aquaman?" Superman asks in a disgusted voice.
"What?" He asks honestly. "It's lowering the property value and I live in a very desirable area."

"Okay, that's it." Superman growls gruffly. "You know my heat vision, Arthur?"
"Well, yes. It's a valuable asset in battle."
"Uh-huh, and you know how powerful it can be if I were to let it loose and just unleash it, right?"
"Yeah." Arthur responds, playing along.
"Alright, so imagine if I let it loose in the ocean and did it long enough to raise the temperature of the entire ocean just one degree. What would happen?"
"Well," Aquaman says, pondering slightly as he puts his finger to his chin and rubs thoughtfully. "Then millions of marine life would die."
"Exactly," Superman says, his eyes squinting in frustration. "Keep that in mind next time I tell you to shut up. Got it?" Arthur suddenly becomes quiet, a look of sheer shock on his face. He slowly leans back in his chair and slouches, embarrassed and disconcerted. Superman nods his head and takes a deep breath.

"Alright, so like I was saying-" he pauses, turning to Aquaman and giving him a harsh glare. "Luthor is building an army of kryptonite based robots in a secret base somewhere. As you can imagine, I'm gonna need some help on this one. Batman, you said you know the location of the base?"

"Yes," he says in a deep bellow. "It's in the Sahara Desert. I'll lead the team there and aid in the disassembling of the robots." Batman says surely.
"I can run in and swipe the K from the robots so you're able to fight, big blue." Flash says with a salute.
"I'll take the kryptonite and send it out into space, far out of reach to be a problem." Green Lantern says with a nod.
"I can mentally subdue Luthor and keep him from trying any more tricks while you take care of the robots."
"And I'll fight by your side to the end, Clark." Wonder Woman smiles.

"Alright, then our tasks are settled." Superman says as he brings the meeting to a close.
"Well, wait-" Aquaman says, leaning forward. "What do I do?"
"...It's in the Sahara," Superman says, mulling over his options. "I don't think you can do much good. Looks like you'll have to sit this one out."
"No, no." Aquaman persists. "I'm useful! I have super strength and stamina! I'll bash away at the robots and clear a path." He says in a stoic voice. Superman makes an indecisive noise of skepticism.
"I don't know... if you're not near water you'll lose power and become a liability."
"No I won't!" He says reassuringly. "Come on, I can help you guys!"

"Hmm...alright," Superman says, won over by Aquaman's persistence. "You can watch the Tower while we fight."
"Oooh, and make sure Days of our Lives tapes," Flash says in a concerned tone. "If I miss what happened to Chloe and Mel in the tornado I'll have a melt down."
"Alright," Superman says in a heroic voice, cutting Aquaman off before he can object. "Justice League, move out!"

Eddie Brock

07-19-2009, 12:52 AM

With a strained heave, I pull myself through the window. Every inch of my body aches. I collapse on the floor with a loud thud. Wincing, I struggle to pull myself to my feet. Tonight wasn't the most productive of nights. My arms and legs are marked with multiple knife wounds, and a bullet is lodged in my side. In short, I took a beating - my first of this campaign. I don't know what hurts more: the pain or the fact that they now know I can be hurt.

My thoughts are interrupted by hurried footsteps. I scramble frantically, but my body is too sore to move quickly. I'm kneeling when the door swings open. Alfred is standing in the doorway, frying pan in hand. It would almost be laughable if I wasn't in such a compromising position. "Who the blazes are you?" he asks angrily. His eyes are filled with the same terror I recognize in the eyes of my opponents.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," I growl as I remove my cowl. I drop the reinforced piece of cloth to the carpeted floor as I stand up. Alfred is speechless. I don't blame him. "Tell me," I begin, "How much of your first aid training do you remember?"

Alfred lowers the frying pan. "Bruce?" His eyes dart back and forth, searching for an explanation other than the obvious one. Failing to find it, he asks, "You're this Bat character? I...I don't believe it."

"I'll explain everything in a minute, Alfred," I promise. I remove my hand from my side to let him see the blood staining my costume. His eyes widen at the sight. "Right now, I could really use some help." My knees begin to buckle.

"Of course." Alfred drops the frying pan and dashes off into the hallway. I fall to the floor, groaning in pain. Each time I close my eyes, I picture my parents. I roll over pointedly, and stinging sensations run up and down my torso. A moment later, Alfred reappears holding a small metal box. He kneels by my side and begins cleaning my gunshot wound.

As he works, I ask, "Have you ever felt like you had to do something - no matter how crazy it sounded?" Alfred tugs on my costume's seam and rips it open. The blood flows more freely from my wound. I roll my head around, trying my best to remain conscious.

"As a matter of fact, I have," Alfred answers honestly. He sticks his finger into the wound, and I groan involuntarily. Alfred continues cleaning it out with a handkerchief. "Joining the war," he explains. "But don't try to tell me this is the same as that." He begins wetting a cotton ball with alcohol.

"Can't you see that they are, though, Alfred?" I plead. Regardless of how it may seem at times, no one understands how crazy this "mission" of mine seems more than me. I scream as Alfred presses the cotton ball against the wound. "I'm fighting a war here. It's just as real as the War in Europe. And, like the war, certain tactics must be employed to guarantee victory."

Alfred rolls his eyes and searches the first aid kit. My heart drops when I see him examining a pair of tweezers in the light. "So, in order to fight crime, you have to dress up like a giant bat?" he asks skeptically.

"Well, it didn't necessarily have to be a bat, but I thought the imagery was fitting." I wince as Alfred digs the tweezers into my wound. Nothing in this world could possibly prepare you for that feeling. "You said it yourself: Gotham is crazy. Sometimes you have to accept that if you can't beat 'em--" I pause as the pain and discomfort makes it impossible to continue. Alfred twists the tweezers a different way, and I stop seeing spots. "--you have to join them."

With a grunt, Alfred tugs on the tweezers and yanks them out of my side. He managed to pull out the bullet. He immediately puts pressure on my wound, which had started to bleed more profusely. "Don't you think this is taking it a little far? I mean, look at yourself!"

Obeying, I lift my head and examine my battered body. It is a hefty price to pay.

"Look, your business is your business," Alfred announces, freeing himself from liability. "But a few more nights like this, and you'll be lying dead in an alley." He points to my bleeding wound. "You're damned lucky that bullet didn't nick your spleen, or you'd be explaining it to a doctor in the emergency room right now."

I laugh, and it causes me to wince once more. "Well, Alfred, you did say that you wanted a way to repay me for my hospitality."

Eddie Brock

07-19-2009, 08:16 PM

Jeremiah Arkham's Asylum is located on the far outskirts of Gotham. It was originally a sanatorium during a major tuberculosis scare in the late nineteenth century. After being closed, the sanatorium and accompanying land were purchased by Jeremiah Arkham. His sister, Elizabeth, suffered from mental illness for much of her life. Jeremiah converted the old sanatorium into a place where people like Elizabeth could seek treatment. It is more popular now as a comfortable alternative to prison.

In a place like the Asylum - where half the inmates actually are insane, and the other half are mobsters pretending to be - a man like Carmine Falcone is king. Even the staff respects and, to a certain extent, fears Falcone's power. That is why, on days like today, if Falcone requests time alone with Johnny Viti - one of his most trusted lieutenants - no one dares object.

"What's the word?" Falcone grumbles. The dark circles under his eyes testify to the lack of sleep he's gotten in the Asylum. His time inside has been more trying than he expected. Had he known how draining the "crazies" could be, he might have given more thought to going to Blackgate.

Viti shifts in his chair, a coy smile on his lips. He's happy with himself, and he can't wait to see how Falcone responds. "I found someone that can help us with our Bat problem," Viti explains excitedly. The Bat-Man had only been around a few weeks, but he was already systematically tearing through the Falcone crime family. It was giving everyone a headache.

Falcone leans forward interestedly. "You found someone?" He was surprised. Johnny Viti was a great many things, but he seemed to lack ambition. He never went out and did things for himself. His dedication to getting rid of the Bat-Man was promising.

"Well, he found me," Viti admits. He licks his lips excitedly. "This guy, he has quite the résumé. And - for the kind of reward he's asking for - it's a steal!" Admittedly, Viti was initially skeptical about this assassin's willingness to work for almost nothing. He had assured Viti, however, that it wasn't about the money. It was about the bragging rights that would come with killing the Bat-Man.

Falcone hesitated. "I want to know he's legitimate," he explains cautiously. "If we hire some dumb mook, and he gets himself caught, that could look very bad for us." The last thing Falcone needed was an "attempted murder" charge on his rap sheet. He was having a hard enough time wiggling out of this situation as it was. "You find him, and you tell him I want proof."

***

Johnny Viti couldn't get to Falcone's cell fast enough. Rounding the corner, he nearly runs into a guard. Viti explains that he was going to see Falcone, and the guard steps out of his way. Viti continues his hurried pace down the corridor, folded newspaper in hand. Finally, he finds himself at the door to Falcone's cell. "Roman! Roman! He did it," Viti announces through shortened breaths.

A guard opens the door for Viti, and he bursts into the cell. Falcone, who was sitting on his bed, stands up alertly. "What? What is it?" Falcone asks irritably. Another night of limited sleep has made him cranky. He walks up to Viti and takes the newspaper from his hands. "What's this?"

"He did it!" Viti repeats once more. Falcone looks down and notices the headline. His head jerks back up and he stares Viti in the eyes. "I spoke to him yesterday. I told him everything you said, and he did it. He gave you proof."

"MAYOR HILL MURDERED!"

Falcone is at a loss for words. Viti leans over the paper and points frantically at a circled section. "He left a calling card to prove it was him. The cops don't know what it means, but he's talking to us!" Viti's beaming broadly. Falcone looks at him, then back at the paper.

"...the only piece of evidence the police were able to obtain from the crime scene was a small playing card - a Joker, to be specific. On the face of the card, an inscription was written in a barely legible font. It read:

'BELIEVE ME NOW?"

The police were unable to comment on the message's meaning."

Falcone lowers the paper in disbelief. This assassin that Viti had found, he had managed to kill the Mayor of Gotham without getting caught - without even being noticed! Falcone hadn't seen such precision and expertise before. It was breathtaking. It also left him with an ominous chill. From the moment the words left his mouth, Falcone regretted saying, "Hire him."

Catman_prb

09-26-2009, 02:30 PM

So I was trawling through the old threads up here and, well...this occured. For those that don't know, A.J.Raffles was the opposite of Holmes, a gentleman thief if you will.

The year is 1916 and Europe is in the throws of war. The British Empire, ruled by the old and wise Queen Victoria, battles Germany on it's Western Front. France has already fallen to the vicious Hun, although the Americas and Russia's strange new government have declined to intervene. Amongst the chaos of the war, a group of British citizens disguised as Germans, make their way through Berlin.

"That's the second patrol of Frankenstein's...abominations that we have passed this hour," Van Helsing muttered "I'm sure that we are discovered,"

"Hush, my dear doctor," Elizabeth hissed, brushing her long hair out of her eyes, and trying desperately not to raise her voice.

"Miss Lavensa, Doctor Van Helsing, if the two of you don't remain quiet and calm then I shall be forced to gag you for the remainder of this trip," Mr. Raffles said, inspecting the lock on the door.

"I still can't quite believe it, even now. Such creatures as these littering the world," Elizabeth said.

"Indeed, it is a most fascinating occurance, and they are becoming even more apparant as of late," Van Helsing enthused "Though I can only claim to be a talented amateur,"

"Well Mrs Harker certainly thought that we were the most appropriate people for the job," Raffles said, his voice muffled due to one of the many picks that were currently held in his teeth "Mr. Hyde was certainly very disappointed to to be accompanying you Elizabeth,"

Lavensa sniffed and tilted her head a measure "I'm not entirely sure what use I can be on this quest of ours,"

"Oh, I'm sure Mrs Harker has some idea. She certainly seems like a woman who's very aware of all the facts," Raffles said, a trace of bitterness in his voice, as the door swung inwards.

Van Helsing picked up his doctor's bag, bringing up the rear as the trio entered the dark caverns of the Reichstag.

"Oh yes, whatever happened to that...travelling companion of yours?" Van Helsing asked with a smirk on his face.

"That would be my business, and none of your concern," Raffles said through gritted teeth.

"You seem to have picked the single most dusty and ill-used part of the entire building, Mr. Raffles," Elizabeth said, traces of her accent obvious in her voice.

"That was entirely the point," Raffles said witheringly.

The small group walked through the cavernous cellars of the Reichstag in compartive silence. Twice they were almost caught by patrolling German soldiers, although both times Raffles ensured that they were hidden behind certain objects. Using the light from a match, Elizabeth Lavensa looked through the door into every room that they passed. Eventually she let out something between a sigh and a sob and burst into the room. Sharing a confused look the two men followed her.

"Oh my dear Victor," she cried "What have they done to you?"

The thing that she referred to as Victor was a sallow, skeleton of a man, naked save for a ragged piece of cloth that was wrapped around his shoulders like a shawl. His filthy frame shook as Elizabeth held him against her breast.

"I didn't know," he whispered "I didn't know, I didn't know, I didn't know,"

He said it over and over again, a mantra to his own insanity. He looked into her face and there was a brief spark of recognition.

"How could I know? I didn't mean to-Oh God I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..." he sobbed, tears making clean tracks through his dirt encrusted face.

"Hush my darling," Elizabeth said soothingly, her own eyes tearful now.

"I wanted to create life, I wanted to make it better. I thought I could save people, I thought I could, I thought I could," he muttered, a muscle under his eye twitching "It's alive. It's alive! IT'S ALIVE!"

The madman started screaming, and the two men span around at the sound of footsteps hammering down on the corridor outside.

"Die zelle des ungeheuers!"

"What did they say?" Van Helsing asked, panicked.

"I don't speak bloody Hun!" Raffles growled, trying to drag Elizabeth away from the madman. Instead she merely shook off his hands, rocking backwards and forwards with Victor's head in her lap.

Giving up, the two men sped out of the cell, hiding in an alcove a few short steps away as the German guards made their way into the cell. There were two short rifle retorts and the screaming stopped.

"My God," Van Helsing breathed after the guards walked away, dragging a body with them.

"Let's not give up now Abraham," Raffles said sincerely "Orlok's room must be here somewhere,"

"But they'll be turned into those...monsters," the Dutchman whispered.

"Yes, and it is up to us to prevent another breed of monsters from taking roost here, like Russia," Raffles said as the pair hurried down the corridor, lighting another match.

"So it's true," Van Helsing said "Count Dracula is really the creature behind Rasputin's party,"

Raffles raised an eyebrow.

"You know Dracula?" he asked. Van Helsing waved a hand.

"We've met once," he muttered.

Eventually they came to Count Orlok's room. The windows were boarded up and in the centre, just a little away from the desk, was an oak wood coffin. Van Helsing opened up his doctor's bag, pulling out a hammer that he passed to Raffles. He himself held a large wooden stake. Between the two of them, they lifted the lid off the coffin and set it gently on the ground.

The most powerful thing was the stench. It was impossible to tell if it was the slightly damp earth that lay at the bottom of the coffin, or the skeletal thing that lay there in deep sleep. It resembled something between a rat and a spider, spindly fingers splayed across it's chest, beady eyes closed. Van Helsing pressed the tip of the stake against it's heart and nodded to Raffles, closing his eyes slightly. The gentleman theif slammed the hammer down, knocking it through his heart. The monster's eyes opened and it screamed something unearthly. For a second it seemed as though it was covered entirely in a sickly flame, and it's spiderlike hands clawed at Van Helsing's face. The Dutch doctor dutifully held the stake in place, and eventually the monster turned to dust and ashes.

The pair were silent for a second, though the doctor was visibly shaking.

"I'm getting far too old for this," he whispered.

"Let's get going Doctor," Raffles said "Hook said he'd be waiting when we're done,"

Blacklight

03-06-2010, 02:12 AM

Prelude

"Parker? Parker, wake the f*** up!"

"Hnn... 5 more minutes, Aunt May..."

"Parker, get up before I put a damn bullet through your head..."

"Wh-what? What happened?"

"On your feet, Parker. We need your help..."

My body. It was so racked with pain. After a few seconds, my vision started to become less blurred and began to focus. I noticed that I was lying on the ground. New York was in shambles, and there was smoke and fire all around me.

Then it all started to come back to me. The Hulk... Dr. Strange... That Dormammu thing... A huge explosion. Then black.

As the pain started subsiding, I heaved myself back up and stood upright.

I turned around and saw Strange's house burnt to a cinder. Guess that stuff about Hulk making Strange's house blow up wasn't a dream. But then it hit me...

"Wait... Fury!?! How the hell did you escape that alternate dimension!?!"

"I'll explain all that later, kid... For now, we need your help. We're gonna bring the fight back to Magneto." Fury said as he handed me back my mask before I put it back on.

"Whose 'we'?"

"That'd be us..."

http://www.dynamicforces.com/images/C112565.jpg

Looking at Captain America, Iron Man, Hawkeye and Fury all standing before me amongst the rubble, I could only say one thing.

"Hmm... A nut, a drunk and an emo. Looks like you've assembled a crack team, chief..."

"Can it, Parker. The X-Men and Fantastic Four are already en route to the Citadel. In the meantime, we're gonna storm through Magneto's defenses and take back that f***in' hammer."

"Barging into the home of one of the world's most powerful muatnts armed with a weapon created by the gods themselves? Great. Sounds like a typical Sunday to me..."

"Sorry to interrupt, Gentlemen, but can we finish up the pleasantries here and get going?"

Just then a giant jet landed down behind them. On the side, the word "Quinjet" was emblazoned above it's wing.

Looks like I'm gonna have to follow the yellow brick road on this one...

"Lead the way, Tin Man..."

Blacklight presents The Ultimate Universe in

ULTIMATUM: HOW IT SHOULD'VE ENDED...

Rain Dog

03-06-2010, 11:22 AM

Didn't know this thread existed. Anyways, I mentioned in the FtPo recruitment thread that I had at one point considered joining as Frank N. Furter (for laughs more than anything else), after being kind of inspired by my avy. I was gonna have this gimmick where each of my posts would contain at least 1 song, since Rocky Horror is a musical and all. Anyways, I typed up a sample post that I was to use for my application but I never filled out the rest of the app after I decided not to join. This would have been my sample and opening post:

OOC: Green = Narrator/Criminologist, Gold= Rocky Horror, a creation, Black = Phantoms (omnipresent ghosts that provide harmonies & backup vocals)

IC:
The two bodies were anchored to the bottom of the swimming pool, entombed in a mountain of rubble. The corpses were dressed similarly—tattered, soggy, flamboyant corsets, fishnet stockings, and high heels—but the bodies themselves were very different. One was a hideous, molding, water-logged corpse. It’s dark, drenched, frizzy hair flowed wildly in the water, like thousands of thin black tendrils twirling and swaying in every which direction. It was a man of slight build, with pasty, decaying flesh beginning to drip off the slender muscles. The other body, despite being blasted, crushed and drowned, was at the pith of perfection—bulging, perfect muscles, bronze skin, and silky golden hair. One would never guess he had been dead for quite some time. Then something happened. The body that would make Atlas himself envious…twitched. Then, splashed. Then, thrashed...

…and opened its eyes.

“huuhhhhhh…..Oooh!
I knooow how it feels
To be… coolin’ my hee-eels
I’ve been down on them…
Long enough!

But if I taaake to them na-how,
Then may-be somehow-ow
You’ll see through the bluff.
I’m not plaaay-ying it tough!!!

I’ve been a lifetime on deposit,
And that’s a long time in the closet!!!
And if you say to me:”

“HOW WAS IT?”

“It was hard- taking
That heart-breaking,
God forsaken route!
But I’m:”

“BUH BUH BUH BUH BA-DUH”

“BREAKING OUT!

You may say that you’d chose
To be…in my shoes
But look what it…did for me!
I got buried ali-ive!
And I don’t thrive for that jive!
Look and you’ll see
THAT THE SPIKES DON’T FIT ME!!!

I’ve been a lifetime on deposit,
And that’s a long time in the closet!!!
And if you say to me:”

“HOW WAS IT?”

“It was hard-taking
That heart-breaking,
God forsaken route!
But I’m:”

“BUH BUH BUH BUH BA-DUH”

“BREAKING OUT!”

“BREAKING OUT!”

“BREAKING OUT!!!”

“BREAKING OUT!!”

“BREAKING OUT!”

“BREAKING OUT!!”

“Iiiii’mmm BRRREEEAKING OOOUUUT!!!”

The Olympian figure leapt out of the pool, the moldy corpse of his creator slung over his back, and ran off into the night.

OOC: Here is a rendition of the song in my post: _kIZSv3MJnM

The Question

03-06-2010, 03:18 PM

The creation of the All Star Marvel RPG kind of coincided with me reflecting, from a narrative standpoint, on reboots and "ultimizations." I sort of reached a conclusion about them, specifically about how I felt about them. I like them. I like them a lot. But I don't like it when they're sole purpose is to make older characters hip and extreme. I see their purpose, what they should be trying to accomplish, as something similar to what T.H. White did with Aurthurian lore on The Once and Future King: Taking a character and mythos who's stories, by virtue of having been made by hundreds of writers over the years, are all over the place in terms of tone and often quite contradictory, and condensing it into one, concise narrative with a central thematic arc that stays true to the essence of the character and the mythos. With that in mind, I worked on an idea for an All Star Spider-Man with Wonder Years style narration. This is a revised version of my sample post, which serves as the prologue:

It's winter. The dry, cold, windy kind of winter New York often has in the weeks after New Years, much more reminiscent of a grave than of Christmas trees and roasting chestnuts. Fully aware of this, Sarah Bishop climbs up to the roof of her apartment building and embraces the pain.

Immediately, all thoughts besides the cold vanish. Annoyance would normally follow soon after, but she is far too nervous to be annoyed. Here she is, with only two years as a journalist and one book under her belt, about to meet, to work with, one of the most famous men in the city.

She looks at her watch, anxiously, and pulls out her papers, checking over her notes and research. She wants to be ready when he...

She jumps and falls on her back in the snow when she hears a soft thud behind her.

She hears a man's voice, muffled by a thin layer of fabric.

"I'm sorry, didn't mean to startle you,"

A gloved hand reaches down for hers and helps her to her feet.

"You okay?" he asks.

"I'm fine..." she says, her voice trailing off. She doesn't know what to say. She barely knows what to think, other than it's him.

"Web swinging's not always exact. Can't always land right where you want to. Or very gently. Again, I'm really sorry."

"It's... it's alright."

She can't help but notice that, up close, his costume looks obviously home made. In the pictures, where he's moving, right in the thick of things, it looks appropriately superhuman. But in person, she can see the stitching, that it's made of what looks like pretty cheap cotton, and that the lenses appear to have been cannibalized from a pair of ski goggles.

"So," he asks, "where do we begin?"

She remains silent as she thinks that over for a few seconds.

"Why are we on the roof?"

"Well, that..." he says. He wanders over to the edge of the roof.

"Come over here" he calls back to her.

She slowly moves herself over to the side, increasingly mindful of the height.

"Look down," he says.

"I'd rather not."

"The reason I wanted to meet up here is... it's about perspective. You're not going to be able to help me write the book is you don't know what things are like from my point of view. And some things I can't explain to you. Look down."

She peeks over the edge. She's very quickly hit by a sense of vertigo and begin to lose her balance, the panic that causes only making things worse.

"Woah there," he says, steadying her with his right hand. "It's scary at first. You get used to it. That's the point."

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.

"I have a question, sir."

"Oh, Jesus, you're making me feel old."

"I'm sorry..."

"I mean, I am old, but you don't have to draw attention to it."

"Heh. Right. But, I'm curious... why do you need me?"

"I like how you write."

"Thank you. But what I'm asking is... there have been dozens of biographies made about you. You've given hundreds of interviews. And you've said that more than a few of them are accurate."

"Yes..." he says. For a brief moment, he stares down at the street below, quietly. He seems like he's looking for words somewhere out in the city.

"I have a story to tell."

"But..."

"They got the facts right. But it was never my story, it was always a story about me. Everyone was focused on figuring me out and explaining all the ways I changed New York forever. I don't like that. My story isn't about me, it's about what I've witnessed and the people who made me who I am. No one knows about so many great people who are apart of that story. It doesn't belong to me. It belongs to New York if anything. The old gal's been through a lot and I just happened to be there for some of it and helped out where I could."

"Oh..." she says, not sure how to respond.

"And I picked you because the way you write... you focus on the small details that make things happen. You understand how everything's connected and how it's not just about the major players. You see the web, pardon the pun."

She smiles.

"Thank you," she says.

"You're welcome. I don't give compliments I don't mean. So what should we talk about first?"

"Well... I mean, I've never helped someone write an autobiography before, but I guess you should figure out a good place to start the book from. I'll take notes if you want to just talk for a while."

"Alright," he says. "Good place to start. Huh."

His gaze drifts towards the city streets again. The pause is shorter this time.

"I did a decade and a half of living before I became a super hero. But... well, I guess when things got interesting, at least from my point of view... where the real story starts... well, it all started when I was fifteen years old..."

The Question

03-06-2010, 03:32 PM

Catman_prb

03-06-2010, 03:38 PM

I must say, that is very impressive. I would love to do something similar, but I'd feel like I was utterly plagarising you.

SuperFerret

03-06-2010, 03:58 PM

I'm assuming that that particular Spider-Man is towards the end of his career, right?

The Question

03-06-2010, 04:04 PM

I'm assuming that that particular Spider-Man is towards the end of his career, right?

Yeah. The idea is that it's the story of a 15 year old Spider-Man when he first starts out being narrated by a 60 year old Spider-Man, who's identity is public and who's a member of The Avengers.

SuperFerret

03-06-2010, 04:08 PM

Nice idea.

Byrd Man

03-06-2010, 05:21 PM

So this is an idea Andy and I discussed during a late-night (late for me) bull session. Most of the credit goes to Andy, but I helped, dammit! :cmad:

Hulk and Brainiac at The Oscars

"Good evening, film fans of Earth. It is the eve of the presentation of the academy awards and, as always, I am here with my partner Hulk to deliver our picks as to who will bring home the Oscar. Welcome, Hulk. How are you this evening?

"HULK FINE!"

"Excellent. Let's begin things with the top category of Best Picture. We have ten nominees this year, quite a change from last year. I will say that my pick goes to The Hurt Locker, a tense well made movie about the dealings of a bomb disposal unit in Iraq. Very engaging movie and my favorite of 2009...Hulk?"

"HULK LIKE AVATAR'S GRAPHICS! PRETTY BLUE MEN MAKE HULK LAUGH!"

"Quite right, Hulk. Moving on to the next category. For Best Actor, we have the traditional five picks. My pick goes to Clooney. In Up in The Air his turn as a man at the crossroads of his life is excellent. It seems the character he plays mirrors Clooneys life to some extent, and his performance shows his true acting skills."

"HULK LIKE MORGAN FREEMAN!!!"

"I see your point, old friend. For Lead Actress For me, the award is Gaboruey Sidibie's to lose. In Precious, she really makes you feel that she has so much to overcome. It is an emotional, heartfelt and uplifting story of epic magnitude....if I had emotions, I am sure I would cry. Hulk?"

"HULK LIKES SANDRA BULLOCK'S BOOBS!"

"What a thrilling upset. Hulk is picking that a body part will win the award. The closest we've had to something like that was last year when Heath Ledger's corpse was awarded the prize. For Best Supporting Male, I will choose Christoph Waltz from Inglorious Basterds. One of the most revolting characters in cinema in past few years, but Waltz makes the Jew Hunter likable and charming."

"I believe my pick will be for Christopher Plummer in The Last Station. He plays Leo Tolstoy effectively and convincingly. The 80 year old Plummer has gained his first Oscar nomination, and I believe it should be his first win as well."

"Interesting...insight...are you alright?"

"I'm as right as rain, chum."

"Well, what's your pick for Best Supporting Actress?"

"HULK LIKE MO'NIQUE!"

"There he is. Will take this chance to go to break. When we come back, we'll go over our picks for the rest of the Oscar field, including Best Director."

"HULK LIKE QUENTIN TARANTINO!"

"Hulk! Don't give it away, yet! We'll back after this..."

SuperFerret

03-06-2010, 05:29 PM

Heath Ledger's corpse. :awesome:

Saved

03-06-2010, 08:12 PM

So this thread's alive again? Mh...I feel the urge for Episode 2 of Everybody hates Arthur...:ninja:

Andy C.

03-06-2010, 11:04 PM

This is a scene that's been kicking around in my head ever since the inception of All-Star Marvel, one I've been dying to write. Unfortunately, it wouldn't be usable for the game until somewhere around Season 4 or 5, and given the relative lifespans of the games, I doubt the game will last quite that long. So taken a little bit out of context, here's a glimpse of life for Spider-Man in the far future of the game:

Date Night:

"I hate this place," I mutter to myself as I slick back my hair in a futile gesture to make myself presentable. And it's absolutely true; I've hated this place for as long as I can remember. Sure, the scenery is beautiful, especially this time of year, but this place is full of painful things. Memories I'd rather not remember, people I'd rather not see.

Yet here I am, cheap suit and bad cologne. I may hate this place, but I always come. It's a special occasion, after all. Tonight is date night.

I sheepishly approach her, smiling weakly. Mary Jane Watson is undoubtedly my life and my heart, but there's still a little room in my soul for the girl I'm seeing tonight. I'm still a little amazed that MJ is cool with this; I won't lie and say I don't feel a little guilty about it. But like she said, I need this.

"H--...hey, um, long time no see," I say nervously as I sit down on the grass beside her. I always did have trouble starting a conversation with her- once we got started we could go on for hours, but at the start I was always all sputters and false starts. Today's no different.

"I bought some flowers to bring, but, ermm...Scorpion decided today was a good day to go Spider-Slaying with his crew. I managed to prove them wrong, but well, the flowers didn't make it. I guess it's for the best- I never did find out which ones were your favorite, so I just grabbed a bunch of random ones and figured the right one would be in there somewhere. Typical Parker logic, huh?"

I laugh at my own little bit of self-deprecation.

"Anyway, lot of stuff has been going on since our last date night, so I guess I oughta get you caught up. The Bugle offered me a full-time contract, freaking finally. Guess being nominated for a Pulitzer was enough to convince Jonah that I'm worth the cash. I didn't win it, but hey, nice to be nominated, right?

"I'm still doing the Spider-Man thing, too, and I actually am starting to make a name for myself. I'm even on the Avengers now!...as a reserve member, but still. Beats the days of knocking around Marko and O'Hirn with my stupid ski goggles. They're still around, too, same superpowers and everything. At least they're thinking like small-timers. Not like Octavius, or that Hobgoblin guy. I really don't like Hobgoblin. Reminds me of someone I liked even less...

"Oh, speaking of, I ran into Harry last week. He's....well, he's still pretty messed up. Saw him at some Oscorp event, and not ten minutes later he's in his old man's costume trying to kill me. I don't know how to help him, I just- ...poor guy was my best friend next to you, and now he's so screwed that I doubt I can ever really get him back. At least Eddie's coma keeps him unconscious so he doesn't know about all the awful things Venom is doing. Everyone from the old days is just....even me, I mean...

"Oh, I didn't tell you, did I? There's, like, a fifty-fifty chance that I'm not even the real Peter Parker. You remember Dr. Warren, the Jackal? Y'know, the guy who made..the kids. They're doing better, by the way. Sarah even paused for a second before trying to kill me last time, so I guess that's progress. I wish you could see them: screwed up and wrong as they are, they're still beautiful. They've both got your face, and my eyes. Just a shame they've got the hearts and minds of a vengeance-crazed mad scientist. I know I shouldn't enjoy hurting people, but I got a lot of satisfaction from beating the crap out of Warren."

There's a little bit of an edge to my voice when I think about the Jackal. Sure, Venom and Doc Ock have hurt me way more phsyically, and the Green Goblin and this new Hobgoblin guy have damaged my life in more ways than I can count, but Miles Warren actually screwed with my genetics...and more. He took the one perfect night my date and I had together, and turned it into something evil. And when that wasn't enough, he stole and copied my identity down to every level. Or at least, he copied Peter Parker's. And that's the thing that messes with me the most.

"Sorry, got a little off topic. So yeah, after Jackal finds out Spidey's on his trail, what does he do? Clones Peter Parker. Completely identical, same powers, only he goes one step further. He copies Peter's brainwave patterns, recreates the chemical pathways and neural connections that store memory and emotion. The clone has the same memories, same personality, same everything. We have a fight, and the whole place comes down around us. I survived, but the other one....didn't. And I don't know which one I am.

"Needless to say, it's been screwing with me ever since, but I've tried to come to terms with it. Like everything else, Mary Jane has been a huge help in keeping me halfway sane. At the very least, I don't wake up screaming in the dead of night quite as often anymore...

"...Well, I guess it's getting pretty late, and I need to get going," I say after a few minutes of just lying quietly with her, "Mary Jane said she's gonna try her hand at cooking tonight, so that should be...interesting. I know, you probably don't want to hear about me and MJ, but honestly, who else can I talk to about it? Things between me and her are still kinda...weird. I mean, mask and tights stuff aside, there's always the big elephaant in the room, the fact that this really isn't what either of us wanted. Still, I'm determined to make it work, because, well...I think I love her. I just didn't wanna admit it, because I thought it wouldn't be fair to you...but by doing that, I wasn't being fair to her either. Or to myself.

"I haven't forgotten my promise, though. Every time I put on my mask, every time I sling a web...I think about you. Every time.

"Anyway, I really do need to get going, but hey, it was...really great to talk to you again."

I stand up, place a kiss on my fingertips, then touch them to her headstone.

"Happy birthday, Gwen. Miss you. Love you. Always."

I wipe the tears from my eyes, swallow the lump in my throat, and start walking towards home.

Saved

03-07-2010, 12:32 AM

Inspired AGAIN by a chat I had with Master Bruce.

"Everybody Hates Arthur"

Part II

http://i186.photobucket.com/albums/x90/Edge_027/08206663066181.gif

Justice League Watchtower

Gathered within the meeting room of the intergalactic headquarters of the justice league watchtower, Earth's greatest heroes take their seats aroung the large table at the center of the room.

"Alright," Superman says, pausing for a moment as the heroes come to attention. "We've just recieved word from Black Canary and Green Arrow. After responding to the emergency alarm from Cadmus, they discovered Toyman and Mirror Master trying to steal the new geothermic techtonic stimulator. Mirror Master got away with the device, but they were able to apprehend Toyman."
"Uh, Superman?" Flash interjects, raising his hand high above his head.
"Yes?"
"What's a geothermic techtonic stimulator?"
"Due to the increase in earthquakes worldwide, Proffessor Kirby developed the machine to regulate the techtonic plates by causing opposing vibrations through the Earth's crust to stop the affects of aftershocks."
"So, essentially, it creates an earthquake to stop an earthquake?"
"Yes, exactly."
"But...that doesn't even make sense. You'd still be sending tremors in the other three directions, causing more destruction than the original quake would've. ... Who the hell would fund this?"

"Lex Luthor." Batman says in a grisly bellow. Flash leans back in his chair, slouching slightly as he folds his arms over his chest.
"Figures. Guess I owe Question an apology."
"Why?" Hal Jordon, the Green Lantern, asks curiously.
"He told me scientists were working on an earthquake machine. I thought it was just another one of his conspiracy theories. Guess I should listen to him more often."
"...you do know he thinks Hannah Montanna is Intergang's new leader, right?"
"Yes, Flash. Even a broken clock is right twice a day," Batman remarks objectively.
"Who taught you that one, Two Face?"

"Anyway," Superman shouts as he tries to restore order to the meeting. "Canary and Arrow interrogated Toyman and discovered the motive behind the theft. Apparently Black Manta has gathered a small group of villains together in the South Pacific. They're plotting to use the device to generate tsunamis that will wipe out the coastal cities of the world. Justice League, we have a situation." Superman takes a slight pause as his demeanor changes to a more stern and serious manner. "We have to call Aquaman."

The group suddenly errupts in a loud groan of disappointment.
"Aw, come on."
"No way, man. No."
"Yeah, Supes, why do we have to call Arthur?"
"We face a dire marine emergency, Flash. Aquaman's powers are water based, he's an invaluable asset."
"Yeah, in this instance." Hawkman grumbles under his breath.

"Yeah, but just because he's an asset doesn't mean we need him. We can handle this without him."
"Yes," Red Tornado agrees. "While Aquaman could provide constructive assistance, his presence is not required to achieve victory."
"See? SEE! Even the robot doesn't want him."
"Android."
"Android, whatever."

"Look, Arthur's a member of this team and he can be a great help in this current threat."
"But I don't want to call Aquaman," Flash whines childishly.
"Trust me," Batman starts, leaning forward slightly. "No one wants to call him."
"Oh, Come on, Arthur's not that bad."
"Clark, I'd rather have a picnic with the Joker than work with Aquaman."
"Well I can appreciate that," Flash says with a grin. "At least Joker would tell some funny jokes."
"Yes, that last joke he told about the mollusk and the anemonie was astoundingly terrible."
"What do you expect? The man talks to fish all day."

"Enough," Superman says, pounding his fist down on the table. "We're calling Aquaman and that's final." The sound of disgruntled mummbling circles the room as the group reluctantly complies. Superman puts his finger to the device resting inside his ear, opening a comlink with the network. "Oracle, patch me through to Aquaman."

The line begins to ring as Superman awaits a response from his aquatic ally. "Hello?" A voice says through the rough static on the other end.
"Arthur, it's Superman. We-"
"SUPERMAN!" Aquaman shouts loudly, cutting the man of steel off mid sentence. "How good it is to hear from you. How goes Metropolis?"
"Fine. Listen, Arthur-"
"Ah, good news. All goes well here in Atlantis. I've been teaching Blue Beetle in the ways of proper protocol here in the mighty seas of Posiedon."
"Wait, Jaime is with you?"
"Why, yes. He told me the League sent him here to apprentice under my tutelage for a month as part of his initiation."
"What? Who told him that?"

Flash bites his lip as he struggles to stiffle his aproarious laughter. Superman catches the sight out of the corner of his eye and lets out a heavy sigh. "Nevermind ... Anyway, the League needs your help."
"Great! I've been craving some action. What's the situation, old chum?"
"Black Manta's stolen a machine that generates earthquakes and plans to wipe out the coasts of the world. He's hiding somewhere in the ocean and we've got to stop him immediately. We'll rendezvous with you at Atlantis' gates in ten minutes."
"Black Manta! That nefarious fiend. Why, I remember the last time I fought him. It was in the chilled waters of the arctic, and there I was, all alone with-
"Right, gotta go, Arthur, see you there." Superman takes his finger off the earpiece and severs the comlink quickly.

Taking in a deep breath, he lowers his arm to his side and turns back toward the heroes at the table. "Alright, team, you know what we've got to do. We'll go to the teleporters and meet up with Arthur down on earth." The group rises to their feet and make their way toward the large automatic doors at the room's rear.
"Alright, I'll go..." Flash says reluctantly. Suddenly, he bolts across the room in a red haze, disappearing as he moves at speeds too fast for normal eyes to comprehend. He stops abruptly next to Batman, slowing his vibration as he reaches toward the caped crusaders belt. "But I'm borrowing your shark repellent spray, Bats." Batman's arm quickly flairs out, grabbing the Flash's arm before his fingers could touch the belt strapped tightly around his waist.
"Don't touch." Batman says sternly, crushing Flash's arm within his grasp.
"Ow, ow, ow." He whimpers, shaking his arm violently as he breaks free from the hold. "Alright, alright. Jeez, Bats, lighten up a bit."
"Maybe you should get serious, Wally."
"Okay, I'll make you a deal. I'll cut down on the jokes if you let me ride with you in your submarine."
"...why?" He asks suspiciously.
"The hull's pretty tight in there, right? You can't communicate with anyone except through your comlink." Flash grins, staring at Batman with a look of appreciation. "That means you can cut Arthur's comlink during the mission." Suddenly, Batman smiles, his expression catching the Flash by surprise.
"You know how the water interferes with our communicators."

"I knew there was a lot I could learn from you." The two heroes walk side by side as they head down the hallway after the rest of the group making their way toward the hanger as the rest of the group heads for the teleporters. "By the way," Flash says, breaking the silence. "Did I ever tell you how terrifying it is when you smile?"
"Once."
"Yeah, I'm gonna need a new suit."
"I think I have one of Robin's old suits in the ship."
"...you know, on second thought, I think I'm okay. ... Wait, Dick's or Tim's?"
"Dick's."
"...yeah, nevermind."

Andy C.

03-07-2010, 02:48 AM

God, it's good to see this thread back to life.

Major props to Byrd for actually writing out the Brainiac and Hulk at the Movies thing, we should totally do a collab and make that a regular thing. And Everybody Hates Arthur is quickly becoming how I wish the actual JLA comics were written, so :up: to Syn for that.

Now I expect the ****suckery to be repaid in full, so everyone tell me how great my last post was! I have a very fragile ego that thirsts for acknowledgement!

Blacklight

03-07-2010, 06:31 AM

God, it's good to see this thread back to life.

Maajor props to Byrd for actually writing out the Brainiac and Hulk at the Movies thing, we should totally do a collab and make that a regular thing. And Everybody Hates Arthur is quickly becoming how I wish the actual JLA comics were written, so :up: to Syn for that.

Now I expect the ****suckery to be repaid in full, so everyone tell me how great my last post was! I have a very fragile ego that thirsts for acknowledgement!
All those long hours of brain-icaining finally paid off, my friend.:up:

My only nitpick is you didn't reveal MJ's secret identity :awesome:

Harlekin

03-07-2010, 10:36 AM

She was just a small town girl, not cut out for the big city. It was midnight in New York and Cindy Reynolds was sick of living in her own lonely world. So she took the first train leaving the tracks, she didn’t care where it was going. To her, it was just the midnight train going anywhere.

The train left the station and the doors rattled. “I’m sorry, is this seat taken?” She shook her head and he sat across from her. They started talking, as travellers do. “I’m just a city boy, raised in South Detroit”, said Jason Rusch. “Where are you going?” she asked. “To me, this is just the midnight train going anywhere.”

Hours later, the train stropped, end of the line. Gotham City. Together, they stepped out onto the streets. In just one bar, the lights were still on. When they stepped in, there was only a singer in a smoky room. There was a smell of wine and cheap perfume. “For a smile, you can spend the night”, the barman said, pointing to the stairs, leading to rooms.

The singer kept singing: “And it goes on and on and on.”

Out of the single window in their room, Jason and Cindy could see the strangers waiting, up and down the boulevard. Two shadows were searching in the night. One dressed in all black, the other in bright green and red. For a second, the streetlight shone on these heroes, these people.
“Why are they out and about?” Jason asked.
“They’re living just to find emotion”, Cindy replied, closing the curtains.
“To me, it just looks like they’re hiding, somewhere in the night.”

The men outside watched as the lights went out. Then they returned their attentions to the men they held by their throats. Their fists were cocked back. The thieves were caught red-handed and were now pleading to be released.
“I was just working hard to get my fill”, the first crook said.
“Everybody wants a thrill”, the second added, between gasps.
“We’d pay anything to roll the dice again.”
“Just one more time.”
“Some will win, some will lose”, the dark avenger replied.
“And some, some were born to sing the blues.” His side-kick belted his captive.
“He’s right”, the larger man agreed. “The movie never ends.”
“And it goes on and on and on”, the boy said as they swung away.
“Don’t stop believing.”

Saved

03-07-2010, 11:14 AM

Because I didn't get a chance earlier:

Byrd: hilarious
Question: I liked your perspective when you threw up your app for All star, so I'd like to see you continue with this style. It's kinda how I always imagined Peter's inner dialogue in the rpgs - as if he were telling you the story past tense. You just took it to a whole nother level with your idea, so nice job. :up:
Andy: Great post, hoping that All star DOES get to season 4 or 5 so you can do that. (Or, maybe you could do it in season 3, where I believe the rpg will still be alive.)
Harlekin: That was pretty sweet. I didn't know where it was going at first, but then I got it and I was all ":up:" so nice work.
Blacklight: Look forward to seeing Ultimatum done where it doesn't suck. ;)

The Question

03-08-2010, 12:54 PM

Inspired by Andy (and a means of testing the waters with Norman post breakdown):

Night.

A white hallway, saturated with the smell of cleaning products. Walls lined with transparent doors that look into padded rooms inhabited by broken men and women.

A young man in a red and blue costume knocks on the glass of one of the cells. The patient he is here to see turns. The expression on his face is conflicted; a slight smirk along with a look of dread in his eyes.

"Peter Parker," he says quietly.

"Hello Norman," says the young man. There is a hint of disgust in his voice.

"Hello..." says Norman, his voice cracking slightly. He smiles.

"I'm sorry, I feel like I should offer your something, but..."

He gestures to the rest of his barren cell.

"I need your help, Norman."

"Having a spat with the missus, are we?"

"I need your help with The Hobgoblin," says Peter, ignoring the comment.

"I really am sorry, you know," says Norman.

"I just have a few questions to ask..."

"About Gwen, I mean."

Peter stops.

"What?" he asks.

"About Gwen, I'm sorry. Well, I'm not really. I mean I am, but... I'm sorry I hurt you. And I'm sorry that she died. The game had to be played. We had our roles to play and you weren't playing fair. It was business. Monkey on my back kept screaming and screaming, no that's not right. I am the Goblin. And I must say the sound of her neck going crack was positively orgasmic... you meddling little ****."

Norman's demeanor changes. He's filled with a manic, sickly energy, and the smile on his face could cause women to miscarriage just by looking at it.

"I apologize, at times I can't seem to keep myself together. You'd think I should be committed," he says, and then laughs. "I'm, so... well, what, not funny? Oh, you look so angry. Poor little Peter. This is why you do not **** with a man's business. It was nothing personal IT WAS COMPLETELY PERSONAL you spineless ****, that was the point!" says Norman, his head jerking from left to right as he addresses Peter and himself.

He becomes very still, and looks Peter directly in the eyes.

"I really am sorry, boy. I love you like a son, you know that."

Norman frowns.

"And I deprived you... oh my God I took away..."

Norman smiles.

"... what I mean is, she looked like she had legs that would not quit."

"SHUT UP!" Peter yells at the top of his lungs, no longer able to restrain himself.

"And that little bum of hers... I do recall she looked absolutely sinful in a skirt and knee high socks..."

Peter slams his hand against the glass.

"SHUT UP!" he shouts again.

Norman glances out into the hall.

"Nuh-uh, not allowed," he says, pointing at a security camera.

"The guards are taken care of," says Peter, coldly and quietly. "Behave."

Norman smiles, gently this time, beaming with pride.

"So how can I help you?" he asks.

"The Hobgoblin. He's Roderick Kingsley."

"Well that makes a lot of sense..."

"I need you to help me find him."

Norman raises his eyebrow.

"Who do you think I am, Hannibal Lecter?" he asks, amused.

"Kingsley's been downing your formula for over a year. He's as far gone as you are by this point. You think like him."

"I really don't."

"Don't try and tell me you're not crazy."

"Mad as a hatter, my boy. Kingsley and I may share a neurological disorder, but they're not going to manifest the same way. He's not me. His brain chemistry and his personality and upbringing are all different."

"So you're basically useless. Well, I wasn't wrong about something."

"Does he talk less?" asks Norman.

"... yes." said Peter.

"Well I'll be... I was never much for psychology, but I guess I'm picking up a few things round here... Kingsley was never repressed. Heart on his sleeve. Heart was selfish and arrogant, but still... he loves control. Like me, but different. The paranoia, mood swings, and hallucinations that come with will scare him. He wrapped himself up like a blanket. Probably only wears the costume because he feels exposed without it."

"That makes a lot of sense," says Peter. "He is different. He's quiet, obsessive, completely unreasonable. He's..."

"... like a ghost?" says Norman, smiling.

The smile is warm, affectionate, a seeming attempt at connection. Peter feels sick looking at him.

"Anyway," he says, "I think he's using your little goblin caves around the city as hideouts. The police only found four of them, but couldn't have gotten around like you did with just four."

"I had around thirty," says Norman.

"Fully stocked?"

"Last time I checked. I could tell someone had been sleeping in my bed, but she was never there."

"Tell me where they are."

"Can't remember all of them," says Norman. "Couldn't possibly."

"Try."

Norman thinks, and then smiles like a trouble making schoolboy.

"A deal."

"What?"

"Let's make a deal."

"What kind of deal?"

"You come and visit me more often. Promise. And I'll tell you where you can find a safehouse."

"Give me the list."

"No. I'll give you one each time you come and see me. But only when you leave. After we have a nice chat."

"Damn it Osborn..."

"It gets lonely in here, Peter. I think the other people here are crazy." says Norman with a wry smile.

"... fine."

"Promise?"

"I promise. But give me one now. Sign of good faith."

"Yes... I remember those... 34th street. Abandoned subway tunnel. I would steal nick knacks from Macy's when it struck my fancy."

Spider-Man bolted down the hall towards the window he entered through. Norman looks on as he leaves.

"Be seeing you," he whispers.

Andy C.

03-08-2010, 02:13 PM

Very nice, Q. I'm assuming that's after Stormin' Norman returns from the grave?

The Question

03-08-2010, 03:05 PM

Very nice, Q. I'm assuming that's after Stormin' Norman returns from the grave?

Yes.

Rain Dog

03-18-2010, 12:03 AM

Me and a friend were joking one night and came up with this scenario--I decided to turn it into a post (or series of posts depending on the reception)

The young Rebel opened his package of processed food and took a seat in his make-shift campsite. He took a bite of food and nervously looked around the foreboding, swampy jungle. Something was not right.

“…Still…there’s something familiar about this place…” he said to his mechanical friend as he chewed his meal.

“…I feel like…I don’t know…”

“Feel like what?” a mysterious voice immediately responded.

Luke jumped out of his skin and instinctively went for the blaster at his belt.

Artoo screeched as he spun around, aiming the gun at the mysterious speaker.

“Like we’re being watched!”

The speaker—tall, grimy, dressed in rags, and leaning on a walking stick—
was not shaken by Luke’s weapon and returned his threat with a stern glare.

“I don’t mean to shatter your ego but this ain’t the first time I’ve had a gun pointed at me. Now, normally, in this situation your ass would be as dead as ****in’ fried chicken. But you happened to pull this **** while I’m in a transitional period and I don’t wanna kill ya. I wanna help ya. Now put the gun down and tell me what you’re pasty ass is doing here.”

“…I’m looking for someone,” Luke responded, reluctantly putting his blaster away.

“Well, I guess you’ve found someone.”

“Right.”

“I can help you.”

“I don’t think so. I’m looking for a great warrior.”

“Oh, well, ****. A great warrior. Damn, I guess I can’t help ya then. I know every nook and cranny on the entire ****in’ planet but since you’re looking for a great warrior, I guess that means I can’t help ya. I mean, what the **** do I know? I’ve just lived here for the past twenty-two standard years.”

As the mysterious speaker went on his angry tirade, he slowly inched towards Luke’s meal tray. The mysterious figure eyed the food with interest and knelt down beside the tray.

“I’m so sorry to bother you. Especially during your meal. Whatcha eatin’?”

“A burger.”

“A burger. The cornerstone of any nutritious diet. What kinda burger?”

“Cheeseburger.”

“No, I mean what’s it from—nerf, ronto, bantha?”

“Bantha.”

“Bantha burgers. From Tatooine, I’m guessing? I’ve heard they’re pretty tasty. I ain’t never had one myself. How are they?”

“They’re good…”

“Mind if I try yours?” the mysterious figure said, reaching for the sandwich before Luke could respond. The mysterious figure took a big bite and gave a nod of approval.

“Hey! That’s my dinner!”

“Mmm-MMM, that’s a tasty burger!” the mysterious man replied, ignoring Luke’s protests. He looked down and took notice of a cup of liquid. He picked the cup up and sniffed its contents.

“What’s in this?”

“Corellian Ale.”

“Mind if I have some of your tasty beverage to wash this burger down with?”

“No…” Luke said in a defeated tone, knowing his response wouldn’t have made much difference. The man greedily gulped the drink down and gave a heavy sigh of satisfaction.

“Mmmm! Hits the spot! ?” the mysterious man said as he began to rummage through Luke’s supplies. After tossing several pieces of equipment about, he came upon something of interest—a small flashlight. The mysterious man rapidly switched it on and off, flickering the light in Luke’s eyes.

“Hey, give me that!”

The man laughed.

“Ah-ah. It’s mine now. Unless of course, you don’t want my help.”

“I don’t’ want your help, I want my light back! I’ll need it to get out of this slimy mud hole.”

“Mud hole? Slimy?! *****, this is my home! If you don’t like it you can get the **** out!”

“Our ship is stuck in that puddle. If he could get it out, we would, but we can’t, so why don’t you just move along and please let us be? We’ve got a lot of work to do and--”

Artoo chirped defiantly and extended a small mechanical arm that attempted to wrestle the flashlight of the man’s hand. The man gave Artoo a swift kick and sent the poor droid toppling over.

“Don’t think so. I think I’m gonna stick around give you guys a hand finding your friend. Who exactly are you looking for, anyway?”

Artoo began to beep frantically, trying to answer the man’s question.

“I DON’T REMEMBER ASKING YOU A DAMN THING!” the man snapped back.

“I’m not looking for a friend…I’m looking for a Jedi Master.”

“****, man, why didn’t ya say so? Mace. You seek Mace.”

“You know him?!” Skywalker asked excitedly.

“Yeah, I know ‘im. I’ll take you guys to him right now. But first, we’re headin’ to my place for some grub.”

wiegeabo

03-18-2010, 09:04 PM

Oh yeah. Luke's gonna learn how to use the mother****in' Force!

I may have to steal this... :hehe:

Byrd Man

03-19-2010, 02:56 PM

This is actually a short story I wrote and will actually be published next month in Cynic Online Magazine...before you complain, the title is misspelled for a reason!
The Hypocritic Oath

This hay fever is a real son of a *****,was all Robert could think about as he sat behind his desk.

It was always like this when the season changed. His nose would start runny, his eyes began to water, and his head started to ache like someone was pounding on it with a jackhammer. Doctor Malloy always gave him some allergy pills to help him through. But Doctor Malloy was gone.

The hospital's authority board kicked him to the curb a few months back. The complete details of his firing were still a bit sketchy and unknown. Rumor was he had been dishing out pills left and right to anyone who asked for the stuff, something Robert never asked about and hoped wasn't true. Another rumor was that the good doctor had just run afoul of the board and refused to kiss ass.

"Mr. Adams," the intercom buzzed. Tricia, the secretary at the front office was calling.

"Yes, Tricia?"

"The Collinses are here for their parent-teacher conference."

Robert rolled his water-filled eyes. Joey Collins was certainly a hell-raiser. In his twelve years as principal of Worthington Academy, Robert had never seen a force of nature like Joey. The little bastard was responsible for roughly five hundred dollars worth of damage this time. No matter how bad Robert wanted to break the news to Joey's parents that their sweet angel was getting thrown out of Worthington, he just didn't feel up to it.

"Tricia, see if you can get in touch with Assistant Principal Caldwell. Ask him to meet with the Collins family," Robert instructed. "I'm feeling a bit under the weather. I think I'll leave for the day."

"I'll do that," she chirped back. "Do try to get better, sir."
Grabbing a tissue, Robert stuck it up to his nose and gave a shrill blast as the snot flowed into the tissue.

I guess I can swing by the medical center was what he thought after the snot rag was out of his hands and in the trashcan.

It was five past ten in the morning, and he didn't have to pick up his daughter until later that afternoon.

He sat up, grabbed his leathery briefcase, and headed out the door of his office. Robert pulled out a tissue and dappled his runny nose as he headed outside the administration building into the cloudy mid-morning day; this hay fever is a real son of a *****.

Three hours later and Robert was still at the same spot he had been at since arriving at the medical center: the waiting room. He kept to himself as he sat in the cheap chair and looked around at the others waiting their turn. A heavy man decked out in a work shirt and jeans sat in a chair with his right arm in a sling. He was tilting his head up, watching the soap opera that was being acted out on the small TV bolted to the waiting room wall. A toddler in a red jumper lay in the floor coloring. His chubby mother with peroxide blonde hair thumbed through a magazine with movie stars on the cover.

For the past three hours, it was just Robert and the three others in the waiting room. Three hours and not a sign of the nurses or doctors. He continued to sit in the small room, his eyes glancing towards a heavy wooden door. That was the door the nurse was supposed to come out and call patients back, but apparently they did things different here. The door's wooden paneling glistened in the waiting room light as Robert stared at it intently. Naturally, the door was locked and the only way to open it was from the other side.

Robert shook his head and turned to look at the soap on the TV, his frustration growing.

Finally, his salvation came.

"Robert Adams," the nurse said as she opened up the heavy door. She was clothed in bright pink scrubs, sneakers, and her bony face gave a look of sheer boredom.

"That's me," he said as he shoved a tissue up to his face and blew his runny nose. The worker with his arm in a sling eyed Robert enviously when he passed by/.

"Come on back," the nurse said with a smile that was not really believable.

He followed her through the doorway and gave a little start as the door slammed shut with a loud thud.

"Now, sir. You do have insurance?" The Bony Nurse asked as they walked him down the office's halls.

"Umm, yes. My, uh, the school system I work for has a co-pay."25

"Ahh, you're a teacher?" She asked, her voiced peaked with fake interest.

"Principal. I work at Worthington Academy."

"Okay....and you have insurance?"

"Yes," Robert said with slight frustration.

"Good. We always have to make sure before we see anyone. Indigent care has really hurt the hospital."

Robert followed her down the hallway, past empty examination rooms. Working up the nerve, he finally cleared his throat.

"Umm...if you don't mind me asking.... What exactly took so long in the waiting room? It doesn't seem you're too busy today."

"Oh, that," the nurse said in her fake chipper personality, "we were gone to lunch."

Robert raised his eyebrow slightly, "Lunch?"

"Yes, sir. We usually leave at eleven and come back at one."

He bite the inside of his mouth to keep from screaming what he was thinking.

Two hour lunch break? You *****es leave for two hours to take lunch and don't even think of telling the sick people in the waiting room where you are?

"Oh," he mumbled weakly as the bite mark in his mouth started to ebb a little blood.

Still flashing her fake smile, the nurse showed Robert into an examination room.

"Have a seat and Doctor Peters will be with you."

She turned to leave as he sat down on the table. He was still
thinking about the long wait and the two-hour lunch break when she shut the door. He had heard on the radio that the hospital was millions of dollars in debt. With the way they treated patients, it sure as **** served them right. Here he was, with insurance and even money, and they took their sweet time. Jesus, no wonder the president wanted to reform healthcare, it needed something. Robert was really missing Doctor Malloy.

Robert glanced around the room at the sterilized white walls and floors; bland paintings of boats and trees were decorated on the walls in an effort to give patients comforting thoughts. The room's counter was stocked with cotton balls and tongue depressors. Robert looked at his watch as he sat on the table. Five minutes went by, the ten, twenty, finally, after a half-hour, the door opened up.

Doctor Raymond Peters was the head of medicine for the hospital. In his early 60's, his silvery head of hair along with his chiseled features and tanned skin made him look like an old movie star, Robert thought, somewhere along the lines of Paul Newman or Burt Lancaster.

Right now, he stood in front of Robert Adams inside one of the medical center's examination room, his white lab coat draped over a lime green polo shirt and black slacks.

"Hello, Mister Adams. How are we feeling today?" Peters asked Roberts, his pale blue eyes gazing at Robert over a set of wire framed reading glasses.

"Hay fever is really doing a number on me, Doctor," Robert said as he sneezed into his hand. His nose was running like a leaky faucet and his head felt like he had a vice clamped between his temples.

With a chuckle, Peter said, "Well, I'm certain I can help you out with that."

Robert flashed a slight smile at the aging doctor. He reminded him of his grandfather, and the doctor's delicate matter put him at ease. The two men sat in silence as Peters reviewed Robert's chart and finally looked up. He removed his glasses and smiled at Robert.

"Now, Mr. Adams, can you stand up for me, drop your pants and underwear. I'll need you to bend over on the counter?"

"Umm..."

"Don't be alarmed. I'm just going to do a prostate exam. Standard routine for a man your age."

"What does this have to do with my hay fever? Can't I just get my allergy pills and go home?"

"You know, Mister Adams. You ask about those pills," Peter said. His cheerful demeanor all but vanishing. "Are you certain that Doctor Malloy was just giving you allergy pills?"

"What? Yes!" Robert blurted out.

"Okay. I only ask because you fit the model of drug seeking behavior. Now, allow me to examine your prostate and then we can get on with it," with the last sentence, the doctor's reassuring smile had disappeared.

Robert's shoulders slumped in defeat. He gingerly stood up and pulled his khaki pants and boxers down around his ankles. Robert leaned forward onto the counter with the cotton balls and tongue depressors, glancing behind him. Doctor Peters' smile was back on his face as he slipped a latex glove on. The sound of the glove popping over the doctor's hand made Robert jump.

"A bit gun shy, are we?" Peters asked.

"Just...just a bit. I've never really done this."

Robert had always heard some horror stories about prostate exams, about how guys who had them done couldn't **** right for a few days. He hoped they were exaggerating. Robert watched the doctor as he went behind him. He heard the sound of something being squirted out of a bottle followed quickly by the smell of mint.

"That's just some lube," the doctor said soothingly, "we don't want to tear your sphincter out."

Robert's mind was racing, he took a deep breath and thought of a song to sing in his head, that always put him at ease.

It's more than a feeling...

"Okay, on the count of three."

When I hear that old song they used to play...

"One...."
More than a feeling...

"Two...."
I begin dreaming...

"Three!
More than a feel-HOLY **** ON A SHINGLE!

Robert closed his eyes and gritted as what felt like a lead pipe was prodding into his anus.

"Jesus, doc. I thought you said you used lube."

"I did, Mr. Adams," Peters said as he navigated through Robert's insides like a drunk trying to navigate a 747 through a snowstorm. Robert felt a burning sensation in what he was sure was his colon. As the pain went farther and farther north, Robert closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. The chances of him leaving his family for a man after this had become almost non-existent.

"Hmm...I think I feel something," the doctor muttered.
That would be my Adam's Apple, *******!

Robert winced in pain when the foreign object now jabbed up and down inside him. Doctor Peters was poking something.

Suddenly, a deep throbbing somewhere in the vicinity of his large intestine replaced the flaming pain. Robert turned to see Dr. Peters removing his glove. He tossed it into the trashcan and Robert saw smudges of brown and red on the glove as it went into the trash.

"I'm concerned, Mr. Adams." Peters said, a serious look on his face. "Your anus is now bleeding."
I wonder why that is?

"What do you thinks causing that," Robert grunted a bit sarcastically as he pulled his underwear up.

"Oh, it it could be any number of things," the doctor said as he put his glasses back on his face.

"Yeah...but...umm.... what about those allergy pills?"

Peters looked at him as if he had just called his mother a dirty name. Suddenly, he nodded.

"Yes, that's right. Almost slipped my mind."

Robert silently prayed. If he could get those allergy pills it would all be over, he could go home with his sore ass and not have to come back to this hellhole until he was in the emergency room. No more flaky receptionists, or stuck up nurses, and no more sadistic movie star doctors.

"I think I'm going to hold off on those allergy pills for now," the doctor said as he turned back to the chart. Robert's heart sunk inside his chest. He watched he doctor scribble down notes in the chart's margins.

"Based on the results of today's exam, I'm really worried about your prostate. I'd like for you to come back tomorrow, we can give you an MRI and survey the damage fully."

"But...."

"Mr. Adams, I'm a doctor. Trust me," he said as he flashed the smile that Robert was coming to loathe.

Robert shrugged his shoulders and his head sunk. "Okay, when's the earliest you can pencil me in?"

"You can come in at ten, but first I want you to see the nurse so she can give you some antibiotics."

The doctor left the examination room as Robert pulled his pants back on. He was wondering if the doctor had ripped his anus when he was finally out of the examination room. Peters nodded at Robert and pointed down the hallway.

The doctor led the way, with Robert waddling behind, walking like a cowboy in a cheap western. Robert followed Peters to the nurses' station. Waiting for them was Bony Nurse.

"Delores, be a doll and fix Mr. Adams here up with some antibiotics," Peters said as he slipped his reading glasses into his lab coat pocket.

"Sure thing, doctor." This time, the nurse's smile actually seemed genuine.

"Oh," the doctor said, turning to Robert. "You have insurance?"

"He does," the nurse answered for Robert. "He's some sort of teacher or something."

"I'm the principal over at Worthington Academy. In my time at the school, we've been recognized as a National School of Excellence over a dozen times," Robert said proudly.

"Whatever," Bony Nurse replied, "but his insurance has full co-pay including dental and even cosmetic surgery."

"Amazing," Doctor Peters said with a small glint in his eye. "Your insurance pays for all that? Simply amazing. Well, I'll leave you in Delores' capable hands, it's almost tee time!" With that, the doctor bounded off down the hall.

Robert looked over at the Bony Nurse, now christened Delores by Doctor Peters. He had a slight panic attack as she popped on latex gloves and pulled a six-inch needle out of the cabinet of medical supplies.

"Now, Mr. Adams," the fake smile was back. "Please drop your pants again. I'll just inject the antibiotic into your left buttocks cheek and you can go."

It was then that Robert noticed the six-inch needle had a half-inch hole in it. He whined weakly and undid his belt buckle.

This hay fever is a real son of a *****.

The next day, dressed in a fashionable hospital gown with his ass showing, Robert Adams limped down the hallways of the hospital, the effects of yesterday's sodomy still taking their toll on him.

The nurse showed him to the MRI room. Four plain, white walls that were decorated with the same bland pictures that hung in the medical center's examination room greeted him. The MRI machine was a heavy tube object sitting horizontally on the floor, its cream colored paint shined in the room's florescent lights. Robert eyed the gurney that was sticking out of the tube and noticed the track that lead into the machine. All he had to do was get on the gurney and the machine did the rest.

"Mr. Adams," a heavyset man in scrubs said entering the room, "my name is Lance and I'm the MRI tech. I'll be taking care of you today."

Robert surveyed the man, eyeing his shaggy black hair and stubble-filled face. Robert guessed the man couldn't be much older than twenty, the earring that hung from his left ear all but confirmed he was still a kid. Curiously enough, he had tattoos on his arms. Several looked dull and favored tattoos made in prison.

"Okay," Robert said timidly when Lance flashed a smile that seemed to be a bit too phony.

"You do have insurance, right?" Lance asked cautiously. The MRI tech turned to a large duffel bag that rested on the counter next to the scanning machine's equipment.

"Yes..., mm-my insurance has co-pay for almost anything."

"Good, very good. Now, if you'll just step into the machine, we'll begin."

Robert turned his back to walk towards the MRI machine when he felt it: cold metal touching his neck. A blow to the top of his spine sent him flying forward. He collapsed into a heap on the hospital floor. His eyes remained focused long enough to see Lance standing over him with a tire iron.

After that, darkness.

When Robert Adams opened his eyes he expected to feel horrible, searing pain. Only, he didn't feel pain. Only a numb sensation that coursed through his whole body was there to greet him. His eyes were locked upwards, looking at the hospital room's ceiling. He assumed he was laying in a hospital bed, but he couldn't feel the sheets of the bed, or even the fluffy pillow that was rested beneath his head. He tried to sit up, but his body wouldn't comply with his commands.

"You're awake? Good," a voice called out from in the room. The face of Doctor Peters came into view.

"Lance is a spirited boy, although a bit rough. We've tired to get him to use something more precise, say along the lines of a hammer or mallet. But the boy has an affection for the tire iron. Did you know that's the same weapon he murdered his parents with? The last few times Lance went with that particular weapon, the results were messy. I'm glad he got it right."

Robert did his best to yell at the man, leap up and strangle him with every ounce of his strength. Only, he couldn't.

"You see, the base of the neck, where Lance hit you, is the connector to the rest of your body's nerves. Think of it as the junction point of the nervous system's superhighway. A crippling blow to that bundle of nerves can kill or paralyze a man for the rest of his life. You're very lucky he didn't drop the tire iron an eighth of an inch or you'd be in the morgue."

Robert couldn't believe what he was hearing. A deranged hospital employee had attacked him and crippled him, and Dr. Peters knew about it! What happened to the Hippocratic Oath?!

"Yes, I know it may be a violation of that oath we doctors take," Peters said almost on cue. "But sometimes you have to do things to survive," the doctor said with the smile that, at this moment, Robert wanted to wipe off his face.

"The hospital has been losing money steadily. They predict that by next May we'll be bankrupt. So, the Hospital Authority Board did what they thought was best. Patients who, like you, are middle-aged with mild health problems and insurance would be picked out. We would then horribly cripple them in order to assure the hospital could have steady revenue for some time to come."

Robert's eyes now held a look of fierce determination as he stared up at the doctor.

"Don't be so shocked, Mr. Adams. Firemen start fires, policemen are crooks. So what, if I may ask, is so wrong about doctors creating injuries? We'll tell your wife and children you had a stroke and that caused your total paralysis. They'll believe me because, well, because I'm a doctor. After a few weeks, you'll be transferred to our long-term care facility where you will live out the rest of your days watching soap operas and eating apple sauce out of a tube."

Robert was furious. Now, more than ever, he wished that Doctor Malloy hadn't been fired.

"You know it was Doctor Malloy's original idea," Peters said. "The reason he left was to open a private practice to where he could ‘help' other patients," the elderly doctor said with a wicked smile.

The doctor now left Robert's sight as he walked out of the room. "I'm about to call your family in Mr. Adams. Please do try and look sad for them."

Robert Adams closed his eyes and breathed deeply. He could hear the doctor walking down the hospital's hallways. Robert opened his eyes and glanced down at his face. He saw that his nose was running uncontrollably.

"Yep, this hay fever is a real son of a *****."

Batman

03-19-2010, 03:12 PM

No, damn you!

Now someone can steal it and make off with the profits you'll never gain!

Byrd Man

03-19-2010, 03:17 PM

Dammit!

wiegeabo

03-19-2010, 06:34 PM

No, damn you!

Now someone can steal it and make off with the profits you'll never gain!

And, of course, you don't delete the post, even though you have the power to do so, thereby preventing Byrd from making any money off his work.

Harlekin

05-01-2010, 01:28 PM

1982.

Gotham City.

It was just past nine in the evening, in the first few days of spring. “Zip up your jacket,” a mother was saying to her young son, but the child didn’t listen. He was laughing and jumping and thrusting an imaginary blade at evildoers in the shadows. His father and mother were walking closely together, imbuing each other with warmth. Smiling faintly, the woman placed her head on her husband’s shoulder as they watched their son.

“Are you sure this is a shortcut, Thomas?” she asked, gripping her husband’s hands tightly. They were walking into a tight alley, illuminated only by the lights coming from people’s apartments. The husband pulled his wife a little closer as reassurance. As they passed a bar, his eyes met a man standing outside, enjoying a smoke. Joan Jett was singing “I Love Rock ‘n’ Roll” into the night.

“Wasn’t it the greatest, mom? I think it was the greatest!” the son was now running around his parents, still mad with excitement. He jumped from puddle to puddle laughing and his mother and father couldn’t help but laughing along with him.

That’s probably why they didn’t hear the man at the bar stomping his cigarette into the ground. The mother’s heels clicked against the ground, the sound echoed through the alley. The man’s shoes were flat and slick and so they didn’t notice he had come near them until he was practically breathing in their neck.

“Give me your money.”

The family stopped in their tracks, turning to face the man. The wife started breathing heavily and quickly, her hands instinctively reaching for her son and pulling him close. Her husband’s eyes once again met with those of his would-be robber. In the corner of them, he could see the barrel of the gun, the weapon being held close to the man’s hip. The husband started to reach for his wallet.

“And the pearls, I want the pearls,” the robber pointed to the pearls the woman was wearing with his free hand. She started to cry as she started to lift the necklace over her head.
“Hold it,” her husband said. “That was a gift from my mother.”
“It’s worth something isn’t it?” the criminal snarled.
“You can have the money.” The husband held out his wallet.
“I don’t want your stinkin’ money!” The robber lunged forward to grab at the pearls. The other man charged forward.

<BLAM!>

In a split second it happened. The husband sunk to his knees, gripping his stomach. The woman screamed. The boy stood still, frozen. A bright light engulfed them all before dissipating as quickly as it had appeared.

<BLAM!>

The woman fell as well. Father and mother framed the young boy, who dropped to his knees as well. He looked up at the man who had shot his parents. His trenchcoat was open, revealing a black shirt and pants, covered in a strange green pattern. The man’s eyes met the child’s before they continued further down to the two bodies.

“Oh, this isn’t good,” Walker Gabriel said.

Batman

05-01-2010, 10:04 PM

Heh. Coolness. :up:

Saved

06-09-2010, 04:04 AM

Inspired yet again by a chat with Master Bruce Batman...
From the minds that brought you "Everybody hates Arthur"...

Avengers
Development

Deep in the heart of New York, the Earth's mightest heroes conveign in Avengers Tower for their monthly meeting...

Steve Rogers, America's Sentinel of Liberty, enters the conference room swiftly; wasting no time as he takes his place at the head of the table. He inhales deeply as he stares out at the heroes congregated before him.

"Avengers," he begins, his voice strong and stern. "We have a situation. The Hulk is loose again, and he's wreaking untold havok where ever he goes. We've got to stop him immediately!"
"Haha, yeah, you said it, Cap!" Iron Man says, his speech slurred as he wobbles back and forth in his chair.
"Yes I - wait, what the- ... Tony, are you drunk?"
"Haha, maaaaaaybbbeeee...."
"I thought you were sober?"
"I was ... for, like, five minutes!" As Tony turns to Quicksilver sitting at his right, he clumsily raises his hand. "High five!" He grins. Suddenly, a fierce beam of energy fires from the repulsor at the core of his palm. With astounding reflexes, Quicksilver ducks to miss the energy blast, allowing the beam to blow a hole in the metal wall behind him. "Whoops, my bad, man."

"Tony, what the heck is your problem!?" Steve asks with a scowl.
"This," Tony begins, pointing to the glass held firmly in his hand. "It's empty. Psshhhhahahahaa." As Tony slips into drunken laughter, Steve stares at his fellow Avenger with a look of disappointment.
"Hey," Hawkeye says, leaning forward. "At least he's a straight shooter."
"Clint...just shut up."

"Look, I don't know why everyone's so surprised Tony's wasted," Hank Pym interjects. "He's a selfish glory hog, of course he comes to one of these meetings smashed."
"Hey, Hank - don't you have a wife to go beat?"
"WHY YOU!" Hank growls in a rage.
"You kinda look like the Hulk when you're mad. Except, you know, uglier."
"You're lucky you're not a woman, otherwise I'd-"

"ENOUGH!" Steve shouts, calling the group to order. "Everyone, shut up. We've got a major situation right now! Enough of this senseless arguing, the Hulk must be stopped immediat-" Captain America suddenly stops midsentence as something from across the room catches his eye. "Scarlet Witch, stop fondling the computer screen!"
"But he's so handsome."
"Oh, what the ****, Wanda?!" Pietro exclaims.
"What?!"
"Take. Your. Seat." Captain America commands. Reluctantly, Wanda makes her way toward the table, sitting down in her designated place.

"Okay, now - The Hulk is strong, but not very smart. If we go at this from a tactical position, we should be able to gain the upperhand."
"Aye," Thor agrees. "The beast of fury possess the fiercesome pow'r of Hella's darkest minions, but his mind ist n'er so mighty."
"...riiight. Tony, sober up and take to the skies. You and Thor will be in charge of the aerial assualt."
"Verily."
"Can my friend Jack Daniels join us?"
"No."
"Killjoy."

"Pietro, you and I will engage the Hulk on the ground - keeping him distracted so that Hawkeye can get a clear shot to deliver the antidote Hank synthesized."
"Yeah, Tony. Who made the cure all miracle medicine to save the day? Was it you? Ah - Ah - Ah - NO, it was me."
"Good for you - now you can go brag to your ant-friends."

"Logan," Steve says, cutting off Hank before he can retaliate. "Wait, where's Wolverine?"
"Back here," he calls from the back of the room. Wolverine stands next to the water cooler, casually taking a sip from his brown, metal flask.
"Logan, we'll need you to help distract the Hulk. You're healing factor allows you to engage the Hulk in closer quarters without longterm injury. Can you do that for us?" Wolverine pauses as he takes another swig from his flask, allowing an awkward silence to fill the room. As he swallows the hard liquor, he rudely wipes his mouth on his sleeve.
"... Nope," he finally replies.
"Why...why not?"
"Booked. I've got to meet Cable in about five minutes to help him save the future from being altered again. Then, Scott needs me to meet up with the X-Men and take down a revived Brotherhood of Evil. Then, I've got some tentative plans with Spider-Man to help him ... you know, I don't remember why."
"I thought you were a loner!" Cap shouts in confused frustration.
"HEY, bub, I am. I am. I - Huh," he says as he reaches to the pager clipped on his belt. "Crap, Kitty just texted me..."

"Oh man," Cap sighs as he rests his face in the palm of his hand. "Alright, Hank - suit up. You'll have to take Logan's place."
"Alright - hero time."
"Yeah, who're you gonna be today, Hank? Yellow Hack-et? Ant-freak? Wife-beater man?"
"Really, Tony? Why don't you go make a suit for your sobriety? You make one for everything else..."
"Seriously, do you have any friends who don't have six legs?" Tony asks, leaning back in his chair with a grin. "Like, if I call an exterminator, what would you do? Have a nervous breakdown?"
"OOooh!" Hawkeye says obnoxiously. "That was dark, Tony. You sent a...quiver down my spine!"
"Clint," Cap says, his head still buried in his hands in hopeless frustration. "...you're fired."

****

Andy C.

06-09-2010, 10:09 PM

You have GOT to have those Avengers do a crossover with the Everybody Hates Arthur JLA.

TrueMastermind

06-14-2010, 09:20 PM

This place is beautiful. Armadillo, USA. Much more scenic than the artificial cities of the east. One can watch the nature of the Wild West for hours without achieving boredom. Tumbleweed rolling throughout the rocky, desert plains. Wildlife scurrying around all over the land, living in an enviroment that doesn't have to suffer from man's unstoppable greed. Towering mountains stretching out for miles while scratching the blue, clear skies. I love it.

It's not just the scenery. Back in New York, people labeled me as an attention-seeking freak; branding me as some outlaw vigilante. But here, they appreciate my help. They embrace it, they love it. It almost wants to make me live here forever.

But I can't. It just isn't home. I need the paved streets. I need the selfish citizens. And I need Aunt May.

Ahh, a scream. That's my signal; better put these thoughts of leaving in the back of my mind for now. Right now, these people need me. They need the Amazing Spider-Man.

***
This is the first of my writings of people who I would desire to play but either it takes place in an alternate universe or I'm not sure I can play them. For this one, I have placed Spider-Man in the world of Red Dead Redemption; specifically in the town of Armadillo. Hope you enjoyed it.

TrueMastermind

06-14-2010, 09:23 PM

And here's the design for Old West Spidey; taken off the Fan Art boards.
http://sixmorevodka.com/SUPERPOST/Spiderman_Noir-revision03.jpg

Andy C.

06-15-2010, 03:17 AM

I see someone else has an affinity for the Spider-Man Noir look :oldrazz:

Eddie Brock

06-15-2010, 10:00 AM

I recently picked up all the Spider-Man Noir issues, and it's pretty sweet so far. I would love to see an ongoing Batman Noir series, though.

Saved

06-15-2010, 10:15 AM

Try every issue of Batman after 1986 :o

TrueMastermind

06-15-2010, 10:28 AM

Sprang River was not a safe place to be right now. Shoot, Gotham wasn't, and never has been, a safe place to be. Batman just stopped a takeover of Arkham Asylum, a crazy joint, by the maniac Joker. People were saying that many of Gotham's insane have escaped their island prison. Some said bombs were planted all over the city by the ruthless clown. Who knows what lurked in the murky water of Sprang River on this dark, misty night?

Tik Tok.

Despite the danger that surrounded them, three men stood on the edge of the barrier between the looney's bin and Gotham. Fishing was their passion and they wouldn't let some crackheads scare them away. But they should of. They should of got scared when they hadn't caught anything for about an hour. They should of got scared when bizzare growls tickled their ears. They should of got scared when unsually large ripples started to outbreak throughout the polluted river.

Tik Tok.

It was an urban myth that a human was born looking similar to a crocodile. Rumor had it that, as he aged, he mutated even further until he became a scaly montrosity, terroizing the city's waters. They even said the Batman fought against him every once in a while. Yeah right, the fishermen thought. Like that could happen.

Tik Tok.

One fisherman swore he saw eyes looking up at the trio from the water, yellow and glowing like those of a evil demon. Another one swore that he saw a shadow dash through the water, before disappearing back into the abyss. The last swore he saw some mysterious bubbling, as if something was indeed under the filth-filled river. They all smelled the stench of dead fish.

Tik Tok.

The water violently erupts, a hideous, bloodthirsty creature ripping into the open air, with the scales of a killer croc. His eyes glow a stunning yellow while he flashes his razor sharp teeth, the kind that kills. Before they could even blink, the fishermen were no more than mutilated corpses, torn apart by a monster of a myth.

"Tik Tok. Here comes the Croc."

Hound55

06-22-2010, 03:35 AM

I think I've got an idea for a pre-John's-retcon post on Hal Jordan Parallax.

So why am I mentioning it here..? Because hopefully, now its said I'll have to follow through and actually do it.

Andy C.

06-24-2010, 12:23 AM

Here's another one from the far-flung future of All-Star Marvel that I will most likely never actually get to do. Not because I don't think the game will last that long, but because it's almost guaranteed that someone else is going to pick up the character and do something different. So with that in mind, here's a little something I call:

The Lost and the Found

Can you hear me?

I......I can't see.....I can't feel.....

I can feel you.........

What?! Whaddya mean,--.....who are you?!

Someone like you. I am lost. And I am lost because of him.

.....who? Who is 'him'?

You know exactly who he is. The one who put you where you are, who left you like this. Broken and alone. Alone and unloved. Just like me. All because of him.

.....Oh. HIM.

So you remember? All of those years he humiliated you?

All those years he made me look stupid. All those years he played with the heart of the one I loved. All those years he got in my way.

Yes, I saw her too, in his mind. And now I see her in yours. The golden-haired angel, the one who haunted your dreams long before such thoughts ever crossed his mind.

I wanted her first. She should have been mine.

And she was yours, too, wasn't she? For a while. But even when she was yours as was your right, he worked his way in between you and her. Went behind your back. Got into her head. Stole her heart right out from under you. Drove you to do what you tried to do....

I.....I didn't mean it. I just lost control of myself. I was just so frustrated by.....by....

By the fact that she could never see past him to see you....

.....yes. If Spider-Man hadn't been there to stop me....

Ah, Spider-Man. I have so much to tell you about that. But we'll save that for later. The one who hurt us ruined you, took her away, took away your friends, your future, didn't he?

No one would ever talk to me again after that. They all thought I was a monster.

I can relate.

And what's worse....I never got to redeem myself. To show that I had changed, that I could be as good to her as she deserved, that I was better than him!

And your golden-haired angel?

She....died. She was murdered. And she went to her grave hating me. Hating me and loving him.

All that pain.....I thought he knew the same pain, too. I came to him then, in his darkest hour, to try and ease his pain. To give him the strength to survive. Instead, he used me. He used me to hurt you and then threw me away.

You?

Yes. I was there when he made you.....like this. You remember it, don't you? The pain, the anger between you and him, the words you said to him........his fist coming down upon you again and again and again......

He.....he crippled me. He broke me.

And then he broke me, too. I am dying now. Dying without him, without someone to share my strength with. Dying....without you.

I.....what?

I am lost because of him. As are you. Together, though....

....we are found.

He destroyed us both, and left us for dead. Together, we can do the same to him.

I can't......I can't even move......I don't even know where we are.....

Take my strength, then. There is so much of it to share, after all. Take my power, and rise again, so that we might poison him the way he poisoned us!

.......yes.

******

Anne Weying had only become an intern at the hospital a few months ago, and as such, her responsibilities were still menial. In particular, she had to take care of the day-to-day functions of caring for the vegetative patient on the fifth floor.

A few weeks prior, he had been brought in on a stretcher, barely breathing, multiple broken bones and severe internal bleeding. Some of the marks on his body suggested impacts from a fist, but the sheer damage they had done looked more like he had been hit by a bus. They were able to save his life and stabilize his condition, but since then, he hadn't so much as opened his eyes.

They were finally able to identify him last week, a college dropout in his early twenties. His parents were notified of his condition, but were still holding out for hope that he would regain consciousness. They couldn't bring themselves to pull the plug on their son.

Miss Weying made her way to her patient's room, then gasped before pressing the call button for security.

Her patient, one which had been beaten so badly that it was feared he would never wake up again, was nowhere to be found.

Eddie Brock had simply vanished out the open window.

Saved

06-25-2010, 06:57 PM

Good stuff, Andy. :up: Hopefully All Star makes long enough for you to do these stories.

The Question

06-25-2010, 10:47 PM

An Idea I've been tossing around my noggin' for "From the Pages of...":

And with a smile befitting a wise old child, The Doctor all but skipped down the hall to the TARDIS' control room to set sail for a new world to explore.

"Is he gone?"

A round faced man with an equally round belly wearing long brown robes peered around the corner.

"Yes, he's gone," said his associate, a tall, well built man standing in the middle of the hall. "I don't see why you feel the need to hide. He can't see us."

"You can never be too careful with him."

"Our perception filters have fooled The TARDIS so far. He can't see us."

"He's The Doctor," said the shorter and fatter of the two.

The taller man rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"Come on, then. The others will wonder where we've gone off to.

He picked up a large bag from around the corner and headed down the hall, the fat man in the robes keeping pace behind him with a bag of his own slung over his shoulder.

"You know what they call him?" asked the fat man. "The Daleks, I mean."

"Isn't it 'The Destroyer of Worlds?' or something like that?"

"I thought it was 'The Oncoming Storm.' Maybe it's both. Either way, awfully poetic for The Daleks. They had to invent poetry just to get across how scared he makes them. Think about it."

"The man's got a hundred titles. 'The Oncoming Storm,' 'The Dark Lord,' 'The Threefold Man,' 'The Lonely God...'

"But to us," said a woman, stepping out of a doorway, "He'll always be skinny little Theta Sigma."

"All a bunch of rubbish if you ask me," said the taller man as he stopped in front of her. "Man has an inflated reputation."

The fat man rushed up beside the other two.

"'Lo Ushas."

"Hello, Mortimus," she said, smiling.

The three walked through the door into an old fashioned smoking parlor, with leather furniture, floor to ceiling book cases, a roaring fireplace, and candles lighting the room. A skinnier, balding man stood in the corner, eyeing his compatriots nervously.

"By the Nightmare Child," said the taller man, "I even scored higher marks than he did in school."

"Magnus, did you get the food?" asked the balding man.

The man called Magnus threw his bag into the center of the room.

"Yeah yeah, I've got enough to last us a while. Don't get your knickers in a twist, Drax."

"Well, with all of your squabbling, you're bound to get us found out," Drax replied.

"What do you care," as the taller man. "You don't even want to be here."

At that, Drax winced. Nervously, he glanced at one of the armchairs facing the fireplace before looking back at his parring partner.

"Look, I... just wanted to... I'm just hungry. That's all," he said. He grabbed a loaf of bread from the bag and took a bight.

Magnus chuckled.

"Yeah right, hungry. You're scared. Scared of Koschei. Crazy little Koschei, thinking he can boss everyone around."

Drax's face suddenly drained of all color. Mortimus made a very loud gulbing sound and sunk behind Ushas, tying to make himself as invisible as possible Ushas simply smiled.

"You know, I'm getting pretty sick of you calling the shots around here, Koschei," said Magnus, addressing one of the chairs facing the fireplace. "You saved our lives, and I'm grateful, but we should have left as soon as we could. I don't see why you want us wasting time on The Doctor."

There was a heavy silence after Magnus spoke, a tension broken only after a few moments when a voice came from one of the armchairs.

"That. Is not. My name."

The man in the chair stood. He was wiry, with short blond hair, dressed in a very Edwardian style, with a frock coat, tartan trousers, and a cape. He scanned the room with eyes full of madness and rage, looking each and every one of his companions in the eyes. Each one could feel the chaos of his mind, like a thousand shattered mirrors caught in a hurricane, in his stare.

"None of you are using our proper names. We chose them. They define us."

Magnus rolled his eyes.

"I'm sorry..."

In the time it took to blink, the man Magnus had called Koschei was standing in front of him, their faces not an inch apart.

"You are The War Chief," the man said to Magnus.

He backed off and turned to the others. He pointed to Mortimus.

"He is The Monk."

Then to Ushas.

"She is The Rani."

Then to Drax.

"He is The Tinkerer."

He patted his hand against his chest, proudly.

"And I am The Master."

He stared at 'The War Chief,' with the fire of a vengeful deity in his eyes. He then broke his expression with a giant, twelve year old's grin.

"Which, come to think of it, is probably why I'm calling the shots around here."

He turned on his heel and began pacing back and forth across the room.

"Now! As for why we're 'wasting time on The Doctor,' we're not wasting time. I have very big plans for him and his adopted home world. Plans beneficial to all of us, including him. After all, he's family. We're all family. And if we're going to achieve any of our individual goals, if we're going to have fun and raise HELL like we used to, we need to work together as a family."

He walked over to the second armchair, running his fingers across the back.

"After all, there's nothing more important than family."

He leaned around the side of the chair, coming face to face with a young woman with short dark hair and a tired, vacant stare, looking at absolutely nothing. He smiled as he looked into her face.

"Isn't that right, Susan?"

Andy C.

06-25-2010, 11:17 PM

Very nice. Glad to see there's another Who fan on board (though admittedly I'm mostly new-Who)

The Question

06-25-2010, 11:34 PM

Very nice. Glad to see there's another Who fan on board (though admittedly I'm mostly new-Who)

Same here, although I've been going back and learning myself about the lore.

The only thing keeping me from playing The Master in "From The Pages Of..." is that Red Robin, the current Doctor, seems to have disappeared. But this is basically the direction I'd go in.

The Question

06-26-2010, 12:02 AM

Another potential piece for "From the Pages of..."

The Kurgan awoke in a dark room with a single overhead lamp as a light source. He was chained to a chair, seated in front of a table with a young man in a business suit sitting across from him.

"I see you're awake," said the young man. "My name is Linday McDonald. I work for the Los Angeles branch Wolfram & Hart. It's a law firm, if you're not familiar with them."

"I know them," said The Kurgan. "The Wolf, Ram, and Hart were known to me when they still spoke through dark priests instead of lawyers. They never impressed me much."

"I can see why," said Lindsay. "Not to knock the Senior Partners, mostly because they'd kill me if I did, but you're a warrior. Old school type. Takes a real bloodbath to wow you, not lies and manipulations. You probably haven't been impressed since World War II."

The Kurgan smiled.

"Vietnam had it's charms."

"Of course it did."

Lindsay reached under the table and produces a manila folder. He opened it in front of The Kurgan, revealing a blurry photo of him, taken in the '70s.

"We know a lot about you, Mr. Kurgan. You're a big player. Your goal is to kill ever other immortal on the planet, not referring to immortal creatures in general but in this case a specific subset of mystically enhanced humans who can't die unless they heads are destroyed or removed from their bodies and who can absorb the skills, knowledge, and physical strength of others of their kind by killing them. So you want to kill every last member of your kind so that you can have their collective power and ascend to godhood. And so far you've done pretty good for yourself, killing 152 other Immortals in your long life."

"152 and a half. One was a midget."

"We're rooting for you, Mr. Kurgan. We really are. You're exactly the kind of person we want to have that kind of power. We wan't to help you. We want for all of us to be on the same team."

"Do you want to be my lawyer? I don't have a need."

"Not now. But what if you get arrested in your pursuits?"

"Then a lot of cops are gonna die."

"Mr. Kurgan. We are offering you support. Legal defense, reliable and much nicer places to stay, and payment. All we ask is that you play ball with us. Lend your unique skills. Help us out."

"Be your assassin?"

"We're offering to pay you to kill people. Even some things bigger and nastier than any immortal you've ever faced. Does that really sound so bad."

The Kurgan threw bag is head and laughed.

"Not at all," he said. "In fact, it sounds like fun."

wiegeabo

06-26-2010, 12:32 AM

Holy **** :wow:

The Question

06-26-2010, 12:36 AM

Holy **** :wow:

Which one?

wiegeabo

06-26-2010, 12:42 AM

Second.

Most of the Who references are beyond me.

The Question

06-26-2010, 12:45 AM

Second.

Most of the Who references are beyond me.

Thanks.

In case you're curious, it basically boils down to: Every one of The Doctor's childhood friends who grew up to become a super villain, including his arch enemy and former heterosexual life partner, all of whom are thought to be dead, are secretly hiding out in his space ship/secret base right under his nose and have his biological granddaughter, also thought to be dead, as their hostage.

Catman_prb

06-26-2010, 12:53 AM

Same here, although I've been going back and learning myself about the lore.

The only thing keeping me from playing The Master in "From The Pages Of..." is that Red Robin, the current Doctor, seems to have disappeared. But this is basically the direction I'd go in.
I would totally play the Doctor opposite you :up: An excellent post.

The Question

06-26-2010, 01:00 AM

I would totally play the Doctor opposite you :up: An excellent post.

I'd be down. Let's say 11th Doctor for convenience's sake?

Also, you still Magneto in All Star?

Catman_prb

06-26-2010, 01:02 AM

Nah, I had no short term plans, which is never a good idea.

The Question

06-26-2010, 01:10 AM

Nah, I had no short term plans, which is never a good idea.

Oh. Well, I could help with that if there were a Doom/Magneto team up. Still, we should Who it up over in "From The Pages Of..." They could use a Superman/Captain America type as well as a universal big bad. The Doctor and The Master are as good a choice for either role as any.

wiegeabo

06-26-2010, 01:32 AM

We already have a Doctor.

But it's been over a month since the last post.

Andy C.

06-30-2010, 01:38 PM

Inspired by Q, here's a crossover that I would kill to see......

"You're sure they're going to listen?"

"If I were sure of that, I wouldn't have brought the two of you along."

"You know I'm here to act as a keeper of the peace, not a means of intimidation."

"Same thing, when you get right down to it."

"That's not what I meant, but yes, I suppose having him here will give our side of the negotiations a little more...weight."

"Okay then," the man in black robes said as their small shuttle approached the massive white capital ship in the viewport. "Time to meet the neighbors."

The shuttle was the only ship that dared to go anywhere near the gleaming Imperial-class Star Destroyer Chimaera that loomed over the skyline of Coruscant. Not too long ago, such a sight was commonplace, while Palpatine and his brutal right hand Vader held this world in their clutches as Imperial Center. Now, the gleaming planet-wide metropolis had learned to breathe free again as capital of the New Republic, a nation which had fought long and hard to secure its freedom.

Today would mark the ending of a long and devastating series of wars that had left untold trillions dead. Today marked the signing of a lasting cease-fire between the New Republic and the Imperial Remnant. And while the Imperials had gone through a lengthy process to determine their representatives for the event, the Republic had no trouble in choosing who would stand for them:

As the shuttle settled securely in the gaping maw that was the Chimaera's docking bay, out stepped Senator Leia Organa-Solo, dressed in an elegant but not extravagant white gown that bore an intentional likeness to her clothing from the days where she served as a mole for the Rebellion on the Imperial Senate.

Stepping out next was her one allowed guest, his blue jacket slightly wrinkled, as he had never quite gotten used to the life of luxury that comes from being married to a Senator. Retired General Han Solo eyed the lines of Imperial Stormtroopers carefully, a playful smirk on his face, his right hand subconsciously resting on his blaster.

While the officers and Stormtroopers stood at attention for the Senator or nodded respectfully towards a worthy adversary like General Solo, there was a wave of gasps as they saw a man in black robes step out from the shuttle behind them. His face was aged well before its time, the result of having seen far too much for far too long, but his eyes were the very picture of serenity. Even with his peaceful composure and his movements giving every indication that he meant none of them harm, it was difficult for many of the Imperials not to begin nervously shaking in his presence....especially those who were old enough to have served under Vader.

Luke Skywalker, Grand Master of the New Jedi Order, followed his two oldest and dearest friends to the bridge, where they were greeted by a man in a flawless white military uniform--the garb of the Imperial Grand Admiral.

"My name is Grand Admiral Gilad Pellaeon, the new supreme commander of the Imperial Remnant. Though my ascension comes under less than desirable circumstances," he said, referencing the assassination of the long-dreaded Grand Admiral Thrawn, "I can assure you that I am by no means a mere substitute. Although, I must say, I know my own reputation is quite easily dwarfed by the three of you. Was it necessary to send a Senator, a war hero, and a Jedi Master for these proceedings?"

"My husband is merely here for moral support, Grand Admiral Pellaeon," Leia reassured the Imperial general. "My brother is here because the Jedi Order have every bit as much of an interest in stabilizing the Galaxy as either the Republic or the Empire. Neither will take any part in the actual negotiations. To that end, it will be just you and me."

Admiral Pellaeon eyed Solo and Skywalker warily, then nodded, and gestured to the table behind him.

"Shall we begin, then?"

*BOOOOOOOM!!!!!*

The hull of the Chimaera rocked and shuddered from a violent explosion, all hands on board the bridge knocked off balance by the jolt.

"What is the meaning of this?!" Pellaeon shouted in outrage. "The Republic calls for a cease-fire, then attacks my ship when we come in peace?!"

"That wasn't us, Admiral!" Leia responded indignantly. "Why would my government send the three of us up here just to have us killed along with you?"

"She's right," Luke said, practically staggering after what he had detected through the Force "I can feel....so many of them. Millions. And in every one of their minds, there is only hate. As if it's all they're capable of feeling....something terrible is happening."

"Yeah, but....who are they?"

"Just see for yourself," Leia said as she looked out of the viewport to the planet below.

All around them, huge disc-shaped warships hovered over the gleaming spires of the Republic capital, bolts of bright blue energy slamming into buildings and blasting them apart. Out from these ships poured unknown tiny objects, roughly the size of a human but nothing resembling the shape of one, whizzing through the air and blowing starships and speeders out of the sky.

The Chimaera was rocked by another explosion, and another.

"All troops to battle stations! Scramble all Fighters and Interceptors! This is a full alert!" Pellaeon barked orders into the ship's comm system. "If you encounter any Republic forces in the air, do not engage! The new attackers are our top priority!"

"We're going to have to fight our way out of here," Luke announced to his friends and the Admiral. "They're coming."

"I'd say I hope you're wrong," Han said as he drew his blaster from the holster, "but I've known you for too long to expect it."

"Admiral, we have multiple hull breaches on decks four through seven!" a voice shouted on the other end of the comm. "The enemy has---they're here! We've been boarded! Admiral, we must get you to the escape pods before --AAAAAAAAAAUUUUUGGGGHHHHH!"

The Imperial Officer's dying scream was not the end of the transmission, however, as the line remained active. Seconds later, a series of horrible, screeching electronic voices could be heard.

"PLANETFALL ON CORUSCANT IS COMPLETED! ATTACK CORRIDOR ESTABLISHED! BATTLE-FLEET IN FORMATION!"

"MULTIPLE LIFE FORMS DETECTED! PRIORITY HOSTILE DETECTED ON THE BRIDGE! MOVE TO LOCATION AND EXTERMINATE ALL LIFE FORMS!"

"I OBEY!"

"Admiral, Leia, stay behind me," Luke said calmly to them, the Jedi Master drawing his lightsaber from his belt. On the other side of the door, dozens of Stormtroopers were firing their blasters, the sound of their gunfire cut off by their screams.

Han aimed his blaster at the heavy blast door, waiting for whatever was behind it to get through. The room resounded with a snap-hisssss followed by a deadly hum as Luke's lightsaber activated, its lethal green blade ready.

"Here they come."

With a loud BOOOOOM, the blast doors blew apart, and in through the smoke and the rubble came the hateful things that had caught the most treasured planet in the Galaxy unaware.

http://img291.imageshack.us/img291/5849/evolutionofthedaleks2.jpg

"EXTERMINATE!"
"EXTERMINATE!"
"EXTERMINATE!"

Eddie Brock

06-30-2010, 08:56 PM

I'm no big Who fan - I've only watched two seasons - but I always found the Daleks underwhelming, personally.

Andy C.

06-30-2010, 10:22 PM

The Question

06-30-2010, 10:52 PM

The Daleks I think have a bad case of Darth-Vader-Syndrome, where they have to rely on the instantly-recognizable voices and the scary music to overcome the fact that they look really silly. That being said, a Dalek in a fight is no slouch, mainly because of that insta-kill laser gun of theirs.

I think their over all persona and abilities more than make up for their appearance. So what if they look like goofy salt shakers? They're foot soldiers of a fascist empire who's closest thing to a religion is institutionalized worship of their state, the idea that they are the perfect form of life, and absolute hatred of all other forms of life, and who's sole purpose in life is to cause all other creatures to suffer and die as much as possible. And they have laser beams with power settings ranging from "kill someone slowly and painfully" to "demolish a skyscraper." They look goofy, but they're scary in action.

Carnage27

06-30-2010, 10:58 PM

I've got a great uber-crossover in mind that I've always wanted to write a complete fan-fic for, but I've never had a time or a place to do it. Anyway, I think I'll write an intro/teaser for it at some point this weekend.

Andy C.

06-30-2010, 11:21 PM

I think their over all persona and abilities more than make up for their appearance. So what if they look like goofy salt shakers? They're foot soldiers of a fascist empire who's closest thing to a religion is institutionalized worship of their state, the idea that they are the perfect form of life, and absolute hatred of all other forms of life, and who's sole purpose in life is to cause all other creatures to suffer and die as much as possible. And they have laser beams with power settings ranging from "kill someone slowly and painfully" to "demolish a skyscraper." They look goofy, but they're scary in action.

Well said. The Series 4 finale 'The Stolen Earth' was a great example of how the Daleks simply are not to be ****ed with. Although the follow-up 'Journey's End' did get a little silly.

Carnage27

07-01-2010, 07:54 PM

Okay, so I just want to preface/explain where the following post came from. It's basically a League of Extraordinary Gentlemen-type deal with basically everything that helped shape my childhood smashed into one universe. It's what me and my friends would play like when we were younger, and it's a concept that has never truly left my mind, and I've added newer material as I saw fit, and subtracted stuff that I felt didn't fir with the overall feel of the universe. It may not be the best or most original story, but it's something I've always want to put down on a hard copy and out of my mind.

Anyway, this is just kind of a teaser that gives the overall feel of the Universe as well as some of the different characters/universes that make it up. Here we go...

The Shadow Wars
Episode I:Part 1
Darkness Rising

The troop transport jostles me from my meditation, bringing me back into the present, and out of my mind. Looking around at the vessel’s seating area, I can’t help but marvel at the commandos surrounding me. They’re battle hardened, confident, and obviously ready for the battle to come. Me on the other hand? Well, let’s just say this will be my first foray onto the field of war. Pressure right?

Don’t get me wrong, being a Jedi has put me in the middle of some pretty hairy situations. But this is war. This isn’t a skirmish with a few Imperial Remnant stormtroopers, or one or two dark Jedi. This is war.

“Calm yourself, Padawan,” Jedi Master Kyle Katarn says from the seat next to me. “Allow the Force to flow through you. Remember, it calms us and gives us strength. With it on our side, the coming darkness will not be able to defeat us.”

I nod and offer him a slight smile. Master Katarn has been my Jedi Master for almost nine years at this point, and I couldn’t have asked for a better teacher. He was brave, strong, wise, and a terrific lightsaber instructor. But sometimes I feel like I’ll never be a great hero like him and Master Skywalker. “I know, Master. I try.”

“Remember, as Master Skywalker has said, ‘Do or do not. There is no try.’” He replies with a wink, which I return with a smile.

Of course, in the coming conflict, “do or do not” translates to “live or die.”

**********

Twelve years ago

“Feel the air around you, my son,” my father commands as the two of us meditate in a field behind our house on the planet Gaia. The sun is shining brightly, and the wind whips through the long grass around us. “It calls to you, surrounds you, and you can control it. It will bend to your will as if it were and extension of your body. But always respect its power. For if you do not, it will consume you.”

I move slowly through the motions of our Tai Chi regimen, and head his instructions. The wind on the plains begins to whip around us. I concentrate harder, and the gales pick the two of us off the ground and into the sky. I take a seated, meditative position, and my father does the same as we begin to circle one another in the cyclone. After a few moments of doing so, we settle back down onto the grass, father smiling from ear to ear, “You have learned so much, my son. I am proud of you. Never forget that…and never forget where you came from.”

Tears begin to well up in father’s eyes, and I cannot blame him for it. But his request is an easy one. Where I came from. Gaia. A beautiful planet on the edge of the Outer Rim. It was quiet, and relatively peaceful. But our people held and ancient power to control the four elements of the universe: fire, water, earth, and air. Each nation on our planet controlled one of the said elements, and none could master the others. Except for one. Except for me. I have the ability to harness all four of the elements to do my biding.

I’m special. Or so they say. I’m one of the ones the prophecy for told of. One of the heroes that would vanquish the darkness and bathe the galaxy in light.

And on top of that, I was marked for Jedi training almost the day I was born, and am leaving tomorrow. Leaving Gaia. Leaving father.

But I will never forget this place. I will never forget my father, or my friends. But most of all, I will not forget my duty or my destiny.

After all, how does one forget they are supposed to be a great hero?

How does one forget that they are the Avatar?

**********
Now

The transport sets down in a lush, green field that make up the grounds of the castle-like fortification that the assembled Allied force has taken up as their base of operations. It was where they were to make the first stand against the tide of shadows that was rolling across the various star systems of the galaxy. It was where they would show the darkness that they would not go quietly without a fight.

The troops around me stand and march out it militaristic regularity, and Master Katarn and I follow closely behind. The view from outside of the transport is both breathtaking and frightening. Artillery and tanks line the ridge of the hill which the castle rests upon, and soldiers mill about the otherwise tranquil grounds.

It’s good to feel good, strong earth underneath my feet. Whether it’s derived from my ancestral powers or from some other irrational dislike, but I've always hated space travel. It always seems so cold and...dead in space.

Master Katarn and I walk briskly towards the castle, and on the way I feel many familiar presences in the Force, and I cannot help but smile. As we approach the frontal command center, I sneak up behind two fellow padawans and drape my arms over their shoulders, “So, who’s ready to take on some bad guys.”

“Aang!” the male Jedi turns and gives me a hug, “It’s good to see you!”

“Same to you, Jacen,” I respond with a smile, before turning to the other and bowing. “Jaina.”

“Terrific to see you, Aang,” she says returning the bow with a slight smile. “I hope we are ready. Because I’m sure they will be.”

**********

Seven years ago

A lightsaber comes down towards me, and I react quickly to bring mine up to smack the attack away. I harness the Force and push away from my attacker, which sends him sliding backwards. But just as I stand and enter a defensive stand, a second saber attempts to strike me from the other side.

In a flurry of light and the sounds of clashing sabers, the two sabers swing wildly at me. Allowing myself to be fully immersed in the Force, my movements come with blinding speed. Unfortunately so do theirs, and I’m quickly forced back towards the room’s wall.

Before getting there, however, I spring of the ground, and summon a gust of air beneath me, launching myself into the air even higher. Once I reach my highest point, I toss my saber towards the others, guiding it, and myself, down with the Force. The blade strikes the others, but the training setting barely singes the hairs on their hands.

As I land, Jaina Solo complains, “That’s no fair! He used his bending powers!”

“Jaina, a Jedi must use all the skills at their disposal, as well as being ready for all of his opponents. Remember that my apprentices,” a calm, confident voice calls from the corner of the room. Jedi Master Luke Skywalker motions for us, along with Jaina’s brother Jacen, to sit at his feet. “The three have you have become very close these past few years, along with becoming excellent students. I merely sat you down to say how very proud I am of you. Now, go have some fun, and keep up the good work.”

“Thank you, Master Skywalker!” the three of us reply, each of us smiling at each other.

**********

Now

As Jacen, Jaina, and I reminisce and catch up on each other’s activities from the past few months, Master Skywalker exits the castle’s front gates into the courtyard we’ve been lounging in. His look is calm, but obviously focused on the hardships that lie in all of our direct futures.

“Jedi!” he calls out to all of us assembled. “Please follow me. The local generals wish to speak with us. And yes, that means you as well, padawans.”

**********
Three years ago

“Is it true, Masters?” I ask sheepishly. Luke and Kyle both turn to me, obviously the same horrible thoughts going through their heads. “Is it true on of the dark ones has returned?”

“We are not sure, young one,” Master Katarn replies. “We’re still attempting to discern whether or not it is true.”

“If it is…I’m ready. I know what I have to do,” I say with the slightest shutter in my voice.

Master Skywalker approaches me and takes a knee, “We know you are ready, Aang. And you must know, when you face this evil, you will not be alone. All the forces of the light will be by your side.”

**********
Now

As we traverse the winding halls of the castle, I can’t help but marvel at the native people as the rush to secure its defenses in the face of the oncoming onslaught. They put up shields and protections I could only have dreamed of as if they were the simplest of tasks.

After what seems like a millennia of hallways, we reach a large antechamber, where a great many robed inividuals are huddled over a three-dimensional map of the castle and its surroundings.

As we enter, one of them, an ancient looking man with a long beard and half-moon glasses approaches us with his arms spread wide in a welcoming posture. “Master Jedi! I’m glad you are here. And I fear it’s not a moment too soon, for you see…”

http://i35.photobucket.com/albums/d198/albus-percival/dumbledore.jpg

“Evil is about to fall on Hogwarts.”

The Question

07-01-2010, 08:56 PM

Well said. The Series 4 finale 'The Stolen Earth' was a great example of how the Daleks simply are not to be ****ed with. Although the follow-up 'Journey's End' did get a little silly.

And what makes it all the more hilarious is that these evil foot soldiers of hatred and nightmares incarnate were originally created solely for the purpose of teaching children about static electricity.

Eddie Brock

07-08-2010, 01:41 AM

Here's a story I'd love to write for All-Star Marvel, but I'm already carrying three characters, so instead I'll just give a taste here:

NEW YORK CITY
CHINATOWN
RED DRAGON DOJO

The bell on the door rings softly throughout the empty dojo. "Sorry, we're closed," announces a pleasant voice from an adjoining room. Moments later, a blond-haired man steps out. While drying his hands with a white towel, he repeats, "We just closed, sir. Come back tomorrow."

The grizzled old man keeps his hands buried in his pockets. "Daniel Rand, son of Wendell Rand?" he asks, his voice deep and scratchy from countless years of smoking and drinking.

Danny narrows his eyes suspiciously. "I'm him," he answers, still unsure how this stranger knew his father's name. Danny finishes with the towel and lets it drop to the floor. He begins sizing up the stranger as a reflex.

"I can't explain everything here," the stranger explains urgently. "Suffice it to say, you're in grave danger." He checks over his shoulder before shifting his narrow gaze back to Danny. "My name is Orson Randall, and you really need to come with me."

Danny notices suspicious bulges underneath the man's jacket. If he's armed, this could be a very lopsided fight. "I think you should leave," Danny says slowly. He subtly plants his feet and locates his center-of-balance, ready to strike on a moment's notice.

"Daniel, there's no time for this," Randall grunts irritably. "He's coming for you right now."

"Who's comi--?"

Before Danny can finish, a black car screeches past the dojo. On its second pass, an unseen passenger holds an Uzi out the window and opens fire. Danny ducks behind a counter while Randall reaches into his jacket. Drawing two M1911 pistols, Randall spins and returns fire on the attackers.

"****!"

Suddenly, Randall's hands begin to glow a burning orange. The bullets from his gun sail across the dojo to the other side of the street, where they explode like artillery shells. Innocent bystanders take cover as the shootout erupts into a full-blown standoff.

Finally, amidst the explosions and the gunfire, a shirtless man steps out of the black car. His chest brandishes a large snake tattoo. He stares daggers at Randall, barely paying any attention to the mayhem surrounding him.

"****, it's him." Randall presses the magazine release buttons on both his pistols, letting the empty magazines fall to the ground. Tucking his pistols away in the holsters underneath his jacket, Randall grabs Danny by the arm and begins leading him to the back door. "We've gotta move. Now."

Danny glances over his shoulder at the shirtless man, who is now stepping through a shattered pane of glass into the dojo. "Who is that guy?"

"The Steel Serpent, and he's here for you."

sabetoonth

07-30-2010, 02:14 AM

OK i might have to contribute to this, im saying something so i have to follow through eventually

Saved

08-10-2010, 01:17 AM

Avengers
Development
II

Recap:
In an attempt to assist the Avengers with a more versatile and powerful ally, Hank Pym – the Ant-Man – constructed the artificial life-form known as Ultron. At first, Ultron’s appeared to be a valuable asset to the team – serving as an efficient member both in combat and around the tower for necessary tasks. But, unfortunately, after a new upgrade Pym installed into his mechanized ‘son’, Ultron became self-aware, gaining free thought and will. It soon saw its allies as corrupt and fraudulent – seeing its creator as selfish and malevolent. Rebelling against its friends and surrogate father, Ultron attacked the Avengers in a vicious battle. Luckily, the Avengers prevailed; however, Avengers Tower was destroyed during the fighting. The Avengers now work hard to rebuild their headquarters – pulling together and working as a team to achieve their goals …

****

Avengers Tower

Amidst the open plot of land, the Avengers work hard as they reconstruct their mighty fortress. Iron Man flies in from the East, carrying heavy girders for the steel frame. Hank Pym works hard to place the metal pieces into place – enlarging his body and growing to the height of a skyscraper to fulfil his task. Above, Thor uses the mighty Mjolnir to secure the girders into place – hammering rivets through the steel beams and securing deftly.

“Feel mine wrath!” Thor shouts, flying over to the next corner of the building. He eyes up the rivet sticking out from the two girders, raising his arm and preparing to strike. “Have at thee, wretched nail!” He cries, swinging his hammer forward. The stone edge connects, hitting the rivet squarely. To Thor’s amazement, the rivet remains untouched – refusing to budge.

“Ah, a skirmish you wisheth, then? Verily,” he begins, swinging his arm back once again as he prepares another attempt. “Then that you shall receive!” Once more, he swings Mjolner, hitting the rivet, just as before. Still, the rivet remains unaffected, and Thor fills with rage.

“Thou DARE defy the son of Odin?!” He growls, rumbling the skies above. “Vile beast, knowest thou not with whom thou dealst? I shall strikest thee a THIRD time, and yee shall YEILD!” With a grandious swing, Thor bats the rivet again, this time bending it, and jamming the rivet unsuccessfully where it lies. “LOKI!!!!”

“You know, Thor, Loki’s not behind every bad thing that happens to you,” Hank Pym speaks from above as his towering figure approaches the Asgardian warrior. The suit he wears is different from before, just as are his powers – adorning his body is now a yellow and black jumpsuit, the symbol of a fierce insect brazen on his chest. “Try taking some responsibility for once, huh?”

“You’re one to talk about responsibility, Pym,” Iron Man says as he hovers to join the two heroes. His jets roar as the combustion within his heels and palms burns, spewing sparks and heat in a wild stream of light. “You’re the one who caused this mess, Ant-d*****.”

“I told you, Tony, it’s not Ant-Man now – it’s Yellow Jacket.”
“Oh, great,” Iron Man says with heavy sarcasm. “Now you’re having an identity crisis. What’s the matter, Ant’s decide to shun you?”
“Real mature, Tony,” Hank says with a scowl.“By the way, nice flying back there – little wobbly, there. Speaking of which, how’s AA?”
“How’s Jan?” He quickly retorts.“I haven’t seen her in a while, where’s she been?”

“…She’s … been … busy,” Hank stammers, struggling for a reply.
“Sure she’s not in divorce court?” He asks, grinning beneath the metal mask. “Last I heard, she got Murdock to represent her. Good thing you’ve got nothing to your name, because you would’ve lost it all anyway.”

“YOU SHUT YOUR MOUTH!” He roars, grinding his teeth in rage.
“Uh-oh, there’s that rage again. You gonna beat me too?”
“Uh, I woundn’t provoketh Giant Man, Iron warrior,” Thor speaks up in a diplomatic tone. “He seems to be brewing with unbridled fury like the Fafnir 'fore it unleashes its wrath.”
“Oh, don’t worry, Thor – I’m not married to him, he won’t hit me.”
“WHY YOU-“

“HEY!” A voice shouts from below, stalling the confrontation before it begins. The three heroes look down to see Captain America approaching fast, leaping from beam to beam as he rises up the building’s unfinished skeleton to meet his teammates. “Knock it off, you guys! This is NOT how Avengers behave.” The three heroes drop their heads, sinking in shame.

“He started it,” Tony mutters.

“I don’t care who started it, stop it right now. We’re a team, gosh darnit! How are we supposed to take on the forces of evil if we can’t even work together to rebuild Avengers Tower?”

“Yeah,” Hank says, nodding slowly. “I guess you’re right, Ste-“
“Why, I remember back during World War II, we were moving in on the location of a Nazi stronghold. It was me, Bucky, four other soldiers, and freedom. We must’ve been outnumbered, twenty to one – no fifty to one! Not to mention the tactical advantage the krauts had with their fortress. I remember, we approached at dawn – must’ve been 600 hours … or was it 500 hours? No, no … must’ve been half past five – yes – I had just finished instructing Bucky in the proper way to dig a trench, not with a shovel or bayonet, but with your own hands. Built character, and that’s the one thing you can’t buy or steal – you’ve got to earn that, I’ll tell you what. Yes, I’d rather have one man with a lot of character, than twenty without-“ As Steve continues to droan on, Hank, Tony, and Thor all look at each other with a weary expression.

“Here he goes again,” Hank groans, rolling his eyes.
“Yep – talking about the glory days.”
“Think he’ll get to the point?” Hank asks hopefully.
“Depends. Is he at the part where he punches Red Skull yet?” They listen briefly, fading back into Steve’s speech as the Captain continues to monologue.

“That’s when we burst into the castle and saw him, the Red Skull, my mortal enemy! Ah, I remember how evil his glare was – shot right through you like a lueger. His hideous red face and that twisted smile. If I’d had the chance, I’d-“

“Nope,” Hank says, fading back out once again.
“He’s told this story forty times now.”
“Yeah, and it’s the same thing every time – he even keeps the same tangents he goes off on.”
“Verily.”
“Look, I’m sorry about what I said, Hank,” Tony apologies in a sincere tone. “I’m just pissed because Ultron destroyed my liquor cabinet.”
“I’m sorry too, Tony,” Hank says with a smile. “I shouldn’t mock your handicap – I know how much you struggle with that.”
“Haha, yeah. Look, how’s about we all get out of here and go back to my place for a drink, huh?”
“I’d like that.”
"Aye!" Thor shouts in glee, grabbing his two friends in a powerful headlock within his powerful arms. "Mine best friends joining me for a hefty drink of mead! Come, let us quench our thirst and enjoyeth this reconcile!"
"...Riiiiight..."
"Thor," Tony moans within the armor - his voice strained. "Dentin' the merchandise, buddy."Thor releases his grip and gives them a clueless smile, unaware of his own strength and its ramnifications.

The three soon take off - Hank walking nimbly through the city streets as Iron Man and Thor follow closely behind. In the distance, Steve continues to speak, recalling his old experiences as he tries to empower his team –encouraging their resolve. As the three avengers make their way toward Stark Industries, Tony flies up by Hank, hovering close by his ear.

“By the way, Jan’s not … seeing anyone, right?”
“What?”
"Nothing .. ”

sabetoonth

08-10-2010, 04:14 AM

ok, so just as i got on the Marvel 2099 RPG went under, i was really looking forward to it, my first RPG ever, well i had it set up for Dustan Brock, aka Venom, go into the total nut house that was NYC since the Manderin had set up stuff for some **** to go down in NYC, this is part of what ive written up so far for what didnt get IC posted
[In the Air Heading East]

“Sir, you can now access your phone if you would like.” The stewardess tapped Dustan on the shoulder alerting him that they were safely in the air.

“Thank you, ma’am.” Brock gave her a smile and watched her leave so he knew he would have some privacy, he did buy all the tickets in 1st class after all. As Dustan withdrew his phone from his pocket he sifted through any unread messages, text video, or audio and found none. He scrolled through the contacts on this one finding Mike. Using speed-dial he called back home.

“Hey Mike, its Dust, I’m in the air now, should be on the east coast in about an hour or so.” He hung up the phone confident his message went through. Reclining in his seat he prepared for a well deserved nap.

[East Coast, Outside of New York City, New York]

“The whole place is a giant nut house, how am I supposed to get in?” Dustan asked Mike over the phone.

“There should be a sewer pipe somewhere around where you are, it’ll take you down into the sewers and from there you can climb through feces and excrement until you make it into the city, where Marshall Law has been implemented by Alchemex.” Mike informed Brock over the device.

“Crawling through crap and piss?” Dust answered back. “Must be Thursday.” He heard Mike chuckle before hanging up the phone letting the symbiote in the form of his pants engulf it and hold it safe.

“You ready for this?” He inquired of his pants; telepathically he knew it was saying yes. He found the pipe, it was big and black and grey and old. As he climbed into it the suit stretched over his face.

“Here we go.” he sank into the putrid soup. Swimming through it was like swimming through water, for him at least, the alien suit cleaned the vision so he knew where he was going. He maneuvered through the sludge and slime, piss and ****.

Blacklight

08-16-2010, 06:14 PM

Previously in Ultimate Spider-Man: Season VI...
http://www.freewebs.com/blacklight521/ult.ricochetbannerVI.bmp

I'm hurt... badly. Need... to get up. To continue the fight... Damn it... I can't go down like this... Mary Jane. He knows... He knows about her. He might come after her... Gotta stop him...

"Hey--AAAGGHH!!! Come... back here..."

The Spider-Man looked at me as he was about to swing away, and he took no longer than a moment to look at me, lying there. Defeated...

"And you called me pathetic..."

The last thing I saw was him swinging away as it was all starting to blur. Guess this is what I get for not keeping an eye on my injuries. They really do add up...

"No-uuunnhhh.............."

* * *
Triskellion...

It's funny when you pass out sometimes, because sometimes it's just completely black for just a second before you wake up... Other times you see your loved ones. Hear their voices. This was one of those times...

"Parker?"

Mary Jane...

"Parker? Parker, get up... PARKER!!"

"No I'm not Tony Stark's butt-buddy! Wait.... Fury?!?" I yelled out as I regained my consciousness. I looked to find myself in my torn and ripped up costume, but my mask and wig were removed, and I was in a bright blue-barriered cell, and in front of me was none other than General Nick Fury. What a real 'peach'...

"Kid, what in God's name were you dreaming about?"

"Well, sir... There was this huge Superhero Civil War, and I was on Iron Man's side and I revealed my identity to the whole worl--"

"Nevermind. Now you have some explaining to do, Parker... Like just what the HELL you thought you were doing parading as this "Ricochet" character?"

After gulping so loud that I thought he could hear it through the barrier, I approached the speaker...

"Yeah... About that. Sometimes I think I'm as bad as Moon Knight when it comes to the identity department. Anyways, I have a good reason for doing what I did, General..." I began, preparing to face the music.

"I recall a day when a man came up to me. A very powerful man, and he said to stop being Spider-Man... Now, I took that advice in stride, and I even tried to listen. I gave it all up, tried to be normal, until I realized I just couldn't do it, and all the 'being normal' stuff I tried... It was all moot. Because in the end, I was neglecting my responsibilities to the people of this city. The people I protect to honor my uncle, and what he would've wanted me to be if he knew what I could do. However, I thought to myself, how can I continue to act responsibly with my powers, but not be Spider-Man? With a little help from my girlfriend of course, and thus... Well, you know. This..." I said grabbing my suit and showing him.

"Interesting, Parker. I'm also glad to hear you listened to me, because honestly I was about to kill you right here and now for disobeying me. But you managed to convince me otherwise, now that I know that a**hole running around in the red and blue out there right now ain't you..."

"Uhh... thanks? I guess."

There isn't really much of a way to thank someone for NOT killing you, is there?...

"However I can't let you be Ricochet anymore either... We've got bigger problems."

"What!? Why the hell not!?"

"Because, that fake Spidey you were fighting... It's... It's not human. We need you to handle him..."

"How? You just said I can't do it as Ricochet, and you made it very clear I can't do it as Spider-Man either..."

"I never said that..."

"Wait... what?"

"I've realised something else today, Peter. I'm not going to say the world needs a Spider-Man, because it went damn near two milleniums without one, but one thing I do know is that without Spider-Man out there cleaning up the streets, others who thnk they can be Spidey will do it, and some, as you can see from the footage..."

He pointed at a monitor that showed the brutality this Spider-Man was commiting on criminals, as well as video from my fight earlier with... it.

"...Won't have motives quite as noble as yours."

"So... your saying that?--"

"I'm saying that at least I know that if your out there swinging from skyscrapers, then that'll be one less Spider-Man I have to worry about."

"That means... I can be Spider-Man again?"

"It means "Do whatever the f*** you want, kid, as long as you don't cross me, because then I personally will hunt you down and break every f****** bone in your damn body". Now go, before I change my mind..."

"Thank you, Fury. You won't regret this..."

"I better not. Now go. Take care of that thing..."

The blue barrier from the cell then shut down as Fury let me go, and as I rushed past him to the door at the end of the cells, I gave him one last look before I took my leave. He just nodded, and then I turned back to the door, and I was out like a Goblin in heat...

* * *

"General... If I may ask, why did you let the Parker kid continue to run around as a vigilante again? He causes more harm than good..."

"Because, Ms. Danvers... I'd like to think he doesn't, and that he can help this godforsaken city. Besides, it's the least I can do, because as soon as he's legal, his whole life is mine. As far as I'm concerened, his whole body, like Banner's and Rogers', is property of SHIELD. So I want him to spend what little time he has left doing his own thing, before he becomes our little puppet, just like Steve. Just like Banner. Just like the rest of 'em..."

General Fury looked out the window of his office intently, staring down at the city below him. One of the most powerful men in the world, staring at his city like it was his snowglobe...

"Just like the rest of 'em..."

http://www.freewebs.com/blacklight521/ult.spideybannerVI.bmp

One hour later...

*THWIP!*

http://i584.photobucket.com/albums/ss289/blacklight521/untitledscanned16ra7.jpg

At the risk of sounding really cliche... MAN does it feel good to be back in my old suit! I kinda missed it to tell you the truth. It's like my second skin. Not to mention the fact that I find it much more fashionable than the motorcycle jacket and tights ensemble that was my Ricochet suit.

But do you know what the best part of this is? I can call myself 'Spidey' again when I'm doing my inner monologues! I mean let's face it: Rico just didn't have that ring to it...

So here I am, swinging through Chelsea with the newly repaired webshooters, and that all too familiar breeze brushing against my face as I reach the end of my swing arc is just pure bliss. I missed this too. Sure as hell beats running around and jumping off rooftops. Much less legwork.

But the time for fun is over. Now it's time to get back to the task at hand: Finding the Spider-Doppelganger. Not only because I'm ready for Round 2 with this creep... but also because Fury told me to take care of it or he would snap my pasty little neck.

I tell ya. Nick Fury is one of the best motivational speakers on the planet. Whether the planet likes it or not...

"Hmm... If I were Spider-Man, where would I be?"

Duh! I am Spider-Man... again.

Well... There's three possible choices:

A) My house.
B) My school.
or C) The Bugle.

Please let it be 'C'...

Although, New York is a BIG city. He could be anywhere...

Think, Parker! Think!

"I got it!"

Instead of looking for him, maybe I should get him to come after me. He does want to be the new Spidey in town, so if word were to get out that I'm back, he should come looking. To eliminate the competition, I'd wager.

And what better way to announce my return to the public than to pay a visit to the editor of one of New York's most prestigious newspapers?

That last part was sarcasm, by the way. But I wasn't kidding about the first part.

I think it's time this Friendly Neighborhood Web-Slinger pays Jolly Jonah a long-awaited visit...

*THWIP!*

http://i584.photobucket.com/albums/ss289/blacklight521/400px-Spiderman005.jpg

Saved

08-16-2010, 06:21 PM

When I made Peter change to Ricochet in Ultimate Marvel, I actually had a point and an endgame before I dropped him. I might go back and do that here...

Blacklight

08-16-2010, 06:31 PM

When I made Peter change to Ricochet in Ultimate Marvel, I actually had a point and an endgame before I dropped him. I might go back and do that here...
I'd like to see it, myself. I could only hope my ending was half as good as what you had planned from the start.:up:

Saved

08-16-2010, 06:45 PM

Not to kiss anyone's butt, or anything - but I actually was pretty proud of your work as Spidey in my stead. I left you in a precarious spot, considering no one knew where I was going with Spidey - and you picked it up and worked it out to get him back to his proper title without using extreme plots and what have you, all the while keeping him in character. Kudos, man. :up:

Blacklight

08-16-2010, 08:04 PM

Eddie Brock

08-16-2010, 08:08 PM

Internet group hug!

Andy C.

08-17-2010, 04:51 AM

*joins the group hug uninvited, and holds it far too long for comfort*

Yeah....that's nice......

Andy C.

09-21-2010, 09:49 AM

Here's a sample of a concept universe that MB and I put together a while ago, but felt that it wouldn't garner enough support to actually survive as a fully-fledged RPG. Even though it probably wouldn't actually last as a game, the idea was just too much fun to let go.

"Biggest Scoop of Your Life"

"Well, Lois," I mutter to myself in the back seat of the sedan as we head towards the outskirts of town, "now you've really gone and done it."

Seems like years ago that I was put on this assignment, Mr. White finally giving me my big chance after months of razzing him for it. A chance at a big scoop, some real news, not like the usual glitz and glamor rot that he's had me and Cat doing for the last year and a half. Something better than covering the jewelry and dresses of the upper crust of the city, watching them pretend that the rest of Metropolis doesn't exist as it falls apart around them. A real pursuit of truth and justice. Like any reporter worth her salt should want.

Of course, that's what got me into this mess in the first place.

Jimmy trembles in the seat next to me as we approach the bridge that takes us out of the city, trying as hard as he can not to cry. Poor kid; I never should've gotten him involved in all this. It wasn't any of his business. But I needed pictures for my story, and he needed the money.

"We'll be at the scrap yard in about five minutes," the driver says with a sneer in his voice. "That oughta give you time ta come up with some fittin' last words."

I look out the back window and see the towers of Metropolis shrinking into the distance, the columns of smoke from the Lexco Industries factories blending into the clouds.

Lexco. According to many, it's what "saved" our city from getting wiped out like so many others. Before Lexco, we were out of work, on the brink, some of us near starving, Centennial Park beginning to grow a Hooverville to rival the really big and bad ones in New York and Gotham. Then the generous and genius Mister Luthor set up shop, and within a year, we were turning things around. "The City of Tomorrow" they call us.

Of course, it was too good to be true, and everyone knew it.

A few months ago, a worker from Lexco, a janitor by the name of Rudy Jones, came to the Daily Planet and said he had information, secrets that Mister Luthor didn't want anyone to know. As much influence as he'd had on the city, nobody really knew much about him; most people still just wanted a handout anywhere they could take it, and knew better than to ask questions about people like him. There were rumors, of course--Mister Luthor killed his parents to get their inheritance, Mister Luthor was dealing with the bosses of the Gambino and Manheim families, even some saying Mister Luthor was making weapons and selling them overseas to the Nazis--but no one could get anything more than rumors. Rudy Jones was the first lead we had to finally blowing the lid on Lexco.

Not long after, Rudy Jones disappeared without a trace.

One of the Planet's best reporters, Ron Troupe, was put on the assignment of digging up what exactly happened to Mr. Jones and why. He hounded the MPD detectives for any clue they could, but in the end, Captain Turpin and his boys came up dry, and the investigation was called off. While the boys in blue may have given up the search, Troupe was still on the case, confident he was on the verge of finding the big scoop.

Then about a week ago, Troupe disappeared too. But not before handing his notes to yours truly.

"Come on, Perry, you can't let them get away with this!" I said. "Troupe's got enough leads here that I know I can get the goods on Mister Luthor if you just let me follow them. I can handle it, just let me go after Lexco, and I promise you I'll give you the biggest scoop of your life!"

Eventually, I was able to wear him down. Perry gave my usual material to the new guy--a big fella from the Dust Bowl states by the name of Kent--and I was off to tackle what was going on behind closed doors at Lexco. I got exactly what I wanted.

Lucky me, huh?

Which leads us to where we are now, stepping out of the sedan into the scrap yard, surrounded by rusted out cars and ruined heaps of metal. Another car pulls up, and five men in suits step out, all with a cold look in their eyes. The look of killers.

Jimmy and I snuck into the Lexco building earlier this morning to find whatever it was that Rudy Jones was willing to risk his life to tell us. Now we're probably going to be buried right next to him, along with Ron Troupe and God knows how many others.

"So how about dem last words, eh, doll?" our captor says, a glint in his eye to show how much he enjoys doing this.

"Yeah," I say with a sneer. "Don't call me doll."

The man shrugs, then signals to the others.

"Okay boys, let 'er---*OOF!*"

There's a powerful gust of wind and a blur of motion, then suddenly the man goes flying through the air, knocked off his feet like he'd been hit with a cannon. There, standing right next to where the gangster was, is....a man in a cape?

"W-w-what the--?!" Jimmy stammers to himself.

"GET HIM!" one of the hired guns shouts, and the scrap yard erupts with shots. I close my eyes, not wanting to see the good Samaritan who tried to save our lives get gunned down in front of us.

To my surprise, I don't hear him fall. Instead, I hear more grunts of pain from the gangsters, even terrified shouts.

"Nuts to this, let's GET OUTTA HERE!" one cries out, and I hear the sound of the other sedan start up.

When I open my eyes, I see the craziest thing I've ever seen in my life.

And considering I live in Metropolis, that's really saying something.

http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b73/nowhereman716/Comics/action_comics_0001.jpg

"Jimmy?" I say. "Tell me you're getting a shot of this. Because I think we just found the biggest scoop of the century."

TO BE CONTINUED, IN THE FURTHER CHRONICLES OF....

http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b73/nowhereman716/Comics/1285-DCComicsLogoSticker.gif

Catman_prb

11-25-2010, 03:12 PM

The beginning of what we think of as 'the Golden Age of Heroes' started really with one man; Superman. Some may say that there were heroes before him, some cite the Batman as revealing himself before Big Blue. They may well be right. But nonetheless Superman was the first one to really embed himself into the public consciousness. The first documented heroics of Superman are reletively unremarkable. Junior reporter Lois Lane was kidnapped by a small time mobster when investigating a corrupt senator. Superman rescued her, hospitalising a number of petty crooks and dropping the mobster off at the police station, complete with a pile of evidence.

It's strange to think that these humble beginnings mark the start of the Golden Age. When we think of the exploits of Superman these days, they normally concern aliens, robots, and eldritch demi-gods. But this is the first of many, and does not tell of the things to come, and not just for Superman. In time, others arrived, and events began to snow-ball. When Superman punched that first crook I doubt he could have predicted how everything would end. I doubt that anyone could have.
- From The Golden Age: The First Heroes, J. L. Gaddis, 2004

How did it start? That's a really good question. One that I kept asking myself, all the way through it. I think it started as a whole when a young man left his small-town farm and saw the corruption at work in the big city. Of course, I know more than most do about this, so it's kind of unfair on the real historians who spend their life doing this, y'know? Well some of it the man himself told me, some of it I worked out myself. Either way, that's not how it started for me. I've lived in Gotham all my life. It was a real dump back then, not like it is now. So when you see someone cleaning up the streets like he did...well, can you see how a ten year old might get inspired, can't you?
- T. Drake, quoted in Clash Of The Titans: Teenagers In The Age Of Heroes, by Walter Thompson

It was stupid. That's what it was. This wasn't the first time it all happened, and it all went badly before. Me and the Society...it didn't go so well is all I mean. So the idea that they could just start putting masks on again, and forget all about the stuff that we went through...the stuff that we did? That really got my goat. I remember I was talking to Ted Grant, Wildcat, when the news started breaking about Superman, Batman, the new Green Lantern, god even Wonder Woman. Teddy was real fond of the newsreels of Wonder Woman. I remember I said "Doesn't this seem like a real bad idea to you?"

Ted just shrugged it off. He was that kind of guy, you would really have liked him. Everyone always did. Then a while later he said "Maybe they can be better than us?"

Like they could unwrite our wrongs, y'know? Anyway, real bad idea. 'Course Ted had worked it out already. I'll be honest, that surprised me. I always figured that I was smarter than Ted. Anyway, "God dammit, they're only kids!" I said. God, I was so high on my own smoke.

Ted knew I was. He just looked at me, real cool like, and said "We were kids once. And we should help 'em out. Lord knows they're going to need it,"

And that's when I figured it out too. How this was all going to end up. I looked at that helmet again for the first time in years...Sorry, that's not what you wanted to talk about is it? You want me to talk to you about the Faultless Four, and Eclipso and all that stuff, don't you?
- "Man of Mercury", Flash Magazine v.1 issue 15

MASKED VIGILANTE BURNS DOWN WAREHOUSE DISTRICT

HUB CITY - A man who witnesses claim "had no face" was seen fleeing from the burning wreckage of Hub City's warehouse district late last night. Often a hideout for various street gangs, the district is becoming known as the place that the police department feared to tread. A dozen burnt bodies have been pulled from the warehouse where the fire started, all with a single bullet hole in the head. Sources from within the police department have mentioned that a substantial quantity of cocaine has been taken into evidence. So who is this faceless man? Is he a hero to rival Gotham's caped crusader? Or is he a serial killer who managed to do society a favour by accident? Unfortunately this is a question that may never be answered.
- Hub City Times, Vic Sage 18th November 1992

And with the heroes come the villains. Perhaps it is telling of the American psyche that the emergence of costumed heroes demands the creation of foes to match them. Could these vigilantes sate themselves on the organised crime of the various cities they inhabit forever? Unlikely in the extreme. Street level heroes such as the Green Arrow, or Batman in his formatitive stage maybe. The more human amongst them, perhaps, could have coped with fighting human evils. But the superhumans? The metahumans? How long could they last against the mobsters and the petty thiefs before they started pounding them to a fine paste? No, supervillains were inevitable. As such, should they not be seen in a more sympathetic light? Are they not the yin to Superman's yang? They provide society with a much needed commodity. If they are to be feared, then they are to be feared just as much as the so-called heroes who walk amongst us.
- Preface of Dr. Harleen Quinzell's essay 'Ubermensch', published prior to her committal to Arkham Asylum

Byrd Man

11-25-2010, 07:29 PM

I liked that :up:

I've always loved history and read a few oral biographies That'd be cool to see that approach to superheroes.

Andy C.

11-25-2010, 11:10 PM

Very cool, Cats. Reminds me of the additional material at the end of each chapter in Watchmen.

Catman_prb

11-26-2010, 10:25 AM

Quite fun to write as well. May carry this on.

Eddie Brock

12-13-2010, 09:28 PM

(Credit goes to SuperFerret for the original idea behind this.)

SPECTACULAR
By: E. Brock

Part I

Springtime in New York City. After another long, bitter winter, everything's coming back to life. Everything except me. While the last traces of snow melt and the trees begin to bud, the cancer cells inside of me continue to grow. The doctors put on a brave face, but the implication is clear. This will probably be my last spring. I didn't even get to finish high school. Cafeteria food looks like caviar and champagne compared to hospital food. It's a strange thing, dying. Before I was diagnosed, all I ever wanted to do was get away from high school. Now? I'd give anything to have it all back.

With a sigh, I close the shades on the window. I can't bear to look outside anymore. I shift uncomfortably in my hospital gown. Well, if this is my last year, there's no reason I can't enjoy it. I cross the room to my nightstand and pick up my newest toy. A camera. A Nikon 10.2-Megapixel D3000, to be exact. I cycle through the pictures I've already taken - shots of the hospital, the staff, the view from my window. I come to my favorite picture and stop.

http://i166.photobucket.com/albums/u118/EBJ05/gwen.jpg?t=1292294435

Gwen Stacy. I met her the week after I was first admitted. She's a medical student at NYU, and she's in the first year of her internship. Between my general insomnia and her working the night shift, we saw a lot of each other in those first few weeks. She's a real saint. I was having such a hard time with my diagnosis, and she was always there for me. It didn't matter that I was just some nerdy teenager. Gwen never saw me like that. I think she probably knows me better than anyone.

"Hey, tiger."

Mary Jane Watson. My attendant nurse. Also a total fox. MJ's been a big help in her own way, too. She has a personality as fiery as her hair color, and her constant energy always helps me stay upbeat.

"Cool camera. When'd you get it?"

"Two weeks ago, on my birthday," I explain. I hold the camera lovingly, knowing what Uncle Ben and Aunt May must've paid for it. I appreciate the gesture, but I really wish they had saved the money for themselves. I'm already enough of a drain on them with all these hospital bills. The last thing they need to be spending their money on is a $600 camera.

"Mind if I see?" MJ asks, holding out her hand. I give her the camera, and she looks through my pictures. As she does, I see her smile. "Wow! These are really good, Pete." She looks up at me. "You've got a real talent for this."

I give a little shrug. "I always liked photography. Ansel Adams, I think, once said, 'A great photograph is a full expression of what one feels about what is being photographed in the deepest sense, and is, thereby, a true expression of what one feels about life in its entirety.'" MJ hands the camera back to me, and I suggest, "Hey, why don't I get a picture of you?"

MJ laughs softly. "Okay, but don't make me look bad."

CLICK!

http://i166.photobucket.com/albums/u118/EBJ05/mj.jpg?t=1292296572

"Well, what's the verdict?"

I study the display screen and smile. "Gorgeous," I reply. I save the picture, putting it right next to Gwen's. "You could be a supermodel," I insist.

MJ blushes slightly, an unusual sight. "Oh, Peter. You're such a smooth talker. If only you were a little older." She winks before checking all the equipment around my bed. All the machines make this place look more like a laboratory than a hospital room. Once MJ is done checking everything, she asks, "Are your aunt and uncle coming to visit today?"

"Same time every day," I answer.

"Alright. See you around, tiger."

***

Every night, I have the same dream. I'm a superhero, and I'm flying high above the streets. The people look up, and they see me in my red and blue tights, and they shout, "There he goes!" And I look down, and I smile and wave. There's no cancer, no hospital. It's just me among the skyscrapers, and I'm free.

That night, I dream about Gwen and MJ. In the dream, the two ladies are fighting over me. I swoop in, in my superhero costume, and I calm them down. Ladies, please. Don't fight - least of all over me, I plead. And I wrap my left arm around Gwen, my right arm around MJ, and I take off into the skies with them - each girl wrapping her arms around my neck as we fly over the city.

And that's when I wake up.

wiegeabo

12-14-2010, 09:48 PM

Well, I'm ****ing depressed.

Thanks Eddie.

Rain Dog

12-14-2010, 09:56 PM

lol my friend and I had the same idea but we turned it into a comedy sketch. Two friends are bitten by a radioactive spider, one gets superpowers and the other gets cancer.

Eddie Brock

12-14-2010, 10:04 PM

I won't consider this a success until I drive at least one person to alcoholism. :awesome:

Carnage27

12-14-2010, 10:06 PM

Damn powerful there, Eddie.

I like it.

wiegeabo

12-14-2010, 10:30 PM

I won't consider this a success until I drive at least one person to alcoholism. :awesome:

I have three open bottles of tequilla and an open bottle of brandy next to my bed.

Just trying to decide where to start.

Eddie Brock

12-14-2010, 11:05 PM

SPECTACULAR
By: E. Brock

Part II

"Good morning, Peter." Dr. Curt Connors, my doctor. I feel bad, but every time he walks into a room, my eyes are immediately drawn to his stump. He lost his right arm serving overseas. "An arm for the army," he said with a laugh when I first met him. No matter how many times I see it, I can't help but glance that way, wondering what it's like to lose a limb. If Dr. Connors notices, he doesn't say anything. "How are you feeling today? Any nausea?"

"None more than I'd expect after months of hospital food," I smile. As Dr. Connors checks my chart, I continue fiddling with my camera. I still have the pictures of Gwen and Mary Jane saved. Man, what I wouldn't give to show ol' Flash Thompson the kind of ladies "Puny Parker" surrounds himself with now.

"And you have Otto's group therapy to attend today?"

I sigh. "Yes, unfortunately."

Dr. Connors smiles a little, making a few notes on my chart. "Look, I know Otto's not the most personable guy in the world, but he is a genius. Give him a chance." He finishes with my chart and hangs it at the foot of my bed. "Well, Peter, it looks like you don't need me here right now, so I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay. See you around, Doc." I glance up at the clock. I've still got three hours until group therapy. I put down my camera and pick up the TV remote.

***

Group therapy. With basically no other options, I signed myself up as a guinea pig for this little experimental treatment. We meet every week to discuss the results. It's not the worst thing in the world, I guess. The thing is that the doctor in charge of the study, Dr. Otto Octavius, gives me the heebie-jeebies. I can't explain it. Maybe it's those thick-rimmed glasses he wears which hide his pupils. Maybe it's his accented monotone. Maybe it's just his general coldness. Whatever it is, I get bad vibes from the guy - despite Dr. Connors' insistence to the contrary.

"Good afternoon, everyone," Dr. Octavius - whom I once called "Dr. Octopus," much to his chagrin - announces in his aforementioned monotone.

I look around the room at the "Sinister Six," as I've so proudly dubbed them. We're a colorful bunch to be sure. First, there's Flint Marko. He used to be a construction worker, I think? He always wears that same damn green striped shirt, week in and week out. Next to him is Quentin Beck. He's a nice enough guy, if a little "out there." When I met him, he tried to do this magic trick. It was really lame. Then, there's Adrian Toomes. I can't help but feel bad for the guy. He looks a lot older than he is because his body's really worn down. Max Dillon was an electrical engineer before he was diagnosed. He claims he was once struck by lightning.

The last member of the group is perhaps the most interesting to me. Harry Osborn. He's only a year older than me, so he and I are pretty close. His dad's some kind of hotshot businessman or something. I don't know exactly, but I know they're loaded. Harry's dad comes to all the meetings and sits in the back, constantly on his Blackberry. Today's no different. I feel bad for Harry. I get the feeling that he and his dad aren't that close.

"Hey, Pete," Harry whispers. "Did you hear about 'Daredevil?'"

I shake my head.

"The police caught him last night. Turns out he was some lawyer or something. Can you believe that? A lawyer hunting down all those criminals." Harry laughs to himself. "Everybody's a hero, right?"

***

That night, I have another vivid dream. I'm flying above the city when I'm suddenly tackled from above. I look up and see Adrian Toomes, dressed like a bird, sneering at me. Before I can say a word, he throws me into the waiting arms of Max Dillon. Dillon squeezes me, and I feel electrocuted. I break free from Dillon before stumbling into Flint Marko. I try to punch him, but my hand goes right through him. Marko smirks and picks me up, tossing me across the street. Quentin Beck appears before me, surrounded by an army of other Quentin Becks. I stand up to face them when they all disappear in a cloud of smoke.

What's going on? I demand.

Isn't it obvious, Peter? Mr. Osborn stands at the far end of the street, smiling darkly. His hand in on Harry's shoulder, and Harry won't look up at me. We're here for you.

Harry? Harry, look at me!

I'm sorry, Pete. Harry mutters.

Just then, the ground opens up between us. Dr. Octavius steps out of the hole - only now he's got six arms. Doctor Octopus? Very funny, Mr. Parker!

Toomes, Dillon, Marko, Beck, and Octavius surround me, drawing closer. Over Octavius' shoulder, I can see Mr. Osborn still smiling. Harry! Harry, do something! The men are getting nearer now. Everything starts to go dark. Harry!

Harry finally looks at me, and I wake up.

wiegeabo

12-14-2010, 11:13 PM

Looks like I'm starting with the tequilla

NiteMare Shape

12-14-2010, 11:20 PM

Looks like I'm starting with the tequilla

Pour me a shot while you're at it....

Eddie Brock

12-14-2010, 11:23 PM

Just wait 'til Part III where I describe Peter's death scene in excruciating detail! :awesome:

:oldrazz:
:ninja:

Andy C.

12-14-2010, 11:58 PM

The sad thing is, I was hearing the theme of RENT in my head while reading those posts; Spidey's musical flopped so bad it can't even be his own soundtrack.

But seriously, fecking awesome job EBJ.

wiegeabo

12-15-2010, 12:00 AM

Just wait 'til Part III where I describe Peter's death scene in excruciating detail! :awesome:

:oldrazz:
:ninja:

I was dreaming that I had gone emo...and it wouldn't stop!

Saved

12-23-2010, 01:09 AM

Family Ties

Gotham City, City Hall - Courthouse

Gotham Police Commissioner Jim Gordon sits on a bench outside the courtroom, his head held tightly in his hands. As he slumps over in his seat, he stares at the floor – gazing off into space as he wrestles with the painful thoughts clouding his every feeling deep inside his mind. The struggle inside him is primal – instinct conflicting with reason. Twenty –four years he’s been on the force; facing off with the deepest, most malevolent creatures the city could throw at him. For years he thought he had beaten it – thought he had risen above whatever the city could conjure to tear him down. But nothing prepared him for this; nothing ever could.

“Jim?” a man’s voice speaks sensitively. He looks up to see the District Attorney, Adrian Chase, standing over him. A frown comes over Adrian’s face as a sensation of guilt begins to rise within him. “Jim,” he asks again, tilting his head slightly.

“Yes,” Gordon speaks, running his fingers through his thick gray hair. Jim wipes his face in a rough manner, caressing his moustache as his hand makes its way down his face. In a calculated and slow manner, he rises from the bench, grunting audibly as his joints pop. “I’m getting too old for this,” he laments, adjusting the glasses on his nose.

“It’ll be over soon,” Adrian tells him, trying to inspire even the slightest bit of hope within his old friend.
“I know that,” Jim agrees as he begins walking toward the doors to the courtroom. He opens the door and extends his arm, motioning for Adrian to enter first. “But for who?” Jim asks as the DA passes by. “Him … or me?”

The two men make their way down the aisle, passing by the rows of seats packed in tight with spectators eager to watch the impending case. Many recognizable people fill the audience; but most noticeably is the figure sitting at the end of the back row - Bruce Wayne – billionaire, socialite, and heir to the famed Wayne fortune. At his side, his loyal butler Alfred Pennyworth sits, sitting erect in his seat – his sophisticated manners always about him. Next to Wayne at the pew’s end sits Barbara Gordon, nervously waiting in her wheel chair. Her eyes stay on her step father as he walks past her and through the gate ahead. A look of discomfort comes over her face, her eyes seeming to glaze over with a tear. Bruce extends his hand to hers, taking it within his grip as he gently strokes her arm.

At the front of the room, Jim and Adrian take their seats at their table. Adjacent across the aisle sits the defendant dressed in the standard orange jumpsuit. The chains binding his ankles and wrists together jingle as he shifts in his seat, looking over at Jim with an eerie smile. The corners of his lips seem to rise up to his eyes – his brown tightening with an unsettling tension. The man’s ivory eyes seem to pierce the air of the room, an odd contrast to the pale white skin of his face. He lets out a small laugh, chuckling to himself in surprisingly jovial manner for someone in his predicament. But, then again, he’s always laughing – always finding something humorous to laugh at – even during the most inappropriate of times. After all, he’s the reason that everyone has gathered here today – he’s the reason all of Gotham has come to watch the spectacle. He is the Joker.

“JAMESY!” He snickers, the pitch of his voice high. “I didn’t think you’d show! Good for you.” Jim remains silent, failing to even look at the man, lest he grant him some form of merit. “And look, gang’s all here, buddy. I’ll even bet the BAT’S in attendance right now, heehee. It’s a good old family reunion! I feel so wanted and loved, hoohehehehehe!”He giggles, the sound sending a tingle down the Commissioner’s smile.

“Just ignore him, Jim,” Adrian whispers, trying to console his friend. “He’s just trying to get you riled up. Just relax, okay? Take a deep breath and relax, can you do that?”

Before Gordon can speak, the doors to the back of the room open, and a new figure enters the fray. A single man walks confidently down the path, dressed finely in an expensive suit fitting his every angle and curve. A look of fierce determination is fixed on his face – a look of passion and confidence. “Oooooh!” The Joker muses, clapping loudly with a grin. “My lawyer’s finally arrived! Hahahaha.” The Joker’s tone suddenly shifts, his voice dropping down to a low octave – a bellow so striking it seems to rattle the very windows of the walls. “Now the fun can really begin.”

As the defense attorney walks through the gate, he turns to the Commissioner – locking eyes with the elderly man as he looks up from his seat. The two seem to stare in silence for an eternity – each failing to blink or utter a sound. After a period of minutes, Gordon finally speaks up, beginning with a grunt as he clears his throat. “Hello there, Jimmy,”Gordon says simply, his voice nearly trembling.

“Good afternoon,” the man begins, his face void of emotion as he speaks. “Dad.”
“You decided to go through with it then,” Jim starts, his tone reflecting the deep dismay inside him. “You decided to represent this … madman.”
“He’s just another defendant,” Jim junior replies, staring at his father with stark intensity. “Another man who deserves due process to prove his innocence.” The Commissioner frowns, his mustache ruffling over his lip as his face contorts.

“After all he’s done to this city – to our family – you can still say that with a clean conscience?” Jim junior laughs, rolling his eyes as his head leans backward.

“You never did get it, did you?” He says in an aggravated tone, walking over to his seat next to the Joker. “It’s about justice, dad – not about personal vendettas and prejudice.” The door behind the judge’s desk, the bench, creeks open, and a man cloaked in a black robe takes his seat. “Oh, and Barbara and Sarah? They’re not my family,” he states harshly. “They’re yours.”

The bailiff beside the desk shouts aloud in a booming voice, “All rise, the honorably judge Robert Kane presiding.” Everyone stands, complying with the traditional request.

“You may be seated,” the judge speaks, leaning forward in his chair. “The case of the Joker vs. Gotham City will now be heard. Mr. Joker, you stand guilty of multiple homicide, kidnapping, and extortion, how do you plea?”

Jim Jr. rises, straightening his tie as he inhales a quick breath. “My client pleas guilty by reason of insanity your honor.”
“And can you prove that your client is, indeed, mentally ill?”
“Yes, your honor. In fact, that was going to be part of my opening statement. May I?”
“Proceed.”

“Your honor, members of the jury, citizens of Gotham City, I stand before you as a man – someone just like you who believes in doing what is right. Our court system is designed to administer justice – punishing those who are guilty, protecting the innocent, and restoring those who are wronged. But, in order for a man to be guilty, he must have a guilty mind – a mind free from corruption or ailment that could otherwise disrupt his or her thought process, causing them to do something they would not ordinarily do were they able to have the lucid, uninhibited, mental capacity. I hope to prove to this court that my client is indeed mentally handicapped, and that he is not responsible for his actions, but is in desperate need of help to overcome his multiple disorders so that, one day, he may return to society a changed man – cured, and free from his inner demons.” Jim Jr. takes his seat, turning to his father and shooting him a cocky smirk.

The judge turns to Adrian, “Prosecutor, your opening statement.” Adrian nods and rises to his feet.
“Thank you your honor. Ladies and gentlemen, I do not intend to fill your minds with sweet nothings – little vignettes and anecdotes to please your minds and manipulate your thinking. I, instead, wish to show you the truth – prove, without a reasonable doubt, that the Joker is not mentally ill and is in fact fully cognizant of his actions, and therefore, responsible. And, in addition, I intend to ensure that he is exposed to the full extent of the law, and that justice, truly is, served.”

The Joker lowers his head, leaning over to his lawyer at his side. “Seems rather gung ho, don’t you think?”
“Don’t worry,” Jim Jr. tells him calmly, opening the manila folder before him as he prepares his defense. “They can’t prove you’re sane – we have multiple records proving your insanity. By the end of the day, you’ll be back in a padded cell in Arkham – safe from the Batman and the other unlawful denizens this city chooses to protect.”

“Fabulous!” He squeals in glee. “How are you going to do it? Tell the jury a sad story of how I was beaten as a child by a wretched, drunken father who never learned to love himself? Or, perhaps, the story of a man who’s family was torn apart by tragedy – leaving him to watch as his wife and children are ripped from the mortal coil grounding them to this plane?” He snickers, tapping his fingers together evilly as he licks his lips. “I’ve got a million stories, Jimmy … you just tell me which one to go with and I’ll put on a show like you’ve never seen.” Jim Jr. smiles wide as he stares at the Joker, struggling to stifle his own laughter.

“You keep this act up? There’s no way they can prove you're not crazy.” The Joker suddenly frowns, put off by his ‘ally’s’ words.
“You know I’m not crazy, Jimmy,” he says in a serious voice, nearly growling. “Not. Crazy.”
“Sure you aren’t,” he smirks.

“Mr. Chase,” the judge speaks, drawing everyone’s attention. “You may begin.”
“I would like to call my first, and surprise, witness to the stand,” he begins, turning to face the crowd behind him. “Former Doctor, now resident, of Arkham Asylum; Harleen Quinzel.”

Byrd Man

12-23-2010, 01:22 AM

What an ungrateful little prick. Johnny Vitti should have killed him back in Year One.

Eddie Brock

12-23-2010, 01:26 AM

What an ungrateful little prick. Johnny Vitti should have killed him back in Year One.
What if he did?

*runs off to write post*

The Question

12-28-2010, 09:47 PM

I know I've drifted out of the games and all, but would it be okay for me to post stuff here from time to time?

Byrd Man

12-28-2010, 09:48 PM

No.

wiegeabo

12-28-2010, 10:05 PM

No.

You get one little award, and you think you own the place.

Byrd Man

12-28-2010, 10:11 PM

I do own it. MB mortgaged the deed to the RPGs for me for a tiny loan. ****er has lapsed so I'm foreclosing. :ninja:

Andy C.

12-28-2010, 11:02 PM

I know I've drifted out of the games and all, but would it be okay for me to post stuff here from time to time?

Only if you promise to give us more of those Wonder Years Spidey posts.

Saved

12-28-2010, 11:16 PM

Only if you promise to give us more of those Wonder Years Spidey posts.
This. ^

Eddie Brock

01-13-2011, 01:54 AM

While making my usual rounds in the Awesome Pictures thread, I discovered a really, really fun concept, IMO. So without further ado, I give you:

GOTHAM HIGH!
Episode 1: Pilot

Thomas and Martha Wayne. My parents. They were killed when I was only a boy. And with that one act, the course of my life was forever changed. I struggled with my parents' death, searched for new meaning in my life. I dedicated myself to honoring my parents. I honed my body and mind, pushing myself to the very extremes, the very limits of human ability. As the sun rose and set every day, my only thought was of my parents and how to do right by them. And yet years and years of extensive, rigorous training have not prepared me for this day.

My first day of high school.

"Oh, boy," I say to myself as I stare up at the imposing monolith that is Gotham High. Many men far greater than I have fallen to this establishment. And though I may have thought myself ready, as I stand before these doors, I'm filled with an unexplainable sense of dread. What if I fail? What if I don't bring my parents honor and justice? What if I have a pimple?

"Hey, Brucie! Think fast!"

I turn, and my face is met with a water balloon. As the water splashes on my face, I hear that same cackling that haunts my dreams. Joey Kerr, class clown and town lowlife. No one seems to know anything about him - his home, his family, the truth about his shockingly pale complexion. All we know is that he lived to torment the middle schoolers, and it seems he's up to his old tricks again in high school.

As Joey runs away laughing, I dry my face with the sleeve of my shirt. So help me, I'll send that clown to detention if it's the last thing I do this year. Maybe Principal Loeb will be more competent than Principal Hill from Gotham Junior High. Then again, I've learned not to put my faith in the Gotham Municipal System.

"I see Joey got you," announces Babs Gordon, my oldest and closest friend. She walks up to me, smiling shyly behind her glasses and holding her books tightly. She reaches out and plucks a piece of balloon off my shoulder. We both share a laugh before she asks, "So...you ready to go in there?" She nods to the front door.

I sigh. "Ready as I'll ever be." As we ascend the steps towards the door, I look around at all the other fresh arrivals. We've gone to school together since kindergarten, so I've come to know them all well.

Eddie Nygma, a shy nerd who speaks in code and frequently finds himself a target of bullies.

Ozzy Cobblepot, a silver-tongued rich kid who escapes harassment because of his powerful father's connections.

Jonathan Crane, a self-professed "tortured soul" who spends all of his time alone, working on chemistry.

Harley Quinzell, Joey Kerr's partner-in-crime and on-again/off-again girlfriend.

Bane, star linebacker for the Gotham High football team and terror of the hallways.

Waylon Jones, offensive lineman for the football team and occasionally bullying partner for Bane.

Pamela Isley, head cheerleader and narcissistic "queen" of Gotham High.

As Babs and I climb up the steps, someone approaches me from behind and puts their hand on my shoulder. I look down to see freshly-manicured nails and fingerings adorning multiple rings. "Hey there, Bruce," purrs Selina Kyle, resident tomgirl and my longtime crush. "See you inside." And just like that, she walks away, catching the eye of every guy she crosses.

When we finally reach the doors, my good friend Harvey Dent is handing out fliers. Harvey can be a little moody, but I forgive him for it because I know he's a good guy. He sees me and smiles, thrusting a flier into my arms. "Hey, Bruce! Vote for Harvey!" He forces a flier on Babs, too.

I look down at the flier. It's a campaign ad for Harvey. "Isn't it a little early for campaigning, Harv? Elections aren't until November."

"I know, but you can never start too soon!" Harvey looks at me and frowns. "Especially since my competition is Pamela Isley." He glares over my shoulder at Pamela, who's laughing it up with her fellow cheerleaders. "She's been on Student Council for the past two years, and now she's running for Student Body President. I don't stand a chance."

I pat my friend on the arm, giving him a confident smile. "Don't say that, Harv. You'll do great."

"I'm going to go say 'hi' to my Dad in the Guidance Office," Babs announces. Her father is a guidance counselor here at Gotham High. I know he's excited to have his daughter coming to school with him. Babs tucks Harvey's flier away between her books and rushes off.

"So what do you think, Bruce? High school's not so bad, right?"

I look around the hallways. They certainly seem normal enough. Of course, I know looks can be deceiving. And, after all, it's only been about a minute so far. "We'll see, Harvey. We'll see."

Carnage27

04-27-2011, 12:56 PM

Three men walk along the darkened New York Streets, clinging tightly to their coats. They're not cold, but the automatic weapons they carry beneath them need to stay hidden. The stories that have been going around the past few weeks have frightened them, and they have no desire to run into them tonight. No desire at all. But they can't not go on this heist. Their boss has felt the squeeze, and their organization is getting desperate.

As they walk to their destination, they pass an electronics store with the late night news playing on the TVs in the display. On the screen, a pretty reporter comments on the recent wave of unexplained happenings, "You've all heard the stories circulating the past few weeks. That an unnamed, unidentified person or creature has been beating the city's thugs to a pulp at crime scenes and leaving them for the police force to pick up. I'm here tonight to bring you a special investigative report to start to shed light on these interesting rumors."

The men go next door to a jewelry store were the proprietors live up stairs. Before breaking down the alley door into the establishment, one of them finds a circuit breaker and cuts the automatic alarm.

Once the job is done, the large one of the group slams his heavy shoulder into the door, and the old wooden frame gives in. Instantly, the two other smaller men rush upstairs, and bring the family that owns the store back downstairs at gun point.

With the children crying, the men force the father to unlock the store's cases so they can take their haul. The entire time, they can still hear the muffled news report coming through the wall next door, "I first started by interviewing one of the men that claims to be beaten by this secret hero."

"I don't know, man," the interviewee's voice is heard. "One minute I'm taking in my haul, the next minute all the lights go out. And then I catch a little bit of movement out the corner of my eye. This thing, it ain't a man, this thing was like part of the darkness. It moved like it was a shadow."

Almost like clockwork, the jewelry store is plunged into darkness. The big thug, obviously the leader, snaps at the man who shut off the alarm, "You idiot! You screwed up the lights."

The other one replies, "No man...it's the thing! It's here!"

A thud can be heard upstairs and the final robber replies in a hushed voice, "You hear that?"

"Yea," the big guy says before turning to the electrical expert, "go upstairs and check it out."

The electrician accepts his role, and shaking, walks up stairs. He's instantly drawn to a room in the front of the house whose window lies open. A window he remembers being closed the last time he was up here.

Entering the room, he scans the room, but sees nothing. But he didn't look hard enough. As he turns to leave, something sharp clips his hand holding his gun, causing him to drop it. It makes an insignificant, soft thump on the carpeted floor. Like a flash, a palm strikes him in the throat, muffling any scream he may have made, before two hands slam against the side of his head, knocking him out cold.

All the while, the sound of the news report floats up through the open window, "I even spoke with the chief of police, who has taken a personal interest in this case. He did not want to be interviewed on camera, but he did share some interesting tales, such as perpetrators claiming that this one creature has taken out up to six of them at a time in rapid succession. And the chief also reports that different prisoners have claimed to have been stopped by this hero at different places across the city at the same time at up to four different places at once."

Next, the big man sends up his other accomplice to check on the electrician. As he reaches the top of the stairs, he sees his friend laid out cold in the doorway to the room, and runs up to check on him. But he makes a big mistake not calling out for help.

Something drops from the ceiling behind him, kicking his gun out of his hand from behind and placing him in a choke hold. The man's face goes purple, and he passes out in his attackers arms, and is then placed on top of the other burglar.

Downstairs, the big man becomes impatient, "Damn it. No one can do anything right but me."

He leaves the family downstairs and heads up to find his partners. But all he finds is a pile of unconscious bodies in the hallway, and a hulking figure standing over them. He attempts to raise his gun, but it's knocked out of his hand by a thrown projectile. Not being one to run from a fight, the big man puts brass knuckles over his hand and rushes the figure, driving the fist into its sternum.

But the blow has the opposite effect than expected. It gives off a loud crack as the metal meets an armor like substance mixed with the large man's hand breaking. He shouts in pain, "What the hell are you!?"

Before delivering a headbutt, the shadow replies, "Your worst nightmare."

"Whatever this hero is, whether some experiment gone wrong or some brave soul willing to risk his life for the good of the city, I know I feel safer having him around. And who ever he, or they are, I'd just like to say thank you. Reporting for Channel Five News, this has been April O'Neil, signing off."

By the time the police arrive, they find the robbers tied to each other, unconscious. But there is no sign of the mysterious attacker. Because he is a ninja. He strikes hard, and fades back into the night.

**************

OOC: This post was brought to you by the "I miss From the Pages of..." Committee

Batman

04-30-2011, 02:54 AM

"It's over there."

Lois Lane bit her lip as she stepped under the crime scene tape, stretching it upwards just high enough for her accompanying cameraman to fit through. But even as he fumbled and tried to collect his lighting equipment before it spilled out of the bag, Lois' mind was focused directly infront of her at the scene of the incident, ready to get in and get out at a moment's notice. Perry had made it clear from the moment he had given her the assignment - make it quick, make it simple, and make it newsworthy. Luckily for him, she thought to herself, she was the best reporter in town. Nobody in Metropolis got an exclusive like Planet Media's highest rated correspondent.

"Hurry it up, will you?", she called out behind her. "A couple more seconds and the CSI units should have their grubby little fingers all over this. And I am not bailing you out of jail again just because you can't outrace a pair of six inch heels back to the car."

"Harsh,", replied Jimmy Olsen, the 28-year-old videographer who had been frequently made to be Lois' tagalong. "Just give me a sec, Lois. It'll still be there by the time we've set up."

"No time for that. We're gonna have to do this guirella."

"You say that about every story. Would it kill you to be a little patient once in awhile?"

A wide smirk on her lips as she stepped onto the sidewalk of the scene, Lois turned back and watched Olsen hoist his gear along to the spot. "Kid, I didn't get where I am today by being patient. Now quit whining and start recording."

Opening up her compact, she quickly scanned her face for any signs of blemishes and gently brushed her hair backwards with her fingertips. She hadn't been particularly known for being the most glamorous newscaster in the business, but if it spared her another one of Perry White's famous lectures, it was worth the effort.

"Quick, how's my hair look?"

"Uh, good? I guess."

Lois sneered. "You guess."

"What? I mean, it looks fine. Why are you asking me?"

Rolling her eyes, Lois cleared her throat and stood up straight.

"Forget it. Let's just get this on wax before we're accused of contaminating another oh-so-precious crime scene."

Setting his camera to the appropriate settings, Olsen hoisted it over his shoulder and got into position. Giving Lois the cue of a five-fingered countdown, he pointed at her as soon as the light hit her face, momentarily causing her to flinch. "We're rolling."

Gathering herself, the ace reporter smiled back at the camera with a look so practiced that even she might have mistaken herself to be a pleasant sight to behold.

"Good evening Metropolis, this is Lois Lane coming to you live from Suicide Slums. After several weeks of reported sightings of a mysterious figure that has been said to put a stop to over a dozen attempted robberies in the city's market district, police have now discovered what seems to be an indication of truth to the claims of vigilante justice being brought to our fair streets."

Indicating the wall behind her, she used her hand to underline the unusual mark burned into it's bricks. "Seen behind me is just one of nearly a dozen recently discovered insignias left across the district in the last week. What do they mean? Who is responsible for their appearance, and what motives lie behind this mysterious person, whom many of the Slum's natives now refer to as savior? Tonight, The Daily Planet comes closer to the truth, as I interview three exclusive eyewitness sources. Stay tuned for more after these messages."

Nodding, Olsen carefully switched the dial that cut the signal, just in time for the Planet's station editors to splice in the commercials off of the feed. Lois took a deep breath, lowering her microphone and pulling out her smartphone. It was 7:45, at least an hour after she was supposed to be clocking out and heading home. Women her age were normally out on dates, or doing something exciting with their time. Looking back at the wall, she realized that all she had to do with her time was look at a bunch of stylized graffiti.

"Should be ready to roll in the next minute. You wanna go inside for the next shot?"

Lost in thought, she looked back at Olsen and shrugged.

"Oh, sure. Need any help with the equipment?"

"Nah, I got it. Wouldn't want you to chip a nail."

Playfully hitting him on the shoulder as he chuckled, she waited for him to gather his things.

"Hysterical. I can see why you're a behind-the-scenes kinda guy."

Olsen shook his head. "Hey, that's only because the chief won't let me infront of the camera. I think he's just jealous of my rugged good looks."

"Modesty would do you well, Jimmy. You've been hanging out with Lombard for too long."

Stopping in mid walk, Olsen stared back at the wall for a minute. The insignia had obviously captured his attention. Looking at it again herself, Lois seemed to have lost interest. "What? See something I don't?"

"No. It's just... how do you think he did this? It's still burning, so he must've done it pretty quick to be able to take off before the cops arrived."

"How should I know? Probably got some lighter fluid and thought to paint himself a portrait. All these whackjobs have their own agenda, and thankfully it's not our job to know what it is."

"Maybe."

Following Olsen inside, she continued.

"Besides, who cares? More than likely, the cops will find whoever did it in the next few hours and toss him right on his ass in a cell at Stryker's Island. Believe me, by the time tomorrow hits..."

http://img156.imageshack.us/img156/2884/supes6.png

"This'll be long since forgotten."

Byrd Man

04-30-2011, 06:34 AM

You have time for this but not UDC, huh? :cmad:

Carnage27

05-04-2011, 12:57 AM

I'll get yelled at for not posting in an actual game...but whatever, this has been eating at my brain for a little.

This post is also brought to you by the I Miss the From the Pages Of... RPG Committee.

**********

The bell rings and the students file out of the classroom quickly, handing in their finals as they go, obviously ready to leave and get their summer started. And for me? Well, I guess I'm ready for summer as well. It's time to get back in the field, I've been teaching for far too long at this point. I need to feel the hard, uncivilized ground beneath my feet, get grit and grime underneath my fingernails, and breath deep the stale air of some ancient tomb.

As I organize the tests on my desk, a voice is heard from my doorway, carrying with it a British accent, "Doctor Jones, I was wondering if I may have a word with you. My...associate needs your assistance."

I look up to find a beautiful young blond standing in the doorframe. Her beauty almost disarms me for a moment, but I quickly regain myself, "If your associate wanted to talk to me why didn't he come?"

"I dunno," she shrugs. "Said somethin' about being nervous. Neva seen him nervous before. But he's in the auditorium."

"Well, he didn't set up a meeting, and honestly, I don't have time for this," I respond with a sigh.

"It's important. He insisted it was," she says, refusing to move from the doorway as I attempt to leave. "And time won't be a problem. Trust me on that."

Shaking my head I motion, "Well, lead the way."

After a few moments, the two of us are in the school auditorium, where I find a man sitting at a table wearing a blue pin-striped suite. As I approach, he hops up and shoves his hand into mine, shaking it rapidly, speaking in a similar accent to the girl, "Dr. Jones. It is an honor to finally meet you. Such a legend. Can't believe I've never crossed your path before. I do hope I'm not-"

"Okay, okay," I smile nervously, retrieving my hand from his. "What do you need me for?"

"Ah well, yes," he responds, sitting down. "Down to business then. Just like I would expect from a man of your stature. Ahhh...Dr. Jones. I'm here to ask you about the Ark of the Covenant."

I instantly spring from my feet. The situation is all too similar. A strange pair of visitors ask me to talk to them about the Ark. his time their British, and I haven't heard a peep about my greatest find since the boys from D.C. took it from my grasp and locked it away somewhere.

I sneer. "Are you from Scotland Yard? Who are you and how do you know? Who took it? Where is the Ark?"

"Well, to you first question: No, I'm not with Scotland Yard. Although there was a time in the 1800s, but that doesn't count-"

"1800s..? What are you? Some kinda nut?" I respond, realizing this man has to be mad.

"No, Doctor Jones...I'm The Doctor, and this is Rose Tyler. We're from the future..."

http://i114.photobucket.com/albums/n245/JessicaL_03/moon1.jpg

"...and the future needs Indiana Jones."

Byrd Man

05-04-2011, 04:29 AM

You want FTPO back so bad, throw up an app. Let's see if it can get more interest than you, weig, and I.

Carnage27

05-04-2011, 01:09 PM

You want FTPO back so bad, throw up an app. Let's see if it can get more interest than you, weig, and I.

I'm done school on Monday. I've been working on a story treatment for a new one for like a month. Once that's done I'll put up an app.

I think I'll PM you and weig this weekend about my ideas.

Byrd Man

05-04-2011, 03:50 PM

Looking forward to seeing what you got.

Andy C.

11-21-2011, 04:18 AM

Posting as Spider-Man in One Earth has got me thinking about all the unfinished stories I had in mind for All-Star Marvel again. While the game unfortunately lost its momentum between seasons and went out with a whimper, I had plans for Spidey that could have gone four, maybe five seasons. So here's another peek into the far-flung future that never will be:

(complete with a little mood music):
http://youtu.be/9c2ZJPKz5u8

I hate this place, I think to myself as I make my way towards my destination. The sky is a dull gray, a blanket of clouds that lets out a small, miserable drizzle, but doesn't quite open up enough to really rain. It's like when you're nauseous all day, but are never able to just be sick and get it over with.

And I do feel sick, as I walk along the paved walkway up a rolling hill, past rows of rain-slick headstones.

Three days ago, Mary Jane went missing. Yesterday, I found a note on the door of my apartment, showing me only a time and a set of coordinates. Those coordinates led me here.

I hate this place; it's full of painful things, things that I don't want to think about, but can't ever forget.

About a hundred yards down the hill, my biological parents are buried, dead before I was even a month old.

Beside them, my Uncle Ben and Aunt May, killed by anonymous thugs while I was out stirring up trouble, victims of my own irresponsibility.

On the far side of the grounds, Doctor Curt Connors and his wife Martha are interred in a vault, the end result of a murder/suicide for which I took the blame; two people I failed to save.

Ten yards to my right, I see where Gwen was laid to rest, her heart stopped by a Razor-Bat that was meant for me....the girl who I loved my entire life, the girl who died in my name.

And at the top of the hill, an elaborate crypt, the final resting place of the monster who took her and so many others.

I hate this place.

Which, of course, is why he chose it.

A low rumble of weak thunder rolls through the sky. I see him, dressed in black, covered in a long cloak and hood.

"I should have known," I say, stopping ten paces away from him. "The whole time.....I should have known it was you."

The cloaked figure doesn't move or speak to acknowledge my presence. Underneath that hood, though, I can feel his eyes burning at me.

"The Black Suit......Venom......the Hobgoblin.......Jackal and his clones......" I say, listing them off like an old veteran showing off his war wounds--which they might as well be, given how deeply each one scarred my soul. "I thought they were all just separate events, the universe screwing with my life over and over again. I thought all the terrible things that happened, just *happened.* But I should have known."

The figure doesn't move, but I can see his stance growing tense. He knows that I know; he just wants me to say it out loud first.

"I didn't want to admit that there was something, someone, who could keep getting to me like that over and over.......but it was the only answer. It was you all along. It had to be. Ever since that night on the George Washington Bridge, you've been attacking me through proxies. That's why the symbiote found me. That's how Kingsley got a hold of the Goblin formula. That's how Warren was able to clone me, to make....the twins........because behind the scenes, you were handing them everything they needed!"

I clench my fist, gripping tight the mask folded up in my palm; I had hoped I wouldn't need it, but there's no way this is going to end well.

"The only thing I haven't figured out, then, is......why?"

The cloaked figure pulls his hands up into his hood to pull it back.

"Isn't it obvious, Pete?" he says, revealing his face. "You killed my father."

"Harry," I say, my gut twisting as I see him. "Norman Osborn was a lunatic and a murderer."

"Oh, Pete," Harry says with a mocking laugh. "He was so much worse than that. The things he did to my mother......the things he did to me during those years I was 'studying abroad in England.' I was his personal guinea pig for three years, then he wiped my mind and built a new one on top of it so I wouldn't remember. He took away my childhood, my identity......oh, and what did he take from you?"

"You know exactly who he took from me," I say, the anger rising in my voice.

"And so you killed him," Harry says. "You killed him.....before I got the chance to do it myself. Just like he probably wanted; he always did like you better than me."

"That's why you did all this?! Why you've been hounding me, putting my life and the lives of the people I love in the hands of psychopaths, why all those people died? Because you wanted to kill him first?!"

"Because you stole my legacy, Pete!" Harry spits. "Look at us: the heirs to the kingdom of a man we both hated. I should have been the one to overthrow him and take the throne. I took control of Oscorp, and I inherited the family fortune, but the legacy he really gave me.....the hurt, the hate, the madness......you took that from me. So I started taking from you."

I look at my best friend in disbelief.

"You're insane," I say.

Harry grins.

"What can I say?" he says. "As much as I hated the man, the old cliche still stands......like father....."

He reaches into a pocket within his cloak.

".....like son."

Out from his cloak he pulls a bright green mask, and my blood runs cold.

"No," I say. "Harry......don't do this."

"I've taken everything I can from you, Pete," Harry says, staring wide-eyed at the mask in his hands. "Now it's time I take from him."

"Harry, tell me where Mary Jane is and forget about this," I say, doing everything I can to not explode with anger. "If you put that mask on.....I swear to God I will put you down."

"You're going to have to, if you want MJ," Harry looks up, his face contorting into a horrifying grin. "I've got her hanging from the radio antenna on top of the Oscorp Tower; first one from here to there gets the girl! It'll be just like old times!"

"God dammit, Harry, STOP IT!"

"I can't be the better man than my father," he says, pulling the mask over his face, ".....but to take his legacy from him.....I'll be a better Goblin...."

I rip the plainclothes off from over my costume and pull the mask over my face, as I hear the all-too-familiar whine of the Glider's engines swooping down towards Harry.

From there, everything is a blur of motion, of webs and fire.....and pain.

Spider-Man and the Green Goblin.

http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b73/nowhereman716/Comics/revenge_green_goblin_disegno.jpg

Just like old times.

Carnage27

11-21-2011, 09:21 AM

Seriously Andy, your Spider-man is ridiculous.:up:

This has me wanting to post some stuff I was planning on doing in the Independents game.

Andy C.

12-10-2011, 12:14 AM

CREATE-A-CHRISTMAS CAROL
By Andy C.

Chapter I:

Andy C. sighed, weary after a long day's work. Feet aching, nerves shot, and still vaguely smelling of grill grease from making philly cheesesteaks for ungrateful rednecks all day, he slumped into his chair--wincing when he heard the chair's creaking in strain from his not inconsiderable heft-- and fired up his computer, logging into the SuperHeroHype forums.

"And what manner of idiocy have these dolts prepared for me today?" he groused as he scrolled through the threads. "Once again, a big crossover arc involving the Justice League has ground to a halt and ended with a whimper, I see. Oh, and I see Watchman is doing another far-flung psychadelic arc that requires doing LSD with Hunter S. Thompson to follow. And oh, look, another Batman villain in Ultimate DC 're-imagined' as a corrupt cop. Ho-hum, I suppose if anyone's going to do anything right around here, I'll have to do it myself."

Andy clicked on the respond button in order to begin a new post, but as soon as his fingers touched the keyboard.....

"Well, I suppose I don't have to do it right away...." he found himself thinking, opening a second tab to check on his Facebook.

Andy filed through the long list of family members and distant acquaintances from work or college and their typical drivel: insipid comments about their football team of choice, some preachy political rant about whatever minor thing they heard about in the news that day, pictures of their baby, and the like. And, on an exceedingly rare occasion, the odd comment about the fact that tonight was in fact Christmas Eve.

"Hmph," he mused, "I'll wager the rest of the Basement dwellers are also settling in for their long winter's nap as well. Oh well, I suppose there's no point in me posting now only for it to go unnoticed until after the holiday festivities."

Just as he was about to close the window, an instant message popped up.

Byrd says:
POOOOOOOOOOOOST!

Andy closed the IM box, then snorted.

"Post?" he said. "Bah! Humbug."

With that, the cranky overweight curmudgeon minimized his web browser and pulled up a game of Minesweeper. Just to kill a few minutes, you see.

Several hours later, Andy C. was slumped over his keyboard, his eyelids heavy. It was time to go to sleep--far past that time, as a matter of fact. The Basement dweller thought of turning in, but instead began watching random videos found on The Awesomer.

Much to his surprise, however, the video of two Asian kids staging a ridiculously-over-choreographed lightsaber duel set to a dubstep remix of Pachelbel's "Canon in D" began to change, the monitor of his computer taking on a whole different form, transforming into a familiar face....

"Aaaaaandy......." the face groaned. "Aaaaaaaandy Ceeeeeee......."

Andy stared in disbelief.

"It can't be!" he said. "My old RPG partner, Master Bruce! Dead these seven years!"

"Wait, what? Seven years?" the spectral form of MB blinked. "I haven't been dead seven years."

"Really? You haven't posted in, like, ages. I thought you died or something."

"Well I didn't."

"Then how are you a ghost?"

"Shut up," MB cut him off. "Anyway, as I was saying......Aaaaaandyyyy......"

"Yeah, I'm listening, you don't have to keep saying my name."

"I'm trying to build atmosphere, dammit!" the ghost snapped. "Look, I'm here to serve as a warning, to get you to understand the importance of posting."

"Posting? Bah! Humbug."

"Oh, you say that now," said MB, "But if you do not begin to post, then you are doomed to share the same fate as I."

Out from the computer monitor, the ghost of not-dead Master Bruce dangled a long, heavy chain from his arm.

"Every link on this chain represents a time I've been made the butt of a joke for not posting," he explain. "And I must carry that stigma with me everywhere I go, for all time."

"Well that's.....pretty annoying, I imagine," Andy C. said.

"You have no idea," sighed MB. "Anyway, you will be visited tonight by three characters. They will show you the true meaning of the Hype RPGs, and the value of posting."

"Isn't this all a little heavy-handed and contrived?"

"Farewell, Andy C.," the ghostly face of MB said as he faded back into the monitor. "The first spirit shall appear when the clock strikes one!.......or maybe twelve.....hang on, what time zone are you in?.....Screw it, you'll know him when you see him!"

As the spectre of Master Bruce dissipated, Andy C. stared at his computer in astonishment.

"I have got to start going to bed earlier," he said to himself, dismissing the encounter as some bizarre waking dream brought on by sleep deprivation. "Anyway, time to look at some porn before going to bed."

An hour later, Andy C. tucked himself in underneath his sheets, laid his head down on the pillow, and closed his eyes, finally getting some long-awaited shut-eye.

When all of a sudden, there rose such a clatter....

Andy sprung out of bed to see what was the matter....

Away to the window he flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash....

He looked, saw a figure, then looked once again,
Just to make sure he hadn't gone outright insane.

He could swear that outside, twixt the blinking Christmas lights
Was a scrawny teenager in spider-themed tights.

He rapped on the glass, and spoke, to Andy's surprise,
"Dude, I think you're referencing the wrong Christmas franchise."

Andy was so astonished by what he was seeing that he dropped ongoing rhyme scheme entirely.

"Oh, no frakking way," he said.

"You mind letting me in?" the masked superhero said. "When regarding the temperature out here, the phrase 'witch's teat' comes to mind."

Andy opened the window, and in stepped.....

".....All-Star Spider-Man?!"

http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b73/nowhereman716/1332199-1447740_mangaverse_super.jpg

"I've been known by that name from time to time," he said. "More accurately to the theme of this little adventure, though, I'm the Ghost of RPGs Past. And you're comin' with me."

TO BE CONTINUED

wiegeabo

12-11-2011, 09:14 PM

that almost makes me want to make a post.

someday.

Andy C.

12-14-2011, 01:48 AM

CHAPTER II

"Slow down!" said Andy C. as the cold winter air whipped at his face, swinging through the night slung over the shoulder of--much to his disbelief--his own interpretation of Spider-Man from the All-Star Marvel RPG, now calling himself the Ghost of RPGs Past. "I'm going to be sick!"

"Sorry, no can do," replied Spidey, throwing out another line of webbing into the dark night sky. "Only really have two speeds: swinging and not swinging. If you're gonna puke, I'd really appreciate it if you turned your head away; I don't think I need to explain the dangers of horking straight forward while traveling in a parabolic arc at high speed."

As they crested the next arc and Spidey began to swing down yet again, Andy felt his stomach lurch into his throat. He turned his head to one side, and ejected the remnants of the evening's microwaved lasagna out into the night.

"Attaboy, just get it all out," Spider-Man said. "Not much longer, pal; we're almost there."

Andy C. groaned sickly as they swung, rising and falling, speeding up and slowing down, his stomach doing an entirely different set of acrobatics from the rest of his body. Finally, though, they stopped.

"Well, we're here," he said, showing him a ground-level window to a familiar-looking house in Missouri.

"Wait...." said Andy. "My mom's house?"

"And not just any old your mom's house," Spidey pointed out. "Your mom's house in the spring of 2006. Let's take a look at what's going on in the basement, shall we?"

Peering in through the lower window, they saw a pudgy figure sitting down at a computer.

"Good heavens, that's....that's me!" Andy exclaimed. "Back when I still had a jaw line!"

"Shame about the hair, though," said the Ghost of RPGs Past. "I guess nobody told you at the time that there's a big difference between 'I'm a badass rock star' long hair and 'I play too much World of Warcraft' long hair."

"Hey, shut up," Andy grumbled. "Wait a minute....I remember this....I was searching for leaked news about Superman Returns and I came across SuperHeroHype. This was the day I started poking around in the forums! This....this was the day I signed up for...."

"General Zod in the original One Universe RPG," said Spider-Man. "Your first character in the Hype RPGs, and your first attempt at doing a big grand story arc."

"Ugh, don't remind me," the pudgy gamer groaned. "I totally stepped all over Question and LibrarianThorne's big meeting between Doctor Doom and Lex Luthor, hijacked other people's stuff by attacking Chicago and then invading Washington DC, and then did everything I could to force Byrd and Wieg out of the big final fight between Zod and Superman. I was totally unprofessional, just absolute amateur hour."

"Maybe," said Spidey, "but look at your face. Look at the excitement in your eyes. You were having fun. You didn't post just to get Byrd Man off your back; you posted because you just plain wanted to."

All-Star Spider-Man stood up, firing off a web line into the distance.

"Well, gotta keep moving," he said. "We've still got some more stops to make."

"Can we please not do the web-swinging?" Andy pleaded. "It's so bad for my stomach."

"Are you kidding me? This is the only way to travel," Spider-Man responded. "I mean that literally, by the way; I can't fly and I don't have a driver's license, so this is seriously the only way we can get around."

After another stomach-juggling journey, they came to a stop. Andy looked around, and found himself on a sidewalk in deep south Alabama, the sweltering summer heat and torturous humidity absolutely unbearable.

"Oh, God," he said, sweating bullets nearly the instant they touched down. "Where and when are we now?"

Andy and Spidey watched as another past incarnation of Andy C. strolled along the sidewalk, a pair of headphones blaring bad heavy metal into his ears as he walked uphill towards a tall building at the end of the street.

"Summer 2007," Spider-Man said. "You stayed on campus to take an extra semester of college in order to graduate on time, but your dorm didn't have internet access. So there you go, on your way to the campus library, the only place with a computer lab open, so you could continue writing--"

"Ultimate Brainiac," Andy said breathlessly. "This was when we got the Ultimate DC Trinity together, and at the same time began my love of playing Lex Luthor. This arc was insane! And I didn't even get to work on it on my own time; I had to stick within the confines of the library. I went out of the way, put myself through great inconvenience, just so I could post every day."

"Because you were hooked," Spidey said. "Because you loved the games and they loved you back. Here's another bit from later that year."

Spider-Man grabbed Andy by the arm and yanked him along, though thankfully only for a single swing, and they found themselves seated at a small desk in the student lounge of Andy's last college dorm room, the early morning sun poking through the windows as another past Andy feverishly drew a map on the computer's MSPaint.

"Oh my God, that's....the Silver Age RPG!"

"The one that you poured your heart and soul into creating, but never got off its feet," Spidey said somberly, like mourning a fallen comrade. "Still, even though your ridiculously complicated rule-set and your die-hard adherence to a PG-rated retro atmosphere went over with the other players like a wet fart in church, you still learned a lot from the experience. You learned that it's not the feedback and praise that matters, but the joy of creation itself."

"I still think that game would have worked," Andy muttered.

"Yeah, and you also still think that it's okay to wear a hoodie with shorts."

"Shut up."

"You shut up."

After a few moments of awkward silence, Spider-Man stood again.

"Anyway, it's time to go to my favorite stop," he said, dragging Andy along with him for another gut-wrenching ride.

They came to a stop outside a two-story house, the weather appropriately cold again. Once again, they saw Andy sitting in front of a computer, fingers flying furiously over the keyboard.

"Oh wow," Andy said, not even needing Spider-Man's prompting. "January of 2010, right? This was the day I applied for the All-Star Marvel RPG. This was the day I started playing....you...."

"Times like these I'm glad my mask covers my entire face," said the teenage hero, an obvious lump in his throat. "I'm actually getting a little ferklempt here."

"The character I could never really let go," Andy said wistfully. "The one I'd stay up at night obsessing over, that I'd sneak into the bathroom at work to write posts on my phone for, the one whose career I plotted out in excruciating detail, and never could accept that the game ended. Sure, I wasn't the best GM, and the game suffered from a severely limited player-base, but damn, I loved playing you."

"Now you're getting it," Spidey said, patting Andy on the back. "Nobody's forcing you to stay in the games--you can come and go any time you want. But you make the Basement your home away from home because you want to be there. At the end of the day, a hobby like this is nothing, if not a labor of love."

"Hmm," Andy mused to himself.

"And I'm gonna end it right there, because two dudes talking about love while peeping in on a third dude is considerably gayer in practice than I thought it was gonna be," said Spider-Man. "Y'know, not that there's anything wrong with that, but--"

"*ahem* right, right," said Andy, clearing his throat, trying to think of something to say to break the uncomfortable silence. "Soooo......now what?"

"Well, um, now I'm gonna drop you off back at your place, and the next guy should be coming along shortly."

A short but equally nauseating series of web-swinging later, All-Star Spider-Man swung back into the window of Andy's apartment, leaving the Basement dweller back in his bedroom. They exchanged one of those weird home-boy handshakes that then turned into a bro-hug (the one that's a combination chest-bump and pat on the back), and just like that, the fictional character was gone, leaving Andy alone and confused again.

"Well, I'm tired," Andy said to himself. "Maybe I can get a quick nap in before the next--"

His internal monologue was cut off by a noise from the kitchen. Stepping out of his room, Andy turned on the lights and saw a frighteningly skinny man in a dingy purple suit digging around in his pantry.

"You'd think any decent self-respecting loser would have a bag of Funyuns handy at all times," the man said to himself. "I'm starving!"

"Oh, no," said Andy, his voice full of dread. "Not you."

"Yes, me!" said the thin pale man, turning towards him.

http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b73/nowhereman716/Comics/Joker_arkham_asylum.jpg

"One-Earth Joker, a.k.a. The Ghost of RPGs Present! Let's get this party really going, shall we?"

TO BE CONTINUED

Batman

12-14-2011, 01:58 AM

Nice. I'm quite enjoying this, it's a very clever spin on the story that I swear nobody can do a good parody of anymore. :up:

Andy C.

12-14-2011, 02:02 AM

The best is yet to come. Later. Right now, though, I'm beat.

Andy C.

12-18-2011, 02:59 AM

PART III

"All that planning and plotting and revising and posting," said the One-Earth Joker as he and Andy C. walked down a busy snow-covered street. "Makes ya sick after a while, doesn't it? Putting all that work into a story arc and knowing that maybe a dozen people on the entire planet are going to read it, and the only reward you get is maybe a tip of the hat in the OOC threads. Times like that it starts to feel more like a chore, eh?"

"I wouldn't say a chore, exactly," Andy said defensively. "Maybe more of an obligation, or a duty."

"Heh, 'doody,'" the man laughed to himself. "Well, while we're strolling down this disgustingly Victorian boulevard, let's take a look in at some of the houses and see what everyone's up to, shall we?"

Stopping along one of the rows of old-timey houses, they peered in through a frost covered window and saw someone sitting at his computer.

"Why, it's Carnage27!" exclaimed Andy. "And he's putting out another post as Captain America!"

"I'm pretty sure he's already managed to put out more posts in the short time One-Earth has been around than you did during your entire run as Cap in All-Star," the Joker snickered.

"Don't remind me."

"Too late! Just did," he said with a laugh."Ooh! I wonder what's going on in that window over there!"

Shoving carolers and shoppers out of his way, and then going out of his own way to shove an elderly woman on a patch of ice, the Joker moved over to another window, wherein Andy C. saw another fellow RP'er plucking away.

"Why, it's MST3K4Ever!" he said. "He's just finished posting as one of his characters, and--my word! He's about to post as his other two immediately after!"

"Well, that happens when you play multiple characters, all of whom you are eager to play," he said. "And what have we here?"

Andy turned his attention to see two familiar figures.

"Well I'll be! BK and Catman are both back!......oh, wait, no, just BK. Catman changed his mind and ran off again."

"Better than both of them running off, I guess," Joker shrugged. "Anyway, are you getting what I'm trying to pound into your thick greasy head?"

"My head is not greasy," Andy said.

"Hah, tell that to your dermatologist," he laughed.

"Shut up. Anyway, no, I don't really get what you're doing, just showing me other members posting."

"Exactly," Joker said. "They're posting. A lot. And more than that, they're enjoying the fact that they're posting. They're having fun! I mean, look at you. You're not posting; instead, you're standing out in the snow with a homicidal psychopath peeping into people's windows. Are you having fun?"

"Well.....not really, no," Andy admitted. "And let's be honest, the 'Ghost of Christmas Present' sequence is usually the boring part of any Christmas Carol re-telling, what with all the shmaltzy Bob Cratchett and Tiny Tim stuff, so--"

Joker thumped him hard on the back of the head.

"Look, I'm just trying to get through this as quickly as I can because I'm apparently not able to kill anyone in this little segment," he grumbled. "I'm trying to get the point across that good things happen when you post."

"And if I don't post?"

"Well, I hate to leave before the punchline," the Joker said, his smile fading, "but that bit's left to my following act."

"And who's that?"

"*ahem*," coughed a voice behind him. "That would be me."

Andy turned to see the newcomer, blinking his eyes. When he did, the snow-covered streets and windows into other posters' Christmases blinked out of existence, as did the Joker.

Now, all around him was dark, and cold, and empty, like deep within an enormous cavern. Andy shivered despite himself, and saw before him a pale, dark-haired girl in black.

"So you're---......wait, I've never actually played you before. I've only used you as an NPC."

"True, but most of what you've got in store for me is in the future," the girl responded. "Not to mention I'm the only character in your repertoire that matches the appropriate motif for your final vision......"

http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b73/nowhereman716/Comics/4511204633_299b8d7368.jpg

"I'm Ultimate DC Raven. Or rather, the Ghost of RPGs Future. And this is where it starts to get spooky...."

Carnage27

12-18-2011, 11:36 AM

HA!

Love it, Andy.

*Says that as I work on yet another Captain America post*

Andy C.

12-22-2011, 07:37 PM

PART IV

Andy cowered and trembled as the world around him swirled and spun as if caught in a great tumult. Beside him, the Ultimate DC incarnation of Raven, the Ghost of RPGs Future, stood still and calmly.

"We're about to glimpse into what the games may become," she explained. "But I should let you know, this might be....unpleasant."

The swirling vortex of possibilities slowly dissipated, taking solid form.....

"Wh--.....where are we?" Andy stammered. "A hallway? Just an ordinary hallway?"

The corridor that stretched before them seemed unspectacular, off-white walls with a row of office doors on each side, the floor lined with a somewhat ugly carpet, the hallway illuminated by dim fluorescent bulbs that buzzed incessantly.

As they rounded the corner, Raven stopped Andy when she saw two figures approaching.

"We can't be seen here," she said urgently. "This is not a safe place."

They ducked into an empty office, and saw the figures passing by: two police officers. One was a strapping well-muscled blonde man, the other an odd-looking black man with just a hint of an oversized brow.

"So, we're in a police station?" Andy asked.

"Not just any police station," Raven corrected him. "This is the headquarters of the GCPD, the most brutal and corrupt criminal force in Gotham City."

"So who were those guys?" said Andy. "They weren't Gordon or Bullock, or even someone like Flass."

"Sergeant Arthur Curry," Raven gestured to the blonde man. "After Trusty stopped posting, Byrd Man re-imagined him as a corrupt Gotham City beat cop who is an acute hydrophobic and hates fish. With him is Officer John Jones, a.k.a. 'The Martian.' They call him that because he's a rookie, which means he's green, like a Martian. He's not actually a Martian, though; that would be silly and unrealistic."

"Oy," said Andy, rolling his eyes. "But wait, wasn't Aquaman already established in Ultimate DC?"

"Ultimate DC version 2, yes," answered Raven. "But this is Ultimate DC version 3. You stopped posting, and others took your cue. Those who were left, took their fair share of liberties when it came to reimagining things."

Once the coast was clear, Andy and Raven stepped out of the office back into the hallway. While they tried to move carefully, each step they took made a soft crunching noise, as if they were walking on sand.

"What's happened to the floor?" Andy asked as they slogged through a granular soot-like substance. "It's covered in all this grainy stuff."

"That's grit," Raven said. "This new incarnation of DC is grittier than it's ever been. Everyone wallows in it, eats it, breathes it. And everyone who has it into their system becomes a corrupt detective, a drug addict, or some kind of sex freak."

"That sounds ghastly," Andy said, disgusted. "Whoever would willingly do that to their own characters is simply not right in the head."

"Hmph, you're one to talk," quipped Raven. "Considering how much time you spend writing about teenage superheroes and their sex lives. I think you might have some rather serious issues regarding-- oh, look, inside that office."

Inside, a man was tied to a chair with a long length of rope, his face covered in bruises and open wounds. As he openly wept and begged for mercy, a severely muscular woman with her long black hair pulled back into a tight ponytail kicked him hard in the mouth, sending him sprawling down to the floor.

"That poor fellow," Andy lamented.

"That's Snapper Carr," said Raven. "A homeless pedophile rapist and murderer, who used to be a corrupt GCPD detective. He's being worked over by Captain Diana Prince, better known as 'the Amazon,' since she's a bodybuilding man-hating lesbian, and not because she's an actual Amazon--because that would be silly and unrealistic, of course."

"Good Heavens," said Andy, aghast. "So all of the different superheroes now are just corrupt and twisted police officers, I guess to make it all the more impressive when Batman comes in and takes them all down?"

Raven looked at him with an eyebrow raised.

"Batman?"

"Yes, you know, Batman! The Caped Crusader, the Dark Knight, the most ridiculously over-romanticized superhero of all time, the protector of Gotham City! Bruce Wayne! BATMAN!

"Ohhh, Bruce Wayne," said Raven, picking up on the name. "He's around here somewhere, but I don't think you'd want any help from him. He's got the entire GCPD in his pocket, using them as foot-soldiers for his criminal empire, and using Wayne Industries as a front for his operation of smuggling weapons, drugs, prostitutes, kiddie porn, and everything else that's unpleasant and gritty in and out of Gotham. And anyone that stands in his way, like Lieutenant Dick Grayson or Barbara Gordon, he takes into the back and shoots with the same gun he used to kill his own parents."

Stopping in his tracks, Andy pounded his fist against the wall, shaking a black cloud of grittiness into the air.

"This is stupid!" he protested. "Everything about it is wrong just for the sake of making it wrong!!!"

"I take it you don't care for the mature new re-imaginings?" Raven asked.

"'Re-imaginings?!'" Andy blurted, indignant. "What re-imaginings?! If you completely strip away everything that the established character ever stood for or believed in, then it's not a 're-imagining!' It's just playing a completely different character that just happens to have a familiar name slapped onto it!"

"Keep your voice down!" Raven shushed him. "You don't know who might be listening, especially with that kind of talk! Chief Inspector Clark Kent doesn't like when people question the way things are done here--especially after he had that nosy reporter Lois Lane killed."

"Oh COME ON!!!"

"I'm serious," Raven warned him. "Nothing gets past him here; the other corrupt cops say the way that information gets to him, it's like he has X-Ray vision and super-hearing. Not that Clark Kent actually has any kind of super-powers whatsoever, of course--that would be silly and unrealistic."

"IT'S GODDAMNED SUPPOSED TO BE SILLY AND UNREALISTIC!!!" Andy roared. "The whole point of superhero mythology is that it's escapist fantasy, humanized metaphors for good and evil in technicolor spandex! That's what makes it fun! This, though? This is just The Shield without Michael Chiklis!"

His outburst finished, Andy took in a deep breath.

"Luthor," he finally said. "I always loved playing Luthor. Coming up with crazy world-domination schemes, slowly but surely bringing the plot to a boil before capping it off with a big scene-stealing finale. There's no way I'd let Luthor be part of.....part of this."

Raven closed her eyes and sighed.

"You may want to brace yourself," she said, before putting a hand on Andy's shoulder.

When he opened his eyes, he saw they were now in a vast cemetery, spanning for miles in all directions. The sky was black, tinged with red, and grit fell from the sky like snowflakes.

"Where are we now?" he asked, afraid to know the answer.

"The Character Graveyard," Raven answered. "This is where abandoned characters go when their player leaves. Sometimes, if they're very lucky, another player will pick them up, but most simply wither and die."

Andy looked at the tombstones, reading them by name.

"Nick Fury, One Universe version 1......Bizarro, Ultimate DC version 1......Sonic the Hedgehog, the Multiversers...........Uncle Sam, World of Heroes......"

Among the tombstones, enormous monuments stood high, towering black obelisks with titles engraved into them.

"Ultimate DC version 1.......The Multiversers......Tumbleweed......The Silver Age RPG.......Hype Horrors 2 and 3......All-Star Marvel....."

"It isn't just characters that die when the player leaves," Raven said. "Entire games dry out and fade away. They are laid to rest here as well."

A cold, painful realization swept over Andy.

"All of these characters....they're characters I played! Those games are ones I had a hand in!"

"Yes," said the pale goth girl. "This is your Graveyard. This is where we all go....when you don't post."

Finally, they approached a single, simple tombstone, one that Andy feared more than anything to see.

"No," he said breathlessly. "It....it can't be....."

The epitaph was short:

HERE LIES ULTIMATE DC v3 LEX LUTHOR

KILLED FOR NOT BEING A CORRUPT ENOUGH COP

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!" Andy screamed.

"You didn't post," Raven said sadly. "Nobody did. You, Master Bruce, Sensei, wieg, Keyser.....one by one you all left. Twy locked herself away, waiting for the day she could play Dinah Lance again. Blacklight hanged himself after All-Star Marvel rebooted and his Spider-Man application was beaten out by Byrd Man's re-imagining of Peter Parker as a corrupt detective who never gets bitten by a radioactive spider. And slowly but surely, the games died."

"Answer me this one question!" Andy said, begging on his knees. “Are these the shadows of the things that Will be, or are they shadows of things that May be, only?”

Still the Ghost of RPGs Future pointed downward to the grave by which she stood.

“Men’s courses will foreshadow certain ends, to which, if persevered in, they must lead,” said Andy. “But if the courses be departed from, the ends will change. Say it is thus with what you show me!”

"You're really taking the Scrooge act to heart now, aren't you?" said Raven, backing away from Andy uncomfortably.

"I am not the man I was. I will not be the man I must have been but for this intercourse. Why show me this, if I am past all hope!...I will honour the RPGs in my heart, and try to keep them all the year. I will post in the Past, the Present, and the Future! The Spirits of all Three shall strive within me. I will not shut out the lessons that they teach. Oh, tell me I may sponge away the writing on this stone!”

Before Raven could answer, Andy heard a piercing buzz, one that shook the Graveyard around him to pieces........

.....and found himself awake in his bed, the alarm clock sounding.

"Why.....it was all a dream!" Andy exclaimed! "The games haven't died or gone to crap after all!!!"

"Will you keep it down in there?!" his roommate said from the other room. "I'm still trying to sleep!"

"Cram it, dickface!" Andy said joyfully, before leaping out of bed and sitting down at his computer. "Oh, this is a glorious day to live, to love....and to post!"

Andy pulled up the SuperHeroHype forums, and opened the threads.

"Why hello, Ultimate DC version 2! I believe it's time for a new Dick Grayson post! And a Wonder Woman post while we're here! And why not, even a Vandal Savage post!"

His posts written with enthusiasm and joy, he tabbed back into the Comic Books & Genre RPGs Forum.

"And now to post in World's Finest!" he said, beginning yet another post.

Opening up his instant messenger, he sent IMs to each of his fellow Basement Dwellers:

"Merry Christmas, Master Bruce! Season's Greetings, Keyser Soze! Happy Holidays, Spike! Feliz Navidad, Trusty! Yuletide cheer to you, Blacklight! And to you, wiegeabo, and Twylight, and Catman, and Sensei, and Bkhedr, and Carnage, and MST3K, and Supergirl, and NitemareShape, and Watchman, and Bounce, and Mr. Majestic, and Erin, and sumowrestler, and Hound55, and sabetoonth, and Byrd---.........actually, no, not you, Byrd Man. **** you."

And so Andy C. learned the true meaning of the RPGs, and will always keep them in his heart.

God Bless Us. God Bless Us, Every One.

Except You, Byrd.

**** You.

THE END

Byrd Man

12-22-2011, 07:54 PM

**** you right back, you son of a *****.

Edit: I also love the message. Oh so subtle.

MST3K 4ever

12-22-2011, 08:09 PM

That was one of the best things I have ever read on this message board....ever!

Very Well done Andy C.

And Happy Holidays to one and all and your loved ones.

Batman

12-22-2011, 08:23 PM

Nicely done. :up:

Though the end is a bit too fantastical - I mean, it ends with you actually posting.

Carnage27

12-23-2011, 07:59 AM

Though the end is a bit too fantastical - I mean, it ends with you actually posting.

It's funny because it's MB saying this.:dry:

Andy C.

02-16-2012, 02:21 AM

The Cave

The floor is cold and hard. That's the first thing I realize as I regain consciousness. The second thing is the harsh, artificial light that stings my eyelids. Opening my eyes, I see I'm lying in the middle of a sterile white room with a bare concrete floor, lit by bright fluorescent bulbs.

My clothes are gone, replaced by what seems like athletic wear--a tight jumpsuit and light shoes. I see a small cot in one corner, and a toilet and wash basin in the other. There's a single door, a sliding panel with no visible handle or switch.

Last night, I was out......trying to cause trouble. Trying to find the right person to hurt. I needed to do something after what happened. For a moment I think of the faces of my Mom and Dad, my brother and sister.......before I push those thoughts away.

I'll never see any of them again. Crying about it now won't do me any good.

I look everywhere around the room for something I can use, to escape, or at least figure out where I am. Who did this? And why? I'm nothing special, I'm just a carnie. Who could want to--

My train of thought is interrupted by the door sliding open. I spring to my feet, with no idea of what I'm going to do. I could make a run for it, maybe? I could try and fight whoever comes through the door........no, that's probably a bad idea.

Until I find out what's going on, I need to be careful.

"Hey!" I hear a voice shout angrily from outside. "I said HEY! What the hell is this?! I want some damn answers!"

Cautiously I peer through the door, and see another boy about my age, wearing a similar uniform, pacing impatiently in a larger chamber--same concrete floor, same fluorescent lights, only the ceiling seems to be the inside of a cave. He's practically shaking with anger, just begging to throw a punch at someone.

"Hello?" I hear a girl's voice call out. "Is anyone else there?"

I step into the chamber and see a girl, also around my age, her red hair pulled back tight into a ponytail. She's very pretty, almost distractingly so, walking with the kind of floating grace that suggest she's a dancer.

"Does anyone know where we are?" I ask, the angry guy and the pretty redhead turning their attention to me.

"I....I don't know," the girl says, trying to keep a level voice and mask her panic. "I was on my way to the library, and I passed by the old clock tower, and then......then I woke up here."

"Different location, same story," says the guy, punching his hand nervously. "When I find out who did this, I'm gonna--"

"What? You're gonna 'kick his ass?'" asks a third voice, scoffing. Out from the shadows steps a younger boy, maybe twelve years old. "Whoever's doing this, they grabbed us without any trouble. I seriously doubt they'll have much more difficulty with a direct assault. We need to think this through."

"And who asked you, twerp?" the angry guy spits, heading over to the kid to shut him up the hard way.

Before he can reach him, though, I put myself in his way, and get in his face.

"Back off, pal," I warn him. "This isn't a schoolyard, and being a bully isn't going to help."

"Oh yeah?" he snorts. "If you're gonna talk like a big man, you'd better do something to back it up."

He shoves me, and I shove back.

"Guys! Cut it out!" the redheaded girl shouts, trying to get us to separate. "Fighting isn't--"

"Excuse me?" comes the voice of another girl, even younger than the first kid. Her eyes are wide with worry, but obscured by her blonde bangs. "Does anyone know what's happening?"

"Yeah, if you two are done spraying down the floor with testosterone," says yet another guy, his hair spiked up into a fauxhawk, "I think the brainy kid had a point."

He's joined by a teenage girl, Asian by the look of her, who doesn't say a word. She nods silently.

"You're right," I say, stepping away from the hotheaded jerk. "Cooler heads prevail. I'm--"

"I see you're all awake," says a voice, resounding from seemingly everywhere in the chamber. "And you're all wondering why you're here. The short version is you're here because I brought you here. The long version is you're here because I brought you here, because society needs you to be here."

There's a cold strength in the voice, an absolute authority. But at the same time, it sounds......tired.

"Society is crumbling, and few are willing to do anything about it. The forces of good and evil have been at war here for years, and the fact that the good people aren't willing to admit it is why they're on the brink of losing. And in desperate times, I've resorted desperate measures. That's why the seven of you have been drafted."

We all look at each other with uncertainty.

"Each of you has lost something precious to you, something you lost to evil people," the voice continues. "I am offering you the chance to set things right, to prevent others from suffering the way you have. But understand, it will not be easy."

The redheaded girl moves closer to me, holding herself. Uneasily, I put a hand on her back to comfort her. The hothead sneers at it.

"Nobody knows where you are. Nobody is coming to help you. Here, you will be tested to and beyond every limit you have ever known. You will hurt and suffer, you will hate each other, you will hate yourselves, you will hate me. Believe me now, these will be the worst days of your lives. But through it you will become better than you have ever been. Better than anyone has ever been. And you will do so, because you don't have a choice."

The brainy kid scans the chamber, trying to see anything he can use to his advantage. The little girl looks like she's going to cry. The fauxhawk guy tries to stay nonchalant, but can't hide his fear. The Asian girl's doesn't seem to show any emotion.

"I want you to know that I take no pleasure in doing this to you; it's what has to be done," the voice goes on. "But I will not relent. And neither will you, if you know what is good for you. Trust yourselves, and trust each other......but not too much. One of the seven of you is already working for me."

A cold shiver runs down my spine at the thought, and immediately everyone starts looking at each other suspiciously, accusingly.

"What does he mean by that?"

"It means one of you is gonna try and sell me out!"

"What's--"

"Hey, don't look at me! I'm not--"

"What if he's just messing with us?"

"Yeah? And what if you're the one who--"

"CUT IT OUT!" I shout, and everyone goes quiet. "I don't know any of you, and I know you don't know me, so right now none of us has any reason to trust each other. If we're going to get out of here, we need to work together. Whoever the mole is--if there even is one--it just means there's one person we can't trust. It also means that there's six other people that we can trust."

I step forward, extending my hand to anyone who'll take it.

"My name's Dick. Dick Grayson."

After a moment of hesitation, the pretty girl with the red ponytail takes my hand.

"Barbara Gordon," she introduces herself.

The bad-tempered jerk snorts, before reluctantly putting his own hand on top of ours.

"I'm Jason," he says. "Jason Todd."

The brainy kid is next.

"Tim Drake," he says.

The Asian girl puts her hand in the group, but doesn't say anything.

"She doesn't say much," fauxhawk says. "Her name's Cassandra Cain. I go by Terry McGuinness."

The little girl is last, shyly approaching the group before putting her hand in.

"....Stephanie Brown...." she mumbles.

"Welcome to the Cave, children," the voice says. "Welcome to the first day of the rest of your lives."

Batman

02-16-2012, 02:30 AM

I am intrigued (and even a little aroused).

Andy C.

02-16-2012, 02:39 AM

That's what you get when you fall asleep after taking a break from your fourth play-through of Arkham City to read Ender's Game.

Carnage27

02-16-2012, 09:57 AM

Family Secrets
Finale

Fire rains down from the sky as I hobble up to the top of the building, leaving Raphael where he fell, gravely wounded. I leave him like we left Donnie and Mike behind as well, pushing ourselves towards the top of the Foot Clan's stronghold in order to achieve our destiny and enact revenge upon Oroku Saki and bring the Foot Clan crashing down.

They've done so much to this city, to this world, that justice must be done. Weeks ago they assassinated every government official in the city to send a message after weeks of us and the police working in tandem to shut their operations down. Not only that, but they helped that Rasputin guy bring about what ever is happening out there tonight. Some are calling it the end of the world. If that's the case, Oroku Saki will die before he sees it.

As I push open the door to the roof, I look up to see the immense dragon heads still writhing in the sky, reaching down to seemingly devour the earth.

"So one of you actually made it?" I hear the same sinister laugh that taunted me the night I failed to save Splinter from April's burning building. I turn to see the immense form of the Shredder standing in the middle of the roof, his armor glowing orange from the fiery rain. "I'll have to better train my elite guard next time."

I draw my last remaining katana and face him, "There won't be a next time, Shredder. Tonight you die, and justice will be served at the world's end."

He laughs a deep laugh, "This is not the end, freak. The world is merely being reborn in my friends' and I's image. And I will not be the one dying tonight. Come now, and let me gut you like the pathetic creature that you are."

Gathering my remaining strength, I rush at him, my sword raised and prepared to strike. As I reach him, though, he moves like lightening. His sword is drawn and I have to move faster than I ever have to block his strike. After a few more strikes and counters, he drives his foot into my chest, sending me tumbling backwards. I slip over the side of the building, but manage to grab the side before falling to my death.

"You fight well," he laughs from above. "I'm not surprised you made it all the way to me. But you must realize you really don't stand a chance. I'm your superior in every way, turtle. It's why no one has stopped me in my lifetime, and it is why no one ever will. But I am impressed. Come up here if you have the strength. I want to give you the gift of an honorable death."

I manage to swing myself back up onto the roof, and grab my sword where I dropped it, "You're awfully sure of yourself. You'd get along with my brother Raph."

Rolling towards him with surprising speed I bring my blade up, catching him across the front of his leg. His armor takes the brunt of the blow, but I hear a satisfying grunt of pain from my opponent. But as I bring my sword down to attack his shoulder, he brings his own sword up and the clang of metal rings out.

"That may be so," Shredder says with vile joy. "It's too bad he is dead."

I shouldn't allow the comment to get to me, but it does. Raph was alive when I left him, but I'd be lying to myself if I thought there wasn't a good chance he was dead, as well as my other brothers. And Splinter. It's just then I realize that I very well could be alone in this world, and that thought breaks my concentration.

Shredder shifts his weight, allowing his clawed hand freedom. He slashes it across my face, sending white hot pain running through me. I attempt to raise my sword to defend myself, but it's easily batted away and out of my hand, clanging across the roof of the building. My vision is blurred as blood seeps into my eyes, but Shredder is visible enough to avoid most of his attacks.

But eventually my impaired sight causes me to trip over piping laid across the roof, and I scramble backwards on my hands and feet, attempting to distance myself from him.

He laughs at this, "There. Now you look like a real turtle. Crawling like the scum you are trying to flee your superior." He raises his sword and says, "I will honor you by hanging your shell in my trophy room."

I prepare myself for the strike that will end my life, and I say a silent prayer that I will be reunited with my family soon.

But the sword doesn't fall, and instead, Shredder yells in pain and I look up to see an arrow sticking out of his arm. He drops to a knee, and behind him stands a ghost.

"You will not win tonight, Oroku Saki," Master Splinter says angrily. "Tonight justice will be served for my master, Hamato Yoshi."

I scramble, gathering my sword and stand by Splinter's side, not sure if this is real, or I've died and gone to the after life.

But Shredder just laughs again, louder and with more enjoyment than before, "It all makes sense now. The fighting style was so familiar. So very much like my own. Splinter. My old rat."

He takes off his mask, and Splinter draws a sharp, surprised, and pained breath. The man is horribly burned, but Splinter obviously recognizes him. "No. It cannot be. You died."

"No," he shakes his head with a grotesque smile on his face. "Saki died in the explosion, and I saw the opportunity I always craved. Freedom. My own criminal empire here in America. It's why I came here in the first place. The Foot in Japan had become soft, but America was open for business. I would start my own branch, and I would make the greatest criminal empire the world had ever seen. The Foot sent Saki to stop me before I started. But obviously they failed."

Halfway through his speech, I realize what's happened. Oroku Saki has been dead for my entire life. The Shredder is Hamato Yoshi. The man my father idolized and respected. My entire life, hell, Splinter's entire life has been built on lies and deceit.

"So, rat, you've wasted your entire life trying to exact revenge on a man who's been dead and actually is more in line with your teachings than the man you wanted to avenge. This is an even sweeter victory than I ever could have imagined."

"Who says you're gonna win, Shred-head?" a voice comes from the door to the building. There stands Raph and my other brothers, bloodied but alive. "Last time I checked we got an undefeated record against your goons. Now it's your turn."

"Impossible," he mutters under his breath.

"Come on dude," Mikey laughs painfully. "We're six foot, walking, talking turtles. Now that's impossible."

"You're done, Shredder," I say, pointing my sword at him. "Give up or fall on your own sword. You decide."

"I'll take option three," he responds, pulling another thermite grenade, the same kind that engulfed April's house.

"No!" Donnie yells, sliding towards him and knocking the grande from his hand and over the side of the building.

I waste no time, I duck beneath a slash from Shredder's sword and drive mine through a weak part of his armor. I whisper in his ear, "Justice has been served."

Pulling out my sword, and with a quick flick of my wrists, I decapitate The Shredder. The leader of the Foot Clan. Hamato Yoshi. My surrogate grandfather.

I drop to my knees as Shredder's head rolls away from us, and my father and brothers embrace me as the world nears its end.

********

OOC:

Needless to say this would have been the climactic showdown at the end of the first season of the Turtles in the Independents game. Since that game is never going to work, I figured I'd just post it to show the twist I was planning on implementing with Shredder's identity.

Carnage27

02-16-2012, 09:38 PM

So I've got a project idea I'm going to start this weekend. Started out as an idea for a Independents arc, but I'll morph it to be more of a standalone thing.

Byrd Man

02-16-2012, 09:41 PM

Don't jibba jabba about it! Do it! Do it!

Carnage27

02-16-2012, 09:54 PM

Don't jibba jabba about it! Do it! Do it!

I will, dangnabbit! I've got a big action sequence to deal with in OE first!

Carnage27

02-19-2012, 12:00 AM

The Gathering
Part 1

"I thought you said I was clear!" he yells into the communicator as he scrambles over a street vendor's stall, almost falling in the process. He turns to see the man in hot pursuit, and the vendor yelling obscenities in Arabic his way. The man glides smoothly over the stall and gains a little ground. "Damn this guy is good."

"I dunno what to tell you kid," his partner says on the other end of the line. "You were clear goin in. The guy doesn't match out records of the guards. And it looked like he was waiting for you to leave."

The man being chased hops onto a few crates and then jumps, barely grabbing a hold of a rooftop ledge. He climbs over it and springs to his feet, hoping he can get enough room between him and his pursuer.

But as he hops over an air conditioning unit, he turns to see the man come over the rooftop, "Damn, damn, damn, damn."

Coming to a drain pipe, he shimmies up it to a higher level, interupting a couple having a romantic nighttime dinner on a terrace. He accidentally knocks over their wine bucket and apologizes, "Sorry, folks! But hey, it'll be a story!"

Stumbling onto the roof, he almost falls as the shingles slide out from under his feet, sending a few cascading onto the streets below. He hears the faint shattering as they hit the ground, but manages to keep his footing and heads towards the opposite end. But he comes to a sliding stop after seeing the courtyard below, and the gap to the nearest ledge.

But the decisions is made for him, when he hears more shingles shattering, meaning the other man has reached the roof. He backs up and readies himself for the jump, "Ah hell. I need a new job."

He makes the leap easier than he anticipated, smashing though a set of shutters and rolling into a patron's room. A woman shrieks and covers up her bare bosom, while her partner starts to threaten me. Getting up and running towards the exit to the hallway he remarks, "Man I am such a cock block tonight."

Barreling down the hallway, the man's screaming intensifies, meaning his new friend made the jump as well. The one fleeing hopes the angry partner will slow the other down, but he wouldn't be on it.

He makes it down to the kitchen, but the seeker has caught up. In a desperation move, the man swings open a freezer door trying to knock the other down, but to no avail.

The two of them spill out into an alley, and finally, the man is cornered. He draws his weapons and points it at the aggressor, "I don't want to shoot you. But I will. There's no way I'm ending up in jail tonight. Or ever really."

http://i1140.photobucket.com/albums/n561/spiderIegs/nathan-drake.jpg

"I wasn't planning on taking you to jail, Mr. Drake," the other responds in a British accent. He's masked in shadow, so Drake can't get a good look at him. But he's confident, that's for sure. And athletic. And probably knows hundreds of ways of killing Nathan. "But I must say, your reputation is obviously earned. You were not easy to catch."

"British? What are you, private security?" Drake asks, not caring for small talk. "Or are you someone hired to come after me for revenge? I hate those kinds of guys. And let me remind you, I'd rather not shoot you."

"I'd rather you not as well," the other laughs. But not an amused laugh. More of a cold, calculated laugh. A laugh that says, "If you tried, it wouldn't work". But he continues, "I'm not here to take that piece you just stole from you. No, on the contrary, I'm here to ask for your help."

Drake, while still uneasy, lowers his weapon, "You do know there are better ways of going about hiring me, right? Like maybe a phone call. Email? Text message? Anything is preferable to the whole rooftop chase. I do that too much as is."

"Yes, well, I needed to make sure of your prowess," the other man responds. "You are a professional, that's for sure. Most people would have needed at least one partner to pull of the heist you just did."

"I learned from the best," Drake says proudly.

"Indeed you did. Now, would you like to hear my offer? It's incredibly important and time sensitive."

"Sure," Drake nods. "But first, I'm at least gonna need a name."

"My name?" he says, stepping into the light.

http://i249.photobucket.com/albums/gg222/AsrielBelacqua/james-bond-daniel-craig-ein-quantum.jpg

"Bond. James Bond."

**********

"So what's this important job you've got lined up?" Nathan Drake asks, taking a sip of beer and leaning back in his chair. He didn't very much trust the man sitting in front of him, but the urgency in the man's voice meant there could be a big pay day in line.

"I'm putting together an expedition for the United Nations," Bond responds, taking a sip of his own drink. A martini. A little frilly for Drake's taste, but the British man made it work. The guy just oozed class. The complete opposite of the rough-around-the-edges Drake. "We set out in a few weeks."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Victor "Sully" Sullivan says from the third chair at the table. Sully has basically been Nate's father for the better part of his life, and the man that taught Drake everything he knows. And he is not happy with what he's hearing, "I don't know if you realize, buddy, but we're not the most respectable people. Teaming up with people who would probably like to arrest us doesn't seem like that great of an idea."

"They're willing to overlook past transgressions for your cooperation," Bond says. "As well as providing hefty compensation."

Sully is about to protest more, but Drake waves him down, "Relax, Sully. So where are we headed. What are you looking for?"

"Have you ever heard of Hamunaptra?'

Drake lets out a chuckle, "Come on. That old bedtime story? Yea I've heard of it. Old city of the dead in Egypt. Lost for centuries until it was found in the 1920s. Supposedly some sort of evil magical force was awakened, defeated, and then the city was swallowed by the sands. You're kidding, right?"

"No, I'm not," he shakes his head. "And you know it had a sister city?"

"I know some British engineers came about something that the locals called Hamunaptra in India when building a railroad. But it's nothing more than some simple ruins."

"Yea, nothing of value was ever found there."

"Until recently...at least that's what we're led to believe," Bond says, sliding a folder over the table towards Drake. "I have to go. I have other places to be. But if you're interested, meet in London exactly one week from now. This will give you the location and some minor details."

Before either of the other men can speak, Bond excuses himself and leaves. Drake picks up the folder, noticing the small label in the top right corner, the only mark on the entire front, but says more than the man can understand.

http://i275.photobucket.com/albums/jj306/Carnage27/LEG_logo.jpg

"Kid," Sully says, looking at it too. "What the hell have you gotten us into?"