The "Heroes vs. Villains" Marvel RPG Season II - Page 5

Byrd Man · 07-13-2010, 10:48 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by Spider-Man9X17

Johnny crinkled his nose like he had just smelled some rotten garbage.

"I offer you a get out of jail free pen, and you trade it in for a visit from Peter Parker."

Johnny stood up and pushed his chair in.

"I'll give an old shout out to Petey, but rumor is he's hit the dusty trail. Take care, Matt. Don't drop the soap."

"Yeah, that won't be happening anytime soon. I appreciate your offer, Johnny. But I don't need it."

The CO comes up to me, placing his hand on my arm.

"I'm not Daredevil. I'll clear my name."

Turning around, I follow the guard out the visitor center and down the prison hallway.

TrueMastermind · 07-14-2010, 10:40 AM

Long Island is in panic. A notorious mass murderer rampaging through the streets, demanding for the Avengers to combat him. He'll recieve something similar.

The sky has a new inhabitant. Armed with the technology from a far future and possessing the genius of the world's greatest minds, villains will soon be frightened of this new arrival. Who can stop Iron Lad?

The fleeing citizen's fear only grows when the feeling of mini quakes start to erupt throughout the area. In the distance comes a hulking figure, as massive as the legendary Hulk himself. But wait a second, is that wings on his back? He can fly too? Who can stop Hulkling?

Hopping from rooftop to rooftop with the physical traits only a super soldier could possess, this scrawny kid appears to be some Captain America wannabe. Well, he has the colors, shield, and physical perfection that only America's greatest hero is known to have. But he says has super strength. And he's black. Who can stop Patriot?

Riding the scaly back of his new teammate, this young boy has a name that ranks among the greatest of all time. But will he live up to the title he has selected for himself or will he come just short? Who can stop the Asgardian, master of magic?

Eric Williams is stunned. Who the hell are these chumps, to come and challenge such a powerful man as himself? Hurling his scythe at the oddly dressed boy on top of the hideous beast, the Grim Reaper knocks the teenager clean off his bumpy ride and straight into a telephone pole. Who can stop the Grim Reaper?

Batman · 07-14-2010, 10:52 PM

Where is Spider-Man?

New York City had been abuzz with the very question for weeks. Reporters flocked to Mayor J. Jonah Jameson's offices on an almost constant daily basis to hear even a snippet on the wall-crawler's more than noticeable absence, and as usual, the one-time editor of The Daily Bugle was glad to speak on the subject whenever given the chance. But even Jameson, in his quest for the fame and the glory of driving Spider-Man out of the limelight once and for all, had not seen or heard of any sightings of his well known enemy.

His disappearance should have hardly come at a surprise. It was known to the public that before his promotion as the head of SHIELD, Osborn Industries' CEO and spokesperson Norman Osborn had been tied heavily to the webslinger's exploits, once accused of being the psychotic Green Goblin that had battled Spider-Man on several different, often violent occasions. But once Osborn revealed that his son, the long believed deceased Harry Osborn, was infact the face behind The Goblin's mask - Spider-Man vanished. Was it shame for being wrong, all of these years? Was it guilt? Or was there more to this story than the public truly even realized?

The answer was surprisingly simple: none of the above.

His spider-sense ablaze, Peter Parker had been on his way to The Daily Bugle's new main offices in Soho to make it to a job interview on time. Since Jameson had left as Editor and left the company to new management, Parker's one-time gig as a freelance photographer had gone out the window with a host of other bizarre policies that Jameson had enacted in his thirty plus years running the conglomerate. And since leaving his position as substitute teacher for Queen's south High School, Peter had been in need of the extra cash that an actual job would provide. It had taken some begging, but he finally managed to convince the Bugle's new editor that he deserved a sit down to review his past work with the company, aswell his discuss his future with it.

What he didn't count on was running into an old friend on the way there.

An old friend named Max Dillion, better known as the supervillain Electro.

"HOLD STILL, YOU FREAK!"

"Hey pot, meet kettle! You should get to know eachother!"

Dodging a blast of high-voltage electricity, Peter's masked alter-ego managed to cartwheel over a car door as everything around him crackled with unnatural life. Unwelcoming of the interference, Electro angrily floated towards his longtime enemy, propelled only by the sheer energy running through his fingertips.

"Yipes!"

In his first public appearance in a little over three weeks, The Amazing Spider-Man had thrown himself right back into the crossfire that his responsibilities seemed to draw him towards. For some reason unbeknown to anyone, Electro had been attacking a Chinatown-based social services institute run by the Roxxon Corporation. Usually prone to proclaiming his motives whenever he needlessly attacked innocent people, Spider-Man had hoped his arrival would encourage Max to reveal his intentions.

So far, all that Spider-Man had surmised was that whatever had riled him up, it didn't necessarily matter. His murderous eyes glowing with static, Electro was clearly in no present mood for talking. His voice even cracked, under the measure of power that he was wielding now.

"D-Distractions. N-Nothing more than..."

Electro's fist began to glow, sending Spider-Man's senses from neutral to an all-out frenzy.

"DISTRACTIONS!"

Sent thirty feet into the air by a jolt of electricity, Spider-Man went flying headfirst into a nearby antiquity shop's window. They were in Chinatown, so unfortunately for the webhead, there were plentiful of those. Rubbing his head in anguish, he managed to pull himself out of the debris just in time to spot Electro coming at him faster than he had ever travelled before. Thinking fast, Spider-Man leaped over the villain's head before he could be fried with a single touch.

"Whoah there, sparky! Not on the first date!"

Angrily, Electro shot out another blast. But this one managed to miss, as Spider-Man ran up the side of another wall, avoiding the sparks caused by the blast hitting the nearby electric billboards.

"Though technically speaking, this is about our sixth-hundredth. But with this red hot chemistry, who's counting?"

"ARRGH!"

Pulsating with power, Dillion pointed a stray finger towards the object of so much of his hatred over the years. "I'm sick of your stupid one liners! And your persistent nagging! You've always meddled in my affairs to no end, and it's always ended in the same tired routine! No more, I refuse to remain a laughing stock at your hands any longer! This is the day that you're going to fry, Spider-Man!"

Spider-Man placed a hand on his chest, mocking the anger with a carefree sigh.

"You can just feel the love."

Leaping over another blast of electricity, Spider-Man somersaulted high into the air and fired two sets of three weblines. Three to entangle Dillon's wrists and waist, the other three to build up over the eyes. But Electro didn't struggle for very long, as the webbing singed off of his skin in seconds.

Behind grit teeth, Electro looked back at Spider-Man as he shrugged, offering no real explanation as to why he attempted that when it had failed so many times before. "And I'm especially sick of that!"

Spider-Man tried to fire out another webline towards a fire hydrant, a method of which he had used to subdue Dillon before, but he was hit square in the face with a blast that knocked him two blocks away. Landing on his back ontop of a dented car, Spider-Man groaned as the pain coursed through his body, feeling the shock strengthen before it could weaken. C'mon, Parker. Get a grip. You're only making him angrier.

As he awaited feeling to return in his limbs, so that he could end the fight before anyone could get seriously hurt - anyone besides him, that is - the man behind the mask wondered to himself how exactly he had gotten here in the first place. What events lead him down this path, and which people pushed Peter Parker to try and take a firm grasp of his life when it had been slipping away from him for weeks.

What drove Spider-Man away?

Spider-Man9X17 · 07-15-2010, 10:19 AM

"I should be charging by the hour for this junk," Johnny grumbled as he landed, fittingly, on the torch of the Statue of Liberty. "I ain't no messanger boy."

Harlekin · 07-15-2010, 02:25 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by Previously...

You know what? I think I’ll take the motorcycle.

There’s nothing quite like rush hour in New York City. Horns are blaring as I race down a street on the Mooncycle, weaving my way through the mass of paralysed cars. Some drivers kindly turn their vehicles to the curb as I approach – the effect of the recognised vigilante’s mode of transport having the same effect as an ambulance – while others prefer to shout profanities.

On the way to the Daily Globe building, I listen to the police radio. Five armed men have made their way onto the upper two floors of the building, where the newspaper is housed. They’ve secured both levels. Fortunately, the police have already managed to evacuate the other eighteen floors. There’s been no contact with the hostage takers. No demands have been made. The police can only guess at the intruders’ motivations.

I could care less about what they want.

Police officers turn to me, guns drawn, as I approach. Some aim, others stand rooted in their spots. I accelerate, blowing through their perimeter easily. The officers reach for their walkie-talkies as I crash through the building’s entrance and glass shatters around me. I continue driving, busting down the door to the stairs.

I can discern a flurry of activity upstairs as I step off the Mooncycle and ready my grappling hook. Shooting it up to the top floor, I let the mechanism reel me up in a matter of seconds. A gunman awaits me. He’s dressed in camouflage pants, a vest (possibly Kevlar) and a cheap plastic mask. He’s cursing under his breath as he readies his gun. A swift kick to the solar plexus knocks him out.

The key now is speed and surprise. I kick down the door and make my way onto the first floor of the Daily Globe. There’s another man behind the reception desk, holding a two-way radio in one hand, a machine gun in the other. He stops talking when he sees me approach. I fling a crescent dart at the hand holding the gun. The criminal screams in pain as he drops the weapon.

“Jack? Jack?” a voice crackles over the man’s receiver.

So much for the element of surprise.

Spider-Man9X17 · 07-15-2010, 02:52 PM

Secret Decommissioned S.H.I.E.L.D. bunker
Somewhere below Washington, D.C.

“…images are from the heroic rescue today of Dr. Chandler Johns by Captain America from the extremist group The Watchdogs. Dr. Johns was taken for treatment at a local, undisclosed medical facility, but his injuries were minor…”

“Dr. Chandler Kidlstum Johns…”

“Kidlstum?”

“Family name. Father was a mail man. Mother was a nurse and homemaker. Met when he was injured during the war. Average student, no notable life events, picked up the city council gig for some extra money.”

Nick threw the file on the table for Bucky to look through.

“Probably the thinnest and most boring file I’ve ever read.”

“So is he just some nut looking for his fifteen minutes?”

“Awful lotta trouble for some quick notoriety, though I’ve seen worse.”

“Targeted for assassination after one quick news blurb.”

Nick sighed.

“We’re missing something. It doesn’t add up.”

“Any word from Steve?”

“No. He knew to meet us back here if we got separated. It’s been long enough that he should have at least checked in.”

“Nobody could have known Steve would be here, unless we’re being set up.”

“I said he should have checked in, kid. I didn’t say start jumping to conclusions.”

Byrd Man · 07-15-2010, 11:46 PM

Interlude

Hell's Kitchen

Alex Campbell couldn't believe his bad luck. He'd heard for weeks that Hell's Kitchen was fair game now that Daredevil was in Ryker's. He and his boys had cased the check cash place for a week. They hit it just as it was closing the day before welfare day. They each carried a couple thousand dollars on them as they ran out the building. That was when they seen the shadow and ran away.

Now, the three of them were running across the rooftops of Hell's Kitchen in the rain as he gained on him. The man they all said was behind bars.

Clearly, someone had been misinformed.

Daredevil landed in the middle of the three men, knocking their legs out from underneath them with a sweeping leg. Using his steel toed boot, the vigilante crushed the windpipe of one of the proned men. Turning to the other one, he fractured his skull with a well placed blow from his billy club. Then, turning to Campell himself, Daredevil began twirling his billy club in his hands.

"Y-you can't do this," Campbell stuttered. "You don't kill."

"Things change," Daredevil said with a smirk as he brought the club down.

*****

Ben Urich was on the floor below the rooftop crime scene, pressing cops for any info they had.

"Come on, Sarge, give me something."

"You want to know something?" The Detective Sergeant asked. "Alright, Urich....we got three dead bodies. Three armed robbers from a check cash place down the street."

"That all?"

"No, that's not all," the Sergeant said with a smile. "Since I know you love capes. We have eyewitnesses that saw Daredevil around the scene."

Ben Urich did a double take, checking his recorder to make sure he had it down. "That's not Daredevil's MO."

"Niether is robbery. Check cash place's owner said the robbers left out of her store with about six or seven grand in cash. When we process the scene, there isn't a bit of cash to be found."

Urich turned off the recorder, his thoughts distracted. Besides the fact that Matt Murdock was currently a "guest" of the State of New York at their fabulous Ryker's Island vactation resort, murder and robbery was never Daredevil's MO.

Someone out there was putting on a show dressed as Matt. Someone was making Daredevil cross the line.

bkhedr · 07-16-2010, 04:24 AM

Quote:

Originally Posted by bkhedr

"-was the scene earlier today as the Mighty Thor prevented an attempted armored car heist by the villianous Plant Man. This is just the latest in a string of heroic acts by the Avenger who has been more publicly active in the last two weeks than in any other period since his apparent return from the dead one year ago."

"Shoulda stayed dead, you ask me." a man says gruffly from his seat in front of the television before the reporter in the blue suit continues.

"But the question remains, is Thor, who claims to be the Norse God of Thunder and calls himself King of the City of Asgard which recently materialized in Broxton Oklahoma, only being so active to deflect some of the growing criticism over Asgard's presence on American soil, or do his claims to only have the well being of humanity at heart have merit. The question has polarized Americans like no other save perhaps for debates about the validity of Norman Osborn serving as America's top cop. It is a question we still don't have an answer for, despite Thor's public heroics, and like most controversial issues, only time will tell if KLIK

"Hey" the man watching the TV protested as he craned his head to the man behind him "I was watching that!"

"And it was a waste of time." the man at the back of the room, who's face is covered in shadows, says matter of factly before tossing the TV remote off to the side. "After all these weeks everything is finally in readiness, and you and I have much to do...Mr. Creel."

The night air is warm and still as the Thunderer descends softly from a cloud filled Washington DC sky and makes landfall in a secluded clearing within the grounds of the white house.

All around him are millitary police and secret service agents, their expressions and body language, betray their anxiety and they eye the Thunderer nervously as he stands towering and imposing, within their midst.

The Odinson says nothing, but he is clearly dismayed by this welcome. Once he would have been able to walk up this building freely, during the light of day and with no secrecy. Now he skulks in the dead of night like some troll at the behest of those men and women of power whom he has protected for so long.

One of the secret service agents approachs him and raises an open hand.

"Sir." he says "If you'll just follow me, they're waiting for you inside."

With that the agent turns and, along with several others, leads Thor out of the garden and to a stairway leading to an underground room where he is greeted by more armed men and two older men seated at the heavy oak table at the center of the small, yet richly appointed chamber. One of the men is dressed in a General's uniform while the other is dressed in civilian clothing. Both of them rise to greet Thor as he enters.

"Thor." the man in civillian attire says in a not unfriendly but hardly welcoming tone as he takes Thor's hand in his and shakes it "Thank you for coming."

"I'm deputy Secretary of Defence Quincy Jones and this is General Adam Roberts."

"Good day to you Sir." The general says as he too shakes Thor's hand.

"Please have a seat Thor." Jones says gesturing to a seat opposite his own which Thor eases into.

"Can we offer you anything Thor? Water? Tea? Mead?" Jones asks amicably enough but Thor shakes his head.

"If your intent is to be courteous then I bid you do me the courtesy of telling me why I have been summoned here under cover of darkness to be met in some hole like one would do with a traitor or spy?" Thor says, speaking his mind but keeping his voice calm and even.

"Right to the point." Jones says as he leans back in his chair "Fair enough. We've called you here today because we have a problem with your city and its inhabitants suddenly appearing Oklahoma."

"My people and my city have done you no harm."

"That's not the point Thor." Jones replies "The point is that you could if you wanted to, that you are an uninvited foreign force on our soverign land and that your presence is making alot of people nervous."

The Thunderer scowls in response prompting General Roberts to chime in.

"Look Thor, I know all the good you've done. Hell I've got hundreds of men under my command who would be dead a dozen times over if it wasn't for you, but you're not operating as an Avenger right now. Right now you're King of Asgard and your warriors are all armed to the teeth and sitting in our backyard. That makes the civilian leadership nervous son."

"To put it simply, while we appreciate your individual efforts on this country's behalf, public opinion is split on whether or not we should allow Asgard to remain where it is and powerful elements within the establishment are actively campaigning against you."

"When the people of Midgard see all the good we can do for them I am confident that their better natures will shine through." Thor says only for Jones to shake his head dismissively.

"No Thor, you don't understand. The public is fickle, easily malleable. They believe what they see on TV more than what they see everyday on the street, and right now their TVs are telling them that you are dangerous foreign invaders. The tide of public opinion is turning against and my government can't afford to be pulled under with you. That's why we've invited you here. To inform you officially of our change in stance."

"Hnh." Thor grunts "A wonderous beast is your democracy."

"Be that as it may," replies Jones, ignoring Thor's sarcasm "the fact remains that you and your people are no longer welcome on American soil. Already the police cordon around Asgard is being strained to its limits as more and more people try to make matters into their own hands. Graffiti on your city walls, refuse tossed at you, insults, banners, its all just the begining. Soon it will get violent and when it does it will be American people who get hurt. That is something we cannot allow."

"As of 0600 hours tomorrow morning the United States military will be moving in to relieve local law enforcement and establish a cordon around Asgard." General Roberts says matter of factly "Your people are hereby instructed to remain within your city walls until such time as the city and its inhabitants can be relocated."

"This is madness." Thor snarls "The gods of Asgard are not wandering vermin to be caged or expelled from this or any other land."

"I'm sorry Thor, I really am." Roberts replies as a less conciliatory Jones rises and adjusts his tie

"I want to thank you for coming Thor and I hope our message has been properly received."

"It has mortal." Thor says, glaring at Jones as he too rises to tower over the deputy secretary. "I hope you realize the error or your ways before it is too late."

With that Thor turns and leaves the room.

******

Elsewhere:

"So what are we supposed to be doing out here?" Crusher Creel asks as he stares at the warehouse beyond the car window he now peers through.

He sits in a van in the dark, dead of night, the warehouse before him illuminated only by a single still light street lamp in the parking lot.

To his left the man in the driver's seat flashes a thin malicious smile.

"Must you always ask so many questions? I have to tell you Crusher, when I first sought you out I had no idea you were so inquisitive."

"Yeah well when you hired me you said it'd be to kill Thor, said you'd let me have my wish and get paid doin' it!" Creel growled as he turned his head to face his employer

"But so far all I've done is wait for you to tell how high you want me to jump, and now you're givin' me grief for askin' questions?"

He turned his head back to the window with a huff

"Shoulda just squashed Thor when I saw him on the street last week."

"If you had tried to do that, you'd probably be at the Raft, or worse still, an Asgardian cell by now." The still smiling man responded.

Now Creel swivels around in his seat and wraps his large meaty hands around his employer's neck

"You forget who you're talkin' to buddy?" He snarls threateningly as he applies pressure "I ain't no small time hood to be made fun of. I'm the Absorbing man? You get that? The Absorbing man!!"

"The very same Absorbing Man who has been beaten by Thor so many times before." The employer says, straining to speak through his narrowing wind pipe "Now control yourself, be patient, and I promise you he will never best you again."

Creel looks the man's face over, considering his words, before releasing him and turning to face the warehouse once more.

A moment of silence follows as the man rubs his neck before Creel speaks up.

"So what do you need me to do?"

"Aahhh, now that's more like it." The man says as his smile returns.

He leans over Creel's shoulder and points through the window at the warehouse.

"That quiet little hideaway belongs to an inventor of sorts named Phineas Mason."

"The Tinkerer." Creel snorts

"Quite right." the man says with a nod "I have learned through my sources that the Tinkerer has recently come into possession of a weapon of the highest order. Something that recently returned to this plane of existence from beyond the brink."

"Somethin' Asgardian?" Creel asks, attempting to put the pieces together.

"Yes." the man says "Something I would have thought Thor would not bring back, but then again, I'm here so who knows what he was thinking, or if he was even thinking at all."

"So there's an Asgardian weapon in there and you need me to get it back from the Tinkerer. OK fine. But why? You've already got the best weapon there is." Creel says as he jabs a thumb into his own chest.

"Trust me." The man responds, putting a hand on Creel's shoulder as his grin widens "Bring me that axe and you will be one step closer to seeing the Thunder God broken and bleeding to death at your feet."

bkhedr · 07-16-2010, 05:50 AM

Quote:

Originally Posted by bkhedr

"I really do have to commend you Mr. Creed." Imus Champion says as he grins at me from across the long oaken table while holding a snifter of brandy in a raised hand. "You've exceeded all of my expectations since we began our little partnership."

"Sounds like you may have underestimated me Mr. Champion." I answer with a forced smile as I raise my own glass.

"Perhaps" He says as his grin widens before he downs his drink in one quick gulp.

I do the same and put the glass down then lean back in the oversized chair. I hate coming to the Champion building. Hate exchanging fake pleasantries with Imus Champion, hell I think I hate the man himself. His self important attitude, his grin, his power and wealth that put mine to shame even now; but I force myself to be civil if nothing else because my connection to Imus Champion and his international conglomerate is what makes me different from Wilson Fisk, its my edge over any of my competitors. I may be the Kingpin of New York, but Champion runs people like me all over the world and as he's so fond of reminding me, he once even took on the Avengers AND those Squadron Supreme losers on his own. For a man with no superpowers that's downright miraculous, and as I sit here watching him, I wonder not for the first time, what that fracas must have been like.

"So I understand you have finally seen the light and added a psychic to your entourage Mr. Creed." Champion says, jerking back into the here and now. "How goes your plan to put your man in the Mayor's Office."

The question takes me aback and I pause for a moment prompting Champion to grin once more.

"Come now Mr. Creed, did you think I wouldn't find out about your plans for Councilman James?"

Guess I should have figured as much. Something like rigging a mayoral election, that's something you play close to the chest. Afterall its only going to work if nobody suspects. But there's no keeping secrets from Imus Champion

"Nah." I say nonchalantly "Its not like that. Its just that there ain't much to tell yet. Election won't heat up for a couple of weeks yet and for now we're just letting the Councilman go about building up support before announcing his intent to - eh?"

I turn my head to the right and crane my ears as one of my people leans in and whispers something in my ear.

I scowl dangerously as I gather what it is that's worth disturbing my meeting with Champion, then I rise from my chair, wiping my mouth with the napkin in front of me and tossing it on to the table before I start to loosen my tie.

"You'll have to excuse me Mr. Champion." I say before turning away from the table "But I've got some business to take care of."

I watch him from my stone perch amidst the stone gargoyles that crowd the rooftops of the old neighbourhood.

Dirk Garthwaite. The Wrecker. The last one left.

For days my gang and I have been stalking the Wrecking Crew, waiting for our chance. That chance came earlier today when an argument over strippers led to an angry tussle. These guys have been a crew for a long time. Had they had the chance, they would have all blown off steam this evening then gotten back together tomorrow morning like it never happened.

Had they had the chance.

Piledriver and Bulldozer were the first two to go down. Dumb and careless, they made easy targets despite the power at their disposal.

Thunderball proved more of a challenge, even broke two or Arclight's ribs, but he went down all the same.

Now it was the Wrecker's turn.

I watch him stumbling down the street, don't even need to smell the booze to know that he's completely drunk and not the least bit awares that we're all around him.

Ignorant prick thinks he can just steal from me and get away with it. Thinks he can kill my people and get away with it.

With my anger building to a boiling point, I look left and right down the street to verify that my men are in position. I find them at the ready and already redirecting whatever sparse foot traffic there is away from this block.

Satisfied that we won't be disturbed, I turn to my left and gesture to the new hire.

"You wanna get us started kid?"

"My pleasure." she replies as she stands up while keeping her eyes locked on Garthwaite.

The effect is instantanous and clear to see even through his lurching and stumbling. Its as if he more than drunk, as if he suddenly can't tell which way is up. I try not to laugh as he trips over his own feet and slams his head into a brick wall which caves in on impact.

"Nicely done darlin'." I tell Vertigo "Now keep him down."

"No problem" she replies with a grin as I turn to my right and gesture for PowderKeg to make his move.

Frank says nothing, but rises and leaps of the building, aiming for the Wrecker.

He lands on his back, right between the shoulder blades with an explosive thump and a bang that drops him flat on his stomach.

"Wha? - Da hell?" The Wrecker tries to talk and I'm amazed at how durable, how tough, he is.

Shame he chose the wrong boss.

From his position towering over the Wrecker, Frank looks up at me for confirmation.

I nod and he raises both fists before bringing them both slamming down into the center of Dirk's back, causing another explosion which this time, brings a yell of pain from his lips.

"Yuh- no idea what trouble yur in." Dirk tries to say the words defiantly, angrily, but between the booze and Vertigo's powers he can barely keep his head up.

"Izzat so?" Frank asks as he punches him again and again.

All the while Dirk is still trying to fight and with his right hand he scrambles for his belt, trying to lock his fingers around his crowbar and having a hard time with it.

At one point he comes too close for comfort and the crack of an electrified whip striking his wrist is his reward for his efforts.

A second crack and the crowbar is snared and recovered by Lasso who now stands a few feet behind PowderKeg.

"Sorry pardner, but this ain't the kind of party where you're allowed to join in the fun." Lasso taunts as he looks the crowbar over even as Arclight emerges from the shadows.

I can tell by the way she moves that her ribs are bothering her and I'm thrilled to see her take that discomfort out on Garthwraite with a few kicks to his head and midsection.

"Stupid @($%!" She growls at him "Don't you and your fool friends know who's town this is?!"

I let the scene continue for a more minutes before I decide to get involved.

I step off the rooftop and land smoothly on the sidewalk below, then with my trench coat, trailing behind me, I approach Garthwraite and crouch beside him, sticking my claws under his chin and lifting his head off the ground.

"Hey.." I whisper "Hey Wrecker, you still in there?"

"Suh-Sabretooth." He says with all the menace he can muster.

"That's right Sabretooth." I reply proudly "Now you might think I'm here to ask you questions, to figure out who you work for, but you'd be wrong. Your partners already spilled the beans. I know all about the Hood and his designs on my turf."

I dig my claws into his tough skin, drawing angry crimson lines of blood

"Dirk my friend. I'm here to make an example out of you."

Byrd Man · 07-18-2010, 01:21 AM

Then
New York City

With my eyes glued to the floor, I enter my father's study. He looks up from behind his desk and smiles.

"Tony. How was sch-. Soon, what's wrong?"

"Mom told me to come see you," I weakly mumble. I look up at my father, revealing my black eye. "I got in a fight today at school."

"Good God! Son, are you alright?" My father gets up from his desk and inspects my eye. "I swear. We're paying that school almost six figures a year. The least they can do is watch you boys better. What about this fight? Did you start it?"

"Stanford started it! He was making fun of you! I told him to shut up and he wouldn't!"

"Making fun of me?" Dad asks with an arched eyebrow. "What did this boys say about me?"

"He said you killed people. He said that all the dead bodies on the news were because of you. It's not true!"

"Your friend has been grossly misinformed. I build and create weapons for our government, that is true. But it's the poor choices of others that lead to the dead bodies."

"But do you have to build weapons?"

"In a perfect world, nobody would ever need weapons. But the world isn't perfect, son. You'll find that soon enough, sooner than you or I would like. If the world needs weapons, then why not give them the best quality? If I didn't create these things, someone else certainly would. Guns and bombs puts food on the table, son. The next time your friend tries to tell you something, calmly remind him that your "murdering" father can buy his family five times over."

"Mister Stark?...Mister Stark? We're almost there."

Now
Over Kenyan Airspace

My eyes snap open and I look around.

"Mister Stark? We're beginning our final approach, sir. Please fasten your seatbelt."

I look at the flight attendant and smile. "Thanks."

I gaze outside the window after snapping on my seatbelt. The African city of Nairobi comes into view outside. I've come to Africa to find out exactly who is using my technology and weapons to create suicide bombs. A quick phone call to Fury gives me all the info I need on this group. Called the Group for Preaching and Combat, they're an off-shoot of Al-Qaeda with a training facility in Somalia. They might not know who's using my weapons, but they're a good start.

The reason I'm one country away from Somalia is because of all the attention a private jet landing in the war-torn country would attract. Much better to come into the country through the back door. The jet lands on the runway with a solid bump.

"We've arrived, Mister Stark," the flight attendant announces from outside the cockpit. The door opens as the plane comes to a stop. I stand up, grabbing the metallic red briefcase beside my seat. I nod at the flight attendant as I prepare to leave.

"Will you be in Kenya on business of pleasure?"

I smile, my hands running over the briefcase.

"Hopefully, a little of both."

Byrd Man · 07-18-2010, 01:41 AM

The Hood

The Hood stood on a high rooftop overlooking Manhattan, waiting on his next pawn. He'd heard about the Wrecking Crew an hour ago. Their fate mattered very little to them. They'd served their purpose. They'd sent message to Sabretooth that he was gunning for him. Step one was almost complete. He just needed the next part to send his plans into the next level.

"You're late," Hood announced the moment he sensed the new presence on the roof.

"Traffic was a real nightmare."

"I don't care about your excuses. Your tardiness means I get a ten percent discount for this job."

"Hey! What the fu-"

"Keep talking and I'll make it a twenty percent discount."

"Yeah, yeah. I heard that word on the street that you're gunning for the big man. How do I fit in?"

"I've put a plan into motion that will drive Sabretooth insane and paranoid. What good is it being the king when you're constantly looking over your shoulder, running from shadows?"

"I think I'm starting to see where I fit in."

"Okay. Fifty grand now, fifty grand when the job is done."

"Rest assured, Mister...Hood. I know a thing or two about paranoia."

"Fear is my expertise."

"Good. Shadow Sabretooth for a week. Learn his habits and what he does. Get in contact when that is done, and from there we'll move forward."

"And the money?"

Rolling his eyes, Hood tossed Larry Cranston, Mister Fear, a satchel stuffed with money.

"Fifty-five grand is in that bag. Keep the change."

Harlekin · 07-20-2010, 04:40 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by Previously…

So much for the element of surprise.

I stomp my foot down on the radio. Two down, three to go. I step through the door and onto the Daily Globe’s main floor. Immediately, I spot the lone gunman in the centre of the room, waving his revolver over the heads of the writers and other workers, who are lined up alongside their desks. They’re sitting on their knees, hands behind their weeks, terrified. The criminal’s eyes are on me, as is the rifle of his gun.

He might not able to see it, my face obscured by the mask, but he knows I’m smiling. That’s important. Most people would think I’m being reckless. But then, they forget I was a mercenary long before I was a quote unquote ‘hero’. When you’ve got people to save and targets to eliminate, there’s really only two ways to go: the long route, where you stay in the shadows and not be seen, taking out your opponents at your leisure. Or you can make sure they’ve got their eyes on you and only you.

I’m painting a bull’s eye right across my chest and that’s what’s going to keep these people safe.

Both of our faces are hidden behind masks, but we’ve locked onto each other’s eyes. Right now, all I’m really doing is playing chicken. I’m twirling a crescent dart in my hand. He’s got the gun, but he’s wondering if he’s got the power. Can he stop me before I throw this thing or before I bridge the gap and bury it in his face myself? How crazy is the Moon Knight?

“Pretty damn crazy.”

<THUD>

The gun drops, the man holds his hands up.

“Good choice,” I say as I walk towards him. We lock ‘eyes’ again as I stand before him. A right hook across the face sends him down to the floor. He won’t be getting up for a while. I hear the hostages breathe a sigh of relief, one man starts crying. Another is already up, coming to stand behind me. A card attached to his shirt identifies him as Dylan Haines, senior reporter.

“What’s on the top floor, Mr. Haines?” I ask as I pass him, walking back to the fire escape.
“Uh,” he stammers, “sales department and uhm… the paper’s owner, Miss Clayton.”

Splendid.

I make my way up the final stairs two steps at a time. I haven’t heard gunshots yet, making it fair to deduce they weren’t here to kill Clayton. They’ll want her for something, which means she needs to stay alive. Then again, desperate needs lead to desperate deeds.

Make sure they keep their eyes on you.

<KRAK!>

Not a problem.

Spider-Man9X17 · 07-21-2010, 05:42 PM

Several Days Later
Avengers Mansion
War Room: Sub-Basement Level 3

“Let’s just keep this under wraps, kid. This ain’t the first time Steve’s gone off the grid. He picks up a hot lead, and he could go dark for weeks following it.”

Bucky frowned at the holographic image of Nick Fury projecting from the middle of the table.

“That sounds like a lot of B.S.”

“Let me worry about that.”

The image cut out, and Bucky leaned back in his chair, letting out a long, deep breath. He scanned the various monitors around the room. News reports on the proceedings in Washington; impeachment trials, protests, political pundits, and countless media outlets replaying his fight from days before. It was all an organized whirlwind of chaos, all for the sole purpose of winning a ratings war. Bucky shook his head in utter confusion as the blast door behind him slid open and the shapely, slightly ravaged form of Ms. Marvel entered the room.

“Rough afternoon?”

“Bank holdup. No biggie. I needed the workout.”

Carol glanced around at the bank of screens.

“You’ve had a busy couple of days yourself, haven’t you?”

“Comes with the territory. At least, that’s what I’m told.”

Carol put a hand on her hip and blew a stray piece of hair out of her eyes.

“Well now that we’re both good and depressed, you wanna grab a bite to eat? Everyone else is out right now, and I know we could both use the company.”

Bucky thought about it for less than a second.

“I’d love to.”

Byrd Man · 07-21-2010, 07:48 PM

Days at Ryker's: 13
Assassination attempts: 15
Inmates sent to the infirmary: 26

The doctor's put the finishing touches on my latest set of bandages and leave me in the waiting area of the infirmary. Bruised ribs courtesy of being slammed into a cement wall by a would-be assassin. I took me a minute and a half to fight my attacker off and knock him unconscious. The constant attacks are getting to me. I'm slipping.

"Heard you took a lickin'," a voice calls out from behind. It's a voice I don't recognize right off the bat.

"It seems I'm popular. Everyone's got it in their heads that I'm someone I'm not."

"Yeah. But a blind man sending men to the infirmary left and right does raise an eyebrow or two, don't it?"

"I'm sorry, you seem to know a lot about me, but I'm left at a disadvantage."

"Just call me Morgan, Murdock."

Morgan. The former Harlem crimelord who put a five figure bounty on my head since I came to Ryker's. Fisk and the other losers I've put in here, I can understand them putting a price on my head. But Morgan, I'm not so sure.

"You're the man they say has it out for me."

"That'd be me, son."

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't break your arm into six places."

"Guards for one thing. They're all over the infirmary. You've been getting lucky, fighting back when nobody's looking. You come for me here, you get beat and put in the hole. You go back to Gen Pop, and you're a dead man. I'll kill you my goddamn self."

He called my bluff. He may not be on Kingpin's level, but the man has some intellect.

"Answer me this, then: why me? What did I do to deserve this bounty?"

"A few reasons. Main reason is my cousin, Train. A few years back, you kicked Train's ass when he tried to jack a car. He got sent here. He wasn't like me. Wasn't made of the same stuff that I am. He got turned out in prison, turned into somebody's *****. One night, he tried to fight back and got knifed. My cousin is dead all because of you."

"I'm not Daredevil. And even if I was, your cousin shouldn't have been stealing cars."

"True. Train wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed. Anyway, I just thought I'd come and talk to you for a moment while I still got the chance. I'm thinking about bumping my contract on you up to six figures."

"Impressive. Where does a two-bit hood get that kind of money?"

"Watch your mouth, Murdock," Morgan snaps. I can hear his heart rate rising, beating faster as his temper heats up. "I'm gonna get to you before this is over. You can bet that. I don't care if you got Fisk watching your back or not."

Morgan turns to leave. At the last second, I hold my hands up. "Wait. What do you mean about Fisk watching my back?"

"You ain't heard?" He scoffs. "That guy you sent to the infirmary a few days ago? He was knifed last night in his sleep. Kingpin put out a proclamation. While you're both in Ryker's, Matt Murdock is offically off-limits to any contracts or hits."

Wilson Fisk is protecting me. My mind races with one coherent thought.

Why?

Harlekin · 07-27-2010, 05:42 AM

Quote:

Originally Posted by Previously…

Make sure they keep their eyes on you.

<KRAK!>

Not a problem.

I bust through the door of the Daily Globe’s top floor and am instantly greeted by the sight of two guns aimed at me. Holding those guns are two heavies, wearing the same type of mask as their companions: dime-store, plastic masks with openings for the eyes and the mouth. I think one of them is supposed to mimic Bill Clinton.

Behind the two thugs, I see the Daily Globe’s sales personnel, lined up like their colleagues on the floor below. I notice there’s a gap in the right row, could they have already shot someone? The door that reads ‘K.J. Clayton’ is closed. I exchange glances with the heavies, while my hand slowly edges to my tripwire gun. They’ve already readied theirs, your standard Glock. Looks like 9mm’s. I’ve handled a lot of those in my time.

I shoot first and charge forward at the same time. The crescent dart whirls itself around the right gunman’s weapon, a sharp tug on the wire sends it to the floor. Meanwhile, I deliver a kick to the left man’s wrist that should crush about every bone there. He goes down, grabbing his hand. The Glocks lie on the floor, unfired. Now comes the snarling and the screaming.

“Rrrrrr,” the right man exclaims as he charges for me. That’s the snarling. I grab the man’s right arm and parry his attack. The arm is then easily bent up against the man’s back. Pushed far enough, it breaks. <SNAP!>

“Aaagggghhh!”

And there’s the screaming. Two swift kicks put both gunmen out of their misery, for now. The Daily Globe workers look to me, the fear still in their eyes. I ignore them as I move past them to the office of the newspaper’s owner. I let my hand rest on the knob as I listen: no sounds of movement of conversation.

Carefully, I open the door and step in.

I see the elderly miss Clayton seated in her chair, her hands strapped with tape to the sides. She looks tired, but there’s strength in her eyes.

<CLICK!>

I turn to my right.

There’s one last man. No mask. No camouflage outfit, but shirt and a tie.

And a gun.

“I’m getting really sick of having those pointed in my face.”

Optikal · 07-29-2010, 10:43 AM

Quote:

Originally Posted by Optikal

OLYMPUS

The halls of Olympus rang loud with his determined footsteps. All around him was the dusty aftermath of battle. Pillars had crumbled, blood stained pristine marble and corpses littered the ground. Ares blade remained sheathed though as he marched through carnage that was not of his making.

Entering the vast throne room, the scene of devastation was much the same as it was in the halls. Lain at the feet of the Skyfathers throne lay a familiar figure. Ares stepped to him and removed a dented helm from the mans bloodied head.

"Achilles. What has transpired here?"

The Greek Legend looked upon the God of War with grim dejection. "We fought like demons Ares. But we fought against demons. They sacked the pantheon and took a number of our own".

"Who did?" Ares growled, helping his champion to his feet.

"I don't know Lord Ares. They were darkness come to life. Like lethal shadows and we were powerless to stop them".

Ares nodded and gripped the hilt of the sword at his waist. "Clean yourself up and ready yourself Achilles. I will have need of you, my champion".

"Where are we going?" he asked, wiping blood from his face.

"We're going to find whoever sullied these halls Achilles. We're going to find whoever kidnapped my son and we're going to kill every last one of them".

Ares glared at the towering figures around him, their cold glares burning through him. Defiantly, he returned the look, catching the eye of each figure that stood around him.

"Who calls this Council to order?" Boomed a voice high above.

"It is I, Ares. Son of Zeus. Bringer of War".

The figures burst into hushed whispers, conferring with one another. The same voice boomed once more. "This Council may only be ordered by the Godhead of your pantheon God of War. You are not He".

"As observant as ever. I call this meeting because the Mighty Zeus is gone. Olympus has been sacked, Gods lay upon its marble steps and death fills the air. I call this council to aid me in seeking out those responsible".

"Ha!" The voice scoffed, "We do not meddle in such affairs, Olympian. We convene only to discuss the greater issues that this Council must confront. The trials of individual Pantheons is of little concern".

Ares snarled and removed his helm. "So whilst my people bleed into the ground, you will do nothing?! Whilst the Skyfather is gone you will simply pass over? COWARDS! ALL OF YOU!"

"I would think that recent events upon Olympus would find favour with you, God of War?"

Ares spun to find himself staring into the baleful eyes of an Egyptian Deity.

"Horus" he growled.

"Avenger of Osiris, Pharaoh of the Black Land. You know me well. Aye, I bring battle and savagery and death upon those who defy me. But Olympus was not subject to War, it was subject to vile, baseless treachery. It was the work of cowards and thieves and scoundrels! And you...!"

Ares spread his arms to encompass the Council of Gods "...Each of you condones these action through your reluctance to act! Each of you offer your tacit agreement to such villainy. You would see men and women and children die rather than act. The blood of Olympus is on your hands as much as it is those who would commit this tyranny!"

"For millennia, no God has entered these chambers with such rage in his heart, Ares. It is well documented that you hold little love for your father or even the rest of your kin. Yet there is something more to hand here. Something you are holding back. Share with us all that you have so that we may make an informed decision on the fate of your ilk".

Ares sighed and allowed his shoulders to sag. "I have a son. They have taken him from me. He's just a boy, just a child".

"We see. And now your stance becomes clear. We will impart this information upon you God of War. The realm of Gods is in turmoil, dark shadows are clouding the future. The Asgardians recently resurrected, along with the sacking of the Pantheon and the closing off from certain Eastern Gods leaves much as an unknown quantity. But we feel the winds of change upon our faces and there is undoubtedly a storm gathering. You must find one of vision and sight. They may be able to help you. Now go from these chambers and never return, God of War".

Ares roared as white light burst through his skin, penetrating muscle and bone. As the light faded, Ares found himself on Earth, Achilles waiting patiently upon a nearby rock.

"Did you gain the answers you seek, Lord Ares?"

Ares grinned a half smile at his champion. "Aye, that and more".

"So where to now?"

"Asgard".

bkhedr · 07-31-2010, 05:45 AM