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Discussion in 'RPG Archives' started by Logan Howlett, Dec 2, 2005.
For years I've worked in this particular field. Task fulfillment. In my years in this field I've completed a numerous amount of tasks, from forging signatures to assassinations. But in all my years I've always been confined to a certain type to employer and target. It seems like there's a whole other universe out there and I haven't been able to get any information on it.
But that's all about to change. I've found someone who can get me the info I want. He might even be able to provide a significant challenge. He's going to be going to a city in jersey, Gotham City. Unfortunatly, what ever he's going to do there, is going to wait. His flights been delayed.
I load one of the dead pilots in to the cargo hold of the plane and sit the other one in the co-pilots seat. I made sure that he was the only one who'd get on the plane. The girl who takes the tickets almost screamed after I pulled a .45 but I shut her up quickly. She'll follow the instructions I've given her.
"Umm ri... right this way Mr. Prometheus, is it?"
What? I didn't say anything... yeah, that's the ticket...
Are you there, God?
It's me, Pete.
But then, you probably knew that already.
My uncle died. About a week ago, a burglar broke into our house and shot my uncle. I could have stopped him. A few days earlyer, the same guy.....
Well, I'm blathering, aren't I?
Basically, the deal is that I've got superpowers, I could have helped people with them, and because I didn't my uncle is dead. So, right now I'm in the middle of Manhatten at midnight playing superhero.
I jump off the building, and begin web swinging around. From what I've seen on TV, I think they call this "patrol". God knows they called it that 500 times on Buffy (good show, but not the greatest thing since sliced bread as some like to say).
Anyway, I start looking around for signs of, well, crime I guess (as you can probably tell I'm quite new at this). Finally, I find what looks like some thugs breaking into a liquor store. I make my way down to the street, and walk through the door.
"Hi. I'd like to buy a six pack of Sam Adam's."
"Who the **** are you?"
"Why, I'm the amazing, the spectacular, the friendly neighborhood Spiderman! I'm thinking of carrying buisnbess cards, but I'm not sure I have the money for it right now. Most printing places charge alot more than you'd expect. Especially in New York. And hey, no pockets."
He turns to his buddies.
"When did the Gaurdian Angels start working with the guys from the gay pride parade?"
They start laughing like howler monkies watching Late Night.
"Now, c'mon guys. No need to be rude. I mean, we're all sensible, upstanding citizens here."
"Charlie, shoot him."
Charlie, as he seems to be called, pulls out a gun and points it at me. I jump into the air, run along the wall, and then jump on Charlie, grabbing the gun and crushing it in my hand.
"Listen. Charlie. Can I call you Charlie? Charlie, I'm rather new at the crusading vigilante thing, so let's cut the crap. I'm really really strong. And fast. So, why don't you guys just go home and call it a night?"
They take out thir guns and start shooting.
I start jumping, around, doging the gunfire. I hit each guy (lightly. I don't want to kill them) as I go. When they're all down, I web them up.
I can hear sirens, so I'm guessing one of the folks in the neighborhood already called the cops.
I head outside, jump up, and start swinging.
Look out world. Here comes Spiderman!
Sorry in advance if I break anything.
It all happened so fast.
One moment, Mom and Dad were walking along-side me after seeing some wierd movie, something about a detective and a falcon or something like that, and we were going to go for the free ice-cream you can get with the back of our ticket stubbs; the next, a Monster is aiming a gun and shoots Dad and Mom practically makes me fly, she runs so fast.
She kept running and running and even after it felt like forver we still ran, until we ran straight into a dead-end. She fumbles in her purse for something, I heard her once call it "mase" or something, and aims for the Monster's face. He holds the gun steady, aiming for Mom's head. I remember the look in the Monster's eyes: half filled with terror, the other with resolve in what he has to do. The two eyes seemed to be at war, until only one was left, still staring at Mom right in her eyes. After what seems to be more forever, his eyes drop down, the arm and the gun seemed to lower. Mom was almost thanking him when--
I saw her arm slowly loosen its grip around my own, along with everything else, gravity (I had just learned that in home-school) pushing her to the ground. I don't remember much, not many feelings and such, just one thought: Where was Mom's head? Then I figured it out. She's dead. She's dead. She would never come back. Ever.
I looked at the Monster again, with new eyes. He looked right at me, just as he looked at Mom before he killed her. Then I heard strange noises from somewhere, the sirens of police cars. Mom and Dad said that the police are supposed to help people, but they're dead and the police couldn't do anything.
I see in the Monster's eyes a new emotion: Panic. The gun moves swift and then I'm on the ground, laying over dead Mom.
The Monster slid in the shadows, melting into them, as though they were his own and he command them as his own.
That was the last thing I saw before everything went black...
...And I wake up, in the plane. I find the bottle of water I had been nursing and drank some of it, trying to wash the dream out of me. The voice of the captain rings above me in the intercomm.
"We are now in Gotham City National Airport, the time is 2:07 PM and the current temperature is 67 degress..."
I ignore the rest of the captain's words, picked up my luggage from the bottom of my chair and walk out of the plane.
As I walked out of the plane, a hoard of reporters crowd the place, practically shoving microphones down my throat, making my presence known and asking the expected questions--
"Bruce, how does it feel to be back in Gotham--"
"--Where have you been the past 9 years--"
"--The rumors about you and Princess Caroline--"
"--You think the Gotham Tigers could make it to the playoffs--"
I act reasonably polite and untie myself from the vultures, walking out of the gate and to the entrence. There, parked next the concrete, was a limo, and standing next to it, Alfred. His hairline has recedded, his hair meeting practically to the back of his head, but aside from that, he's the slim, straight, concrete man I knew practically since I was born.
"Master Bruce, it's been a long time."
"Yes, it has."
He opens the backseat door and I step inside. A minute later, he pops into the driver's side and we drive off, entering Gotham City.
Gotham City. The name is quite appropriate, actually. It has been said that the founder and archetect of most of the old buildings left standing, the man was quite insane, dabbling in the dark arts. It shows, with gargoyles and statues littered all over. The poorer section of the city, the East End, seem like a relic from the fourties. You almost expect a bunch of over-coat-bearing men in fedoras and sleek femme' fatales in red, slinky dresses to populate the area, but you'd be wrong. While it's as sleezy and gritty as those old movies are, it's without the glamour, or the chiverary. The only place in Gotham that looks some-what normal is the richest part, the business section, which is filled with skyscrapers that almost literary prove its name. Though it's cramped and hot as hell in the Summer and bitter freezing as it is now, the natives cannot help but, if not love, than accept, Gotham City for what it is.
But, if what I've heard about my city is true, then it is the people who run it that you can't help but loathe...
Jim Gordon, Leutendent of the Gotham City Police Department, age 25. Born and raised in Gotham City, at age 18, went around training with the FBI and the Marines, even serving 2 years in Desert Storm before moving back to Gotham City. Currently married with Barbara Marie Gordon, age 24, expecting.
That's essentially what his record says. He still has no idea why he moved back to this hell-hole. Perhaps it was the fairly good paycheck they were offering, perhaps it was his hometown calling back to him so that he can raise his upcoming son (he doesn't know if it's a boy, but that's what he hopes) here, or maybe he's just plain stupid. Nevertheless, he's here in the GCPD, practically the biggest cess-pool of a place since that one place they inspired Serpico from.
The cops are essentially hired enforcers for the mob, mostly "The Roman," Gotham City's largest crime-boss, who almost makes the Kingpin over in New York look like a small-timer in comparison. The chain of command follows to Police Commishioner Gillian Loeb, a old, very cubby man that is perminately stained with the smell of cough drops. After that is the Mayor, Hamilton Hill, who, while isn't massively corrupt, defeinatly looks the other way. After that is Loeb's personal bodyguard, Detective Arnold Flass, who's a very large man, practically a poster-boy of Aryanian superiority. It's ironic that Flass is Gordon's partner. Gordon has heard enough "can you blush"-esque' comments to last him a lifetime.
As of this moment, he sits in his office, tapping his pen on the standard police paperwork. He was about to start when Flass walks in.
"Jimmy! You ready to go Squadin'?" Gordon mutters underneith his breath. "Squadin'," as Flass put it, was mostly going to every pimp and hustler in the East End and taking a share of their grosses.
"Yeah, give me a minute," he replied, stalling as much as possible. He notices from outside that a bunch of people are talking next to the television hooked onto the corner of the large room. "What's going on?" He asks, pointing at the screen.
"On the Tele'? Turns out that Bruce Wayne guy isn't dead after all. From what the vultures on the box are saying, they just found his name on a record for a flight back to good ole' Gotham and swarmed on him like locusts."
"Bruce Wayne..." The name sounded familiar to Gordon, but he couldn't figure out where. "Alright, let's get it over with." He sits up from his desk and walks out, with Flass walking behind.
We drive all the way out of Gotham City and close to the countryside. I tried to make some conversation with Alfred. He tells me that not much has changed in Gotham, that things are overall quite peachy.
"You don't have to lie to me, Alfred. I'm not a child anymore, I can take it."
"...Quite right, sir. Frankly, Gotham has gone to Hell in a fodding handbasket for quite some time, pardon my language." I can't help but sigh under my breath.
"Consider it pardoned. ...Can't believe things have gotten worse. If I was--"
"No offence, Master Bruce, but I don't want to hear more 'if I was anything like my father' out of you. None of this is your fault. Quite frankly, I would suggest that if you're so worried about the status of Gotham City, that you should 'get off your arse,' as the young people put it, and do something about it. I thought that if you learned at least one thing during your 'searching,' it would have been that."
I turn away after that. Not just because of Alfred's remark--I've learned long ago that the man can make you feel like dirt without ever having to raise his voice--but the mention of my travellings and my teachings.
I have learned a lot during the past nine years, trying to find myself in the training of martial arts and criminology, and what I've learned, I don't really like...
The silence at this point was getting unbearable. I found another subject.
"Quite well. She's still working at the Clinic. You should be lucky I convinced her not to come tonight. For such a non-violent woman, she was shockingly ready to hit you some for not contacting us the whole time you were away."
That wasn't what I was completely asking. Even during the nievety of young age, I had a good idea that the two had more in common than being doctors.
The road bends and we're finally met with Wayne Manor. The stone has been colored with time, but it almost looks exactly like it was when I left.
I stare at the large mansion, everything coming back to me about the place. I can almost shut my eyes and still navigate through the grounds without so much as a slip-up.
Home. I'm back home.
I could smell the fear on him as he rode down the highway and up the dirt road. I lap it up from the air around me....it's so strong I can taste it. I think nothing of him as I wake up and walk into the bathroom to take a piss. I hear the screen door creak open and close. I flush the toilet as I finish, and turn around in time to meet my attacker's knife. It plunges deep into my shoulder and blood trickles out. I laugh.
"You'll have to do better than that. Now it's my turn."
I grin as I grab the man by his arm and throw him back through the door into the living room. He lands, face first, with a thud against the wall and blood gushes from his mouth. The old cabin's walls are sturdier than they look.
I hate it when people are in hopeless situations and still try to act like a hero. I walk over to him and pick him up again, this time by the throat. I slide my fingernails across his chin, adding a gash to the mangled face. His fear almost sends me into a frenzy, but I pull myself out of it, unsure what will haunt me this time.
"I guess that little speech was your turn. My turn again."
This game had been fun, but now I was tired of listening to his whining, so I pulled the knife out of my shoulder and looked at it.
"Looks sharp. Let's see just how sharp it is."
I drop him on the floor and put my boot on his chest. Bending down, I hold his mouth open with one hand and draw the knife to his mouth with the other. I then place the knife into his gums and pry his teeth out one by one. It looks like he has been shot in the face as the blood gushes out more and more as each tooth is cut from his jaw. Each tooth another *Snap* or *POP*. I yank him back up by the throat and look into his eyes. They look lifeless and cold, but he is still breathing.
I tighten my grip around his throat until I hear the gargling of blood entering his lungs and I launch him through the screen door that he had "snuck" through just moments ago. He lands in the sand with a thud the desert wind swirling around him. I don't care how long it takes, he will die out there under the dried up tree that the rattlesnakes live in. He isn't the first.
I grab a beer from in the fridge settle myself down in the rocking chair on the front porch. I watch the man lay there, drying up under the sun, struggling to crawl toward shade. The vultures are quicker, and they begin to eat him alive.
He boards the plane and the door closes behind him. Then I speak.
"Alright, all passengers be seated, fasten your seatbelts and put your seats in the up right position."
Prometheus begins to walk toward the plane's cockpit but I've planned for that also.
"I would advise against that Prometheus, the doors been rigged with explosives and we're just about off of the ground. I doubt you could survive a 30,000 foot fall without a parachute. So, I suggest you sit down and stay calm, while we take a little detour."
Prometheus looked somewhat surprised. He hadn't suspected there was someone who could set this all up. He sat in his seat and waited.
I finally land in a small airport a couple of miles west from an even smaller town. It was were I trained all of the future henchmen the supervillians and crime lords sent here, it also served as my base of operations for my mercenary missions.
"So, I assume you want something with me, otherwise you would have already attempted to kill. So, what is it."
"It's simple really. I just want all of the information you've gathered on the heroes you've tried to defeat"
"Well that's not something I just give away freely." Prometheus says as he opens he briefcase unveiling a helmet and some sort of a night stick. He puts the helmet on and grabs the nightstick.
"I wasn't expecting you to." I say as I draw my katana.
"So, if you defeat me you get all of the info you want. If I win, I kill you and take my leave, seem fair to you."
"I wouldn't have it any other way"
We charge at each other. His technique is excellent but I can tell it isn't his own. If this is any indication, there are going to be some challenges when I finally get all of the information I want.
Surprisingly the adamantium blade doesn't cut through his weapon. We test each other for a couple of minutes, then we start to get seriuos.
His nightstick hit's my energy sheild and forces me back a few feet. I slash at him but he ducks. He tries to hit me in the back of the head. I catch his weapon in one hand and disarm him. He knees me in the stomach and forces my sword out of my hand.
I try everything in my arsenal. Moves taken from elektra, spider-man and captain america, he always has a counter. I've never faced someone like this, an equal.
"Well, this has been a lot of fun but I think it's time to bring this to an end"
I roll past him and pick up his weapon. I smash it into his face and it cracks his helmet. As he falls back I throw two knives into his feet. I wasn't able to see him pick up my katana. I stomp on one of the knives and hear in crack the concrete beneath us. He suprises me and hits me with the hilt of my sword. He then throws it, it goes through my leg and into the wall. He gets some throwing stars out of his belt. I shoot them out of the air and point my gun at him.
"So, you ready to give me that information I wanted?"
It all happened so fast.
The last moment I remember before it began was looking at the stars.But they weren't real.They were apart of some sort of holographic setting that was built above my crib.I loved it.
And then...My mother and father come in.My mother carries a crimson blanket,one of which I seem to recognise.And then...it fills my eyes,as I'm wrapped into it.
When I regain my sight,I'm in some sort of capsule.Technology is buzzing around me,as the world above me seems to be...crumbling.I'm in some sort of...ship.
"Never forget,My little Kal-El...You shall never be alone.No matter where you travel,no matter how unloved you feel,always remember,My son...that you will never be alone."
My father's words sink themselves into my brain as the capsule closes,shutting me off from my devastated parents.I don't know what's happening...but somehow,I realise that I'm never going to see them again.
And then...a bright light...A loud sound...Almost piercing the barrier around me...
Suddenly,I see the stars,again.Only it isn't a hologram.It's real.Very real.Almost...devastatingly real.And then,as the light dims,I start to think something that my father told me not to think.
I am alone.
I wake up to the sound of my alarm clock.I turn over,and don't even bother to hit the button.Instead...
The clock breaks under my fist.Not the brightest solution for de-activating a clock,mind you...but...I'm in a hurry.I put on my glasses,and look out the window,noticing the sunrise.
Goodbye Smallville.Hello Metropolis.
For once,my life seems to be in order.I just got a job.And not just any job.No...definatley not just any job...
I can see it,even from the train I'm taking into the city...Which is a good ten blocks away.It probably wasn't wise to take the train...but...the traffic in this city definatley wasn't going to help my situation.
Mr.White's not going to like my tardiness...
I should've flew.No...I can't.I have to remember not to be tempted to do so.Not yet,anyway.Not until the timing is right.
I hope it comes soon.I'm tired of playing the waiting game.
- - -
I get out of the elevator,and smell the scent of the newsroom.It's...well...it's definatley not the smell of a Kansas sunrise,but...It'll do.
As I set my hat and briefcase on my assigned desk,Immediatley I notice someone walking towards me.It's White's assistant.
I KNEW He wouldn't like my tardiness...
"Mr.White needs to see you."She says,walking past me,not even giving me a second glace.She seems to be preoccupied with something else.
Apparentally,It has to do with that 'Olsen' kid they have doing the photography.Or,at least,that's what my hearing picks up,as I make my way towards White's office.
"You...Um...wanted to see me,Mr.White?"
He turns around,a cigar lit in his mouth.It's not something I'd condone,but at least it's not cigarettes...I can't stand that smell.
"You're late."He says.
I stand up straight,trying to figure out what to say.I can't outright tell him I was late because of a memory about being sent here from another planet,of course.
"Y-Yes,I know Chief,but-"
"Don't call me Chief,Kent."He says,looking up at me,from looking at a stack of reports.
"Oh...I...uh...Sorry,Ch-Mr.White,I mean.Anyway,I apologise for being late,but...you see,traffic was-"
"Nevermind that.I've got an assignment for you.You'll be one of a three person team.Think you can handle that?"He asks.
"An assignment?This early?I...don't know what to say...I.."
"Well make it quick,Kent.We have a schedule to keep here."He says,as His assistant comes in.
"Perry,I've been looking for that damned kid all morning.He still hasn't shown up."She says,somewhat annoyed.
"Calm down.You know Olsen.Never on time,that boy..."White says,almost as if he's used to it.
"Well I've had it.I'm tired of spending my mornings looking for someone who's never even here.Either he goes,Perry,or I go."She says,angrily.
Apparently,Olsen isn't very liked around here.A shame,too.He seemed like a nice kid,when I met him the other day...
"I'll deal with it.Now,look,I-"
At that moment,Olsen practically stumbles into the office,carrying a box of photos.They go flying.
I,not really thinking at the moment,catch them all in a split second.It's only after I've done it that I realise I almost blew my cover.But,much to my relief,White and his assistant were too focused on Olsen to really notice.
"Olsen,Where the hell have you been?"Perry asks,angrily.
Olsen looks up at him,dusting himself off in the process.
"I was getting the shots of the LuthorCorp construction site that you asked."Olsen says,honestly.
Both he and I can tell that White forgot about it,from his reaction.
"Well...Nevermind that.You two are going to the actual opening tommorow morning."
I widen my eyes.I didn't expect to get this far on my second day.I guess my resume really impres-
"All of our other reporters were booked,So that left you,Olsen,and your new partner,who,as usual,is LATE."
Perry smirks,somewhat,as I hear the door open behind me.
"Ah,there she is.About time,Lane."He says.
Oh nh nonono...Not her.Anyone but her.Please don't let it be her...
I turn around.And...sure enough,it's her.
Top reporter,sure...Even somewhat attractive...But also extremely competitive,moody,and notoriously arrogant.
Well...that's just great.Every male reporter's worst nightmare is my first partner.
This should definatley be interesting...
Everyone always counted out Klaus Voorhees. But look at me now.
I've always been trouble. But I've always been lucky. back home, everything was tame. My only escape from the peace was psychadelic drugs, and you know something? They don't hurt as many people as I would have liked. Everyone is so dumb back there. They think they know. They think that they know everything. I don't know anything; That's why I'm so smart.
They'l never catch me. Nobody can. I'm faster than everybody. Yes, everybody. Just yesterday, I figured out what I could do with this: Take it and run. And I ran. I'm still running. There's someone out there who needs a lesson. And I think I'm just the man to administer the euthanasia.
Young Billy Batson desperately raced his way to the park. He darted along the roadside passing people as he made his way there. He raced across the busy road just missing several cars.
He reached the parks entrance and sprinted down the path until he reached the old decrepit part. The swings and see-saws were rotten. He checked carefully to see if he was alone and out of sight. When he was certain, he looked up into the sky and razed his hand, stretching up to the sky.
Billy Shouted into the sky. The white clouds above combined together and turned a slight grey. The park swings began to shake from side to side violently. From out the dim clouds a lightening bolt shot down and struck the young boy.
Billy was gone…the boy had become a man. Captain Marvel arose from the ground, he held his hand in front of his eyes and clenched fist tight.
“No time to wait” he said to himself. His feet dragged up from the ground and he floated just above the floor slightly. He lowered his hand and darted up into the sky.
I sit up in a shock. Mr. Heston stands over me.
"Good morning Mr. Parker. Did you sleep well?"
"Oh, quite well. I'm feeling totally refreshed and ready to face the day and you're not in the mood for jokes right now are you?"
He leans in close to whisper in my ear.
"Mr. Parker, I am dreadfully sorry abour your uncle's death. But that gives you no excuse for misbehavior in my class. Consider this a friendly warning."
He gets up and continues with the lesson. Flash Thompson leans over to me.
"Nice going, spaz."
"You heard me. I'll give ya' one hundred for the lot of 'em."
I slam the pictures down on his desk.
"Jameson, this isn't fair. These are quality pics."
"They're mediocre at best."
"That's crap and you know it. The best picture of Daredevil anyone on your staff or in the entire city has gotten is a blurry red fist knocking a guy's teeth out. You can count the number of goddamn notches on his belt in these pics!"
"Kid, I'm the editor in cheif of a major newspaper. You, my short friend, are a fifteen year old freelance photographer. At your age, you're lucky that anyone's willing to even look at your pictures. I'll give you one hundred and that's final."
I lean in.
"Jonah, who was the one who got the currently famous picture of Spiderman for the Bugle? Me. Most photographers can only get pictures where you're only partially certain as to weather it's really a psycho crime fighter in a mask or a friggin' baloon. And those are just on the good days. The only other photographer in the city to get good pictures of the marvels...."
"That's what everyone's been calling them."
"They're vigilantes. 'Marvels' is far too complimentary."
"Whatever. The only other guy in the city to get good photos of these guys is Phil Sheldon, and we both know that he's been taking more jobs from the times than from you lately. If you don't start respecting me, I might just start taking my buisness elsewhere."
He takes a puff of his cigar.
"I'll give you one hundred and fifty."
We stare at each other for a few minutes. Then, I just turn to the door and walk out saying "fine".
As I walk to the exit, I see Ben Urich rush into J.J.'s office. I walk to the door and, being the enquisitive guy I am, listen in.
"Ben, what is it?"
"Jonah, some guy wearing a quilt on his head robbed a bank earlyer this morning. The cops are all over him and he's got hostages."
With that, I run to the exit, go outside, find a dark alleyway, and go into hero mode.
Five minutes later, I make my way to the bank. Cops are all over the place. I can see the quilt guy (my god he looks stupider than me) inside with the hostages. Being as sneaky as I can (and I can be pretty damn sneaky), I make my wat past the barricade and climb into the bank through a window. Being vewy vewy quiet, I make my way to where the hostages are being held. The quilt guy is yelling out the door.
"YOU COPS BETTER LET ME PAST, OR I'M GONNA BLOW SOME *****'S ****ING HEAD OFF!!!!"
Wait. Dude. You're in public. Change your voice.
"Now, that's not very nice."
"Who the **** are you?"
"I'm Spiderman. Who're you supposed to be. Captain Quilt?"
He raises his fist and points it at me. The air ripples around the weird metal bit on his glove, there's a big boom sound, and I get knocked back on my ass by what feels like an invisible truck.
"The guys in the pen called me Shocker."
I crash into the back wall. I then fall to the ground. Shocker turns to one of the hostages.
"Since when do the male hookers in this town work for the cops?"
I get up (dizzy as hell) and walk over to Shocker.
"You know, in the past few weeks I've been called a gay gaurdian angel and a male prostitute. Now, there ain't anything wrong with the gays, the gaurdian angels are decent folk, and prostitutes provide a valuable service to the hopeless virgins of the comunity. But still, I find it somewhat insulting that you judge me as such based on my apearance. I mean, haven't you ever seen a crime fighter in an almost flamboiantly colorful costume before?"
"Yes. On saturday morning cartoons. Please die now."
He fires that sonic cannon thingy at me again. I jump out of the way of the major part of the blast (although my ears are still ringing from the noise) and web up his hands. He tries to blast the webs off, but screams as his hands get some of the force of the blast. I then punch him across the jaw, web him up, and throw him out to the cops. I turn to the hostages.
"Well, that was certainly fun. Some nice superheroics on my part right there, if I do say so myself."
They all stare at me.
"Well, I think a thank you might be...."
I hear the cops running up to the door.
I run to the wondow, and jump out. I then peek my head back in.
I jump up onto the nearby rooftops, shoot out a webline, and start swinging.
That didn't go as bad as I thought it would. I mean, I'm not dead.
What can I say about myself........nobody knows me. Hell I dont know me. I dont remember much, cept pain, anger, and just about all the stuff ya dont wana remember. I dont remember my life, my actual life, only thing I do remember is my carrier, my job. I'm a killer. Im trained, efficent, and calculating........but when......I lose it, none of that seems to matter. Cuz when I lose it..........I aint me........I aint even human, or mutant, or whatever title ya wana give it........, no I'm just........animal. Its been that way for a long time. I "woke up" in the cold, in the snow, in Alaska. I was found by a man that promised I could trust him, but he just wanted what they all did.........a weapon. His name was James Hudson, Leader of Alpha Flight. He and his wife took me in. I didnt rember anything then, not my name, not my history, not even what was buried beneath my own skin. But we found, and when we did, I stoped being his charity project, and became his science project. He wanted to recruit me, make me a member of his "team". Funny........I dont remember working as a "team" at all.........no maybe as partners, but not with him. There was one guy.........one guy on the team, one guy who understood. We worked together. Hell you couldnt have found a better pair. Ruthless, cunning, efficent, deadly, and powerfull. I wouldnt say he was a friend, necisarily, but I guess he was the best friend I ever had.........which realy.........is kinda sad. Strange thing is......we hated each other, but we understood each other. We knew what it was like to lose ourselves in battle. To lose control. Even more than that, we came to trust each other. But man was he jealous. He had been with the team for years, and me, I was Johnny newby, straight out a the gate. But within weeks I could hear what the others were saying behind our backs, "The new guys twice the fighter Creed is!", "Creed's just a poor mans Wolverine!", "Creed just the made in China version!". I heard em' all, even through the walls, bad thing is..........so did he. I came back to base one day, Heather and I had gone out for drinks, we opened the doors.................blood everywhere. Mangeled bodys of soilders, and team members. "Who could have done this?" I asked myself. Around the corner a figure walked out, in his hand, he was dragin James, Heather screamed. "Now they know better!" Creed said so calmy. "We can leave this place now runt, start our own op. Make loads of dough! Just hand over the frail and there wont be no witnesses!" He had killed everyone, eveyone but me. Why not me? Was it cuz he trusted me? Was it cuz he liked me? Was it cuz he understood me? Or was he just out of his ****in mind? Whatever the reason, he had never tried to fight me, but all that was about to change. I poped those claws quik, an sank em deep in his chest, we fought for hours, shreding each other apart, tearing flesh from bone. In many ways the fighting never stoped, it feals like the battle keeps going every day. But after those few hours, when I finaly woke up covered in my own blood, or his, couldnt tell, I knew I would have to leave the "team". James held me responsable, thought I was in on it, Heather didnt say much, but We had to thrown down, in the end he pased out, and I walked away. Later I hooked up with some guys that promised they could help. They promised that I would be accepted, and that life could have meaning again. For the most part they kept thier end. But there were certain thing, that I just had to find out for myself. So now I'm on the road. I left the mansion four days ago and headed south west. "Deep in the heart of Texas." Deep in the desert. I come up the dirt, or dust road finaly seeing the cabin I been lookin for. I park the bike out front. In front of my bike lyes some dumb schmuck whom I'm guessin lost his way, or his will to live, an on the porch, sittin in a beat up ol' rockin chair, covered in blood, holdin a knife in one hand, and a brew in the other, sat the bigest, uglyest,meanest S.O.B. I ever met. And just cuz we werent tearin through each other didnt mean the battle had ended, it just meant that we hated wastin time, and drenchin each other in our own blood for the ten thousandth time.
Got another brew?
Nope.......the battles far from over.
I walked into the East End, in make-up and disquise, ready for just about anything.
The East End, as a wise place once said, "you would never find a place filled with such scum and villiany," or something like that.
I know this fact by heart. It was in an alley that connected the East End to the rest of Gotham where my parents were murdered. It was also the first place where I started my training, finding a nomanic man who called himself Stick.
I found a newspaper-vendor, two people near it, one an older man probably close to his fifties, the other a young kid leaning on a fire hydrent. Rain starts to drop across the ground and the two continue in animate conversation as I buy a paper off of the vendor.
"Hey, it's rainin'. Lend me your cap, man, I'm gettin' wet," the kid said.
"No chance." The vendor replied, "I don't lend things. It's my philosophy." The kid says something else, something about a "jive-ass" before the vendor continued. "In this world, you shouldn't rely on help from anybody. In the end, a man stands alone. All alone. In a final analysis."
I couldn't help but agree.
I looked across the East End, amazed how dirtier and sleazier it's gotten since I left. There's blazing neon signs everywhere of sex, prostitues are scattered all over. The only thing that seemed to be more prominant then that is the drugs. Junkies lay in piles of themselves in the alleys, and I could have swore I saw a man walk past me with a joint hanging off his lips. Hustlers and pimps stand and drive and kill all over, the ones I walk past sizing me up like a piece of meat. I'm interrupted by a voice behind me.
"Cheer you up?" I look to my size and see a young girl standing next to me, at least 13, wearing clothing that I haven't even seen most of these prostitutes wear.
"I doubt it. How old are you?"
"Young as you want me to be, mister. Want me to do something for you?"
"Actually, yes. Get out of here and stop selling yourself like this." I could have sworn I saw something of understanding in her eyes when I'm pushed aside as a portly man smelling of marajuna and fornication starts drukenly walking towards the girl.
"Heey there, preety gentl--gen...laady, caare for some...f--f--"
"I get ya, but," she glances at me for a second, "I'm talking to someone right at the moment."
"Whaat, a poten--tentu--customer?" He turns to me, trying to look threatening. Frankly, his breath seems is the only thing about him that's deadly. "Look-y-see, f**ker, am-scrway. This laady doon't want soome sillly loookin' f*g foor the eveenin'." I stare at him, somewhat dumbfounded seeing this kind of scum up-close. "Whaat, you den--dense or sommethin'? Yoou a f**kin' reetard or somme s**t?"
"No. Actually, I'm debating whether I should hurt you or not."
"Hurt me?" He laughs, stops, looking like he's trying to choke back vomit, and continued. "Yoou don't knoow who tha' f**k Ah aam? Ah'm Goodaamn Malone! Ah coould crussh yoou liike a-a graape, dip-s**t!"
"I doubt it. All bark and no bite."
"Ooh, Ah biite!" He lunges for me. I honestly don't want to hurt him too much (he's kind-of pathetic, actually), so I simply throw a quick jab to the face. He drops like a brick and lands on stacked bags of garbage. I put my boot on his neck, keeping him down.
"Sit down with the rest of your kin."
Jim Gordon and Arnold Flass drive in their squad car to the East End, out to pick up their shares.
Flass' shares, anyway. Gordon, at the beginning of his career in the GCPD, was adament in not accepting the white envelope full of dirty money. By the end of his first year, after shoving the envelopes through the door of his apartment and threatening to hurt his wife, Gordon just started to take it. The only thing that let him sleep at night was that he gave the money to shelters and donations.
They stop at a pimp leaning against the wall of one of the many strip-clubs that are scattered across this side of the city. The pimp lifts himself off the wall and walks over to the car, pulling yet another envelope of money out of his overcoat and passing it over to Flass.
"Consider it a late Christmas present, Flass," the pimp said. Flass practically rips it out of the pimp's hand, looks through the money, then puts a stack on Gordon's lap. He remembers which shelter he did last time, pulled the next one out of his mental list and put the money in his pocket.
Suddenly, there's a large racket in the alley next to them. Gordon almost hears a cold voice mutter something, but definately heard the hoarse, slurred yell from another afterward.
"Skeevers! Thiis mootheerf**keer aafter me! Kiick hiis f**kin' aass!"
"Excuse me for a moment," Skeevers said, walked across the car and into the alley next to us.
"Malone! What the f**k you talking about?" I turned and saw the man standing before the alley. He notices the girl and walks over to her. "Holly, the f**k are you doing?"
"I-I was talking to the guy and then Malone came out and next thing you know--BIFF, here we are," she replied.
"Whatever, we'll talk later, get back to your spot," the man replies, pushing her out and smacking her in a place he has no right to slap.
"No she isn't," I called out, putting one hand on the back of the man's head, the other grabbing hold of the girl who's name is apparently Holly's shoulder.
"Man, apparently your New Year's resolution was to die," the man said, pulling a switchblade out of his pocket. "Now get your hands off my property, so that I can shank you properly."
I call his bluff, and grab his knife-wielding hand as it flinched to action. I twist and revel in his scream. I take my other hand off Holly's shoulder and push the man back to the wall. I look at Holly and before I can even tell her to, she runs off. I walk back to the man and crack my knuckles.
"I'll try not to enjoy this."
As the two ran into the alley after hearing the scream, Jim Gordon witnessed the most spectacular beating he had ever seen in his life.
Skeevers, who practically learned how to operate a blade before he even learned to speak, was being man-handled by a man. The man kicks him in the face and then gives a hard elbow right to the bridge of his nose.
The man, though his features seem kind-of familiar, and his movement feels espicially familiar. Bruce...?
"Freeze, GCPD!" Flass yelled out, unholstering his piece. Not even allowing the perp to raise his hands, Flass shoots out two slugs, knocking the man off his feet, crashing into the dirty, possibly contaminated, pavement. Flass moved farther, standing at the man's leg, aiming for the head.
"Flass, don't!" Gordon yelled out, pushing the gun away. Flass takes his elbow and bashes Gordon in the face, landing on the wall next to Skeevers.
That gave the perp enough time to spring an attack. He uses Flass' footing against him and kicks him in the groin. Flass gasps in pain, dropping his gun, lowering to his knees and putting both his hands on the injured area. The man kicks himself up, grabs Flass' gun, pistolwhips him with it, knocking Flass completely to the pavement. By the time that Gordon recovered and got his Automatic out of its holster, the man was no longer there.
Holding his head, trying to get the cobwebs out of his head, Gordon went back to the squad car and got on the radio.
"GCPD, this is Leutendent Gordon, squad-car 338. Need medical vehicles at Finger Ave., East End."
"Copy, Leutendent, what happened?" Gordon thought for a second, what should he say? He decides, knowing that Loeb won't like it when he hears it.
"Just picked up a particularly nasty pimp, better bring Vice with you."
He slumps back into the seat, waiting for the cops and emergency vehicles to get here. The moves, the name...he remembered who Bruce Wayne was. He'll have to visit him sometime...
I fall into the dark tunnel, screaming the whole way...
I crash onto the pavement of the garage at Wayne Manor, grunting in pain at the impact.
I look at my leg, a bone looking funny on the skin, almost tearing it.
I open up my jacket, looking at two large blood stains, both near my right shoulder, too close to the lung for them not to be affected.
I look around in the dark cavern, shivering in both fright and at the cold. I remember Mom saying something once about Hell, and I know that's where I am. I'm in Hell.
I eventually make it into the study, sitting in the seat where my father's guests would. My father would look over business dealings and manners at the Clinic. My father made deals and kept a place that saved lives going, and here I am, the unworthy successor, the only successor, sitting with two bullets in him, not being able to stop one of the monsters that took him and mother away.
I have failed.
I looked up, the hole I fell in seemingly so far away. Surely Mom and Dad saw? They were just there, they saw me fall. They're going to come and they're going to save me and things will be alright and I won't ever ever have to go back in here.
I should be better than this. I spent nine years travelling across the world. I have seen people do things I never thought possible, and than did them right alongside them. Then to die by a man with a gun before I could even do anything? I guess that is poetic justice.
I wonder why I'm in Hell. Haven't I been a good boy? I have been good to my parents, and when I yelled at them, I apologized right afterward. I've been nice to the other kids at school, I keep up on my grades. What did I do to deserve this?
This can't be all. I can't allow it to be all. I need to do...SOMETHING. Anything. I know I haven't done this for a long time, and I'm probably not even allowed there, but I prey, plead to my father, who I know is there (if there is a "there", how could they not?).
How do I do it, Father? What do I do? Please, answer me, I beg you...
Then, I see in the small light, something coming towards me. It flies, slowly flapping it's wings, the sound thuds across the walls. I realize what it is, too terrified to speak its name. I saw the movies that had them transform into evil blood-suckers. It is evil.
Then something crashes through the window, somehow destroying the whole window. It flaps across the room, somehow unaffected by the breaking glass.
It lands on a boulder next to me, unnaturaly large, it's face fully exposed. It's mouth was sharp, fanged, drenched in the blood of it's prey. It's point out, hearing my breaths, my movement, my thoughts, my soul. But the thing about it that holds onto me is its eyes. They're mostly white, with only the pupils showing, no color, just the jet black.
It lands on the headboard of my father's chair, staring straight at me. The mouth, the teeth, the EYES...all so much like the day when I first...when I first saw it when I was only six.
It roars, its wings lifting up, reminding me of the necklace that Mom wears all the time, with the man on the wood panels hanging on them. Then, I felt...calm, with its roar, with its eyes staring at me, boaring right into my soul.
I feel something...escape out of me, with something else coming in, almost filling the thing that escaped...almost. As though the thing...the BAT...took a part of me away...only to replace it with its own...
I realize what I must do. I thank my Father, for showing me the way. I said this before passing into the dark...
"I shall become...a BAT."
A warm breeze blankets the beaches of Genosha. The sun slowly sets in the horizon, giving off a faint pink light that catches your eye from any angle. Magnus stands alone atop his hillside palace balcony, lost in thought.
He turns away from the scenary.
"...But it is not enough."
Magneto uses his electromagnetic field to pull himself off the stone marble floor. He flies out over the ocean, oblivious to the rest of the world.
"They expect Mutantkind to be locked away in this closet forever? All they see us as is humanity's dirty little secret, another 'problem' with the world. These degenerates put the Mutant gene on par with cancer and AIDS!
Those are real problems. Bas***d's.
They will see the true destiny of this world.
And then they will hand it over to its rightful heirs.
Magnus continues to fly aimlessly over the ocean as the sun goes down.
Location: The Blue Side of the Moon
SYSTEMS CHECK - POWER 100%
- WEAPONS 100%
- SURVEILLANCE 100%
The door slides open without a sound, and the lone occupant steps inside, the doors closing again, soundless behind it. There is no artificial atmosphere here, no life support systems. None are needed, and airlessness deters invasions by organic lifeforms quite well.
It steps across the cold metal floor purposefully, heading towards the command deck ahead. Neither of his partners are present at the moment, but that does not bother Ultron. He does not need them to do what he intends to do now.
"Initiate phase one," his metallic, echoing voice drones to the machines inside. He speaks directly to them, not over the air, as there is no need to do so.
Braniac had developed this, considering his extra-terrestrial origins, but it is Ultron now who will test it, being the scientist of the Triumvirate.
Across the globe, centered in areas of superhuman activity, attack drones are situated. Upon this command, they will activate, and draw the superhumans out through violent means. They are not intended however, to actually kill any superhumans, though if they do it is entirely a bonus. They are recording devices, routing through several side servers and satellites an untraceable signal to this fortress. Simply put, it's to gauge the power, the strength and the resourcefulness of a planet's defenses. Even though Ultron was manufactured of this planet, he does not know all of it, and this will help him to determine what he and his companions are up against.
I thought I'd have more time out here to myself, but he's found me sooner than I thought he would. I knew he'd find me eventually, he's the only one who can find me, and the only one that tries. I could smell him before I saw him, you just don't forget his kind of stink, especially if you've had as many run-ins with him as me. He's still tryin to be the lone wolf, when I know he's just a weak little pup, with a motorcycle fetish. Haven't seen his sorry face in a year. Meetings with him are always.....interesting.
He rides up the dirt road and I see him look around. He eyes the s.o.b. with the vulture peckin out his kindeys and shakes his head in that "It figures" sort of way. He parks his bike next to him and walks toward me. I wonder if maybe I should get this little party started with the knife in my hand. No. I'll let him tell me what he's doin here. Then we'll get the party goin.
Got another Brew?
He walks through the hole in the screen door and opens the fridge. I hear the can open and his footsteps coming back toward the door. This time he opens it, walks out, and leans against the side of the cabin just across from me. Im already wiping the blood off of my shoulder, where the gash from the knife had been before it healed.
So what're you doin here? I got a little offended when ya didn't send me a Christmas card.
Don't blame me its the god damn US Postal Service. Me, I just came down to see if maybe you've found Jesus.
(Sabretooth points to a corpse nailed to the tree)
Well I guess walkin on water just aint enough.
I'm pretty sure you ain't peddlin bibles, so why the **** are you here?
Really thought you knew me better, what's the only reason I stare at yer smiling face instead of tearin it off? I'm lookin for answers, bub.
I got a few answers, (Sabretooth looks down at the knife and smiles) but I don't think they're the ones yer lookin for. Besides do I look like the kind of guy that would sit beside Xavier's crippled, cubeball ass and hold yer hand while teaching world literature?
No, you seem more like the pedophile gym teacher who goes after the little boys in the locker room.
Well then I'm sure Cyclops would be thrilled.
(Sabretooth tosses the knife at Wolverine. It misses and sticks in the wall next to his head.)
Nah, I'd be more likely to be tearin up the insides of them little red headed chippies you like so much. It'd be like a shredded ROSEgarden.
Nevermind....So what errand do the boy scouts got ya running now? You aint here to sell me cookies are ya.
Nevermind....So what errand do the boy scouts got ya running now? You aint here to sell me cookies are ya.
Well we're all outa macaroones, but how about a hole batch of why didnt ya go after me in the Alpha flight HQ?
You heard me. You killed almost everyone there, exept the one guy you were jealous of. Why?
Jealous? Of you runt? They teachin humor at that school now? I didnt have that much fun cuz I was jealous of you, I did it cuz I always wanted to hear them squeal like pigs!
I didnt ask why you killed them, I asked why you didnt try to kill me!
Honestly? I just wanted someone as good at killin as me to tag along, make some scratch, but seein as how there aint no one as good as me I figured I'd settle for second best. Your a killer runt, jus like me.
I aint nothin like you Creed! And I dont buy a damn bit ah that crap! You didnt spare me cuz ya wanted help, you did it cuz ya knew somethin! Somethin I didnt.
Thats it................you tracked me aaaaaaall the way down here, cuz you had a hunch that I was holdin back? What is this womens intuition?
Heh, guess thiers no foolin ya. You got answers, answers I want and need, all inside them files ya stole!
Files? Now what on earth could you be talkin about?
Im talkin about that heist ya did for S.H.I.E.L.D.! Ya know, that little bargan ya made with em', I scratch your back, you leave me the **** alone! Aint that right sunshine? You got tird of runnin from thier lap dogs, so you went an made a deal with devil. But when you saw what you were after, ya just could help but to shave a little off the top.
An whats it to you if I pissed off Uncle Sam?
The files were coded weren't they?
Well they aint doin you no good coded, cant make money off crap ya cant read, not that you could read.......
Get to the point shrimp, when do you get off in all of this?
.........Those files got some information about me in em', information I NEED! Now I got friends that can pop the lock on these suckers in a heart beat, but I'm gona need your cooperation.
My wha....? You gone soft on me ol' boy?
Naw, I just figured it save us from gettin blood all over these files after me thrown you around your shack here like a rubber ball!
So leme get this striaght, you, want me, to give you these things and just trust you to bring em' back?
Naw, yur ridin with me sport.
Maybe you like havin dead weight stashed away.
...............hmmmmm, fine, but you cross me, an I'll slit the throaght of every X-chipie I can find!
Well.........start with Scott, I never liked her anyway.
Hahahaha, maybe for yur birthday.
So where are they?
The files dip****! Pay attention!
Freezer....(takes a drink of beer)
In the freezer?
Ya just look under the Ice cube tray.
You pullin my chain?
Not enough to pull, check the freezer.
I walk back into the Log-Shack through the screen door, and open up the freezer. Nice, frozen tator tots, few fudge sicles, a frozen human head, .........and ah ice cube tray. Well I'll be a sonofa...........(sniff)..........GUNPOWDER!
LOGAN! GET OUT HERE! I'M REALY HOPIN THESE AINT FRIENDS A YOURS! CUZ IF THEY ARE THOSE FILES ARE GONA ROAST ALONG WITH ALL A YA!
Oh **** what now?
"Dr. Crane I have here in my hands numerous statments from students about your experiments"
Dr. Johnathan Crane got a message earlier that day to meet in the confrence room to discuss the future of his job.
"... firing guns off near students' heads..."
Dr. Crane was head of the psychology department of Gotham University. He perfromed some experiments that the university seemed unethical.
"...locking students in closets with rats, spiders,centipedes,and various other creatures...."
He loved fear. He loved how people reacted to it. He loved what fear did the human mind.
"...and brandish knives and other blades infront of students' faces. Me and the other members of the psychology department have agreed upon for your immediate termination."
Crane jumped out of his seat filled with anger. What! You can't do this to me, you can't stop my work!"
"Dr. Crane you have left a stain on this university that I'm afraid that can not be erased now we already have picked your replacement."
"Dean Wilson, hear me out..."
"Crane get out of my sight and out of my school before I have to call security" yelled the dean
Dr. Crane looked at each person at the room and stormed out of there. He went into his office to collect his notes. They can't stop my work he thought to himself. Dean Wilson and his idiotic group could not grasp his ideas and dreams. He will not let them crush his dreams. Dean Wilson and the morons that call themselves professors have just became new particpiants in his greatest experiment yet.
Later that night at the house of Dean Wilson at party was going on for the new head of psychology.
Dean Wilson got out of his chair and begain to speak "I would like to congratulate Dr. Tom Harrison on his new position of the head of psychology at Gotham University" applause came from the other members of the psychology department
"now Tom I would like you to meet Misty" a stripper came out of the closet and started to dance but was interrupted by a knock at the door. Dean Wilson went to the door and opened it and there stood a man holding a package.
"Dean Richard Wilson?" ask the package man
"Yes thats me"
"This is for you could you just sign right here" the dean signed and took the package back to living room.
"What is it Rich" asked one of the professors
"I don't know" he opened and a note fell out. "Theres nothing to fear but fear itself" a gas came from the box and engulfed everyone one in the room. Everybody started to scream and act hysterical. Rats came out of the vents, large sized spiders came from underneath the couch, and Dean Wilson's dead grandmother was siting right next to him.
The lights went out and a tall figure stood in the door wearing a large brim hat. Raising what appeared to be a scthye he stabbed someone. He raised it again and stabbed another person. He made his way over to Dean Wilson and picked up a bottle of wine that was on the table.
"Good year" and the person splashed it all over Dean Wilson' face. He took out a lighter and turned it on and the dean say what was doing this carnage, a scarecrow. The scarecrow ignigted the lighter "I'm a scarecrow shouldn't I be afraid of fire". He took off his mask but Dean Wilson didn't see a face, he saw a flaming skull.
"Look at the face of your destroyer!" and he threw the lighter onto Dean Wilson who erupted into flames. After a few minutes the scarecrow put out the fire he did not all his work ruined. He went over to the other people on the ground screaming and shaking and dispatch them until there were two left his replacment and the stripper.
He dragged them both out to the front lawn and pulled them out into the front lawn. Dean Wilson's house was on top of a hill far away from any neighbors. The scarecrow pass the body of the delivery man and stoped.
"Now I have a question how many people does it take to deliver a message?" The two people just screamed. "Wrong answer, just one" he took out a gun a shot his replacement in the head. He turned his backed on the stripper, who was still screaming because she could see her former pimp who turned into a lizard trying to get her.
"You tell them that the Scarecrow is now in Gotham". He looked over to the lights of Gotham and imagined all the people screaming and fearing him. He walked into the woods and he could hear was the stripper crying and whimpering scarecrow.
Alan Fagan sent his regards. A bunch of goons for hire, outfitted with stuff he stole from Leland Owlsley. Claws. I like it.
Damn, I've just turned into my favorite person ever. Stuff it, Dillinger, you've been replaced!
I'm untouchable. Unknowable. Klaus Voorhees was a chump. King Cobra changed all that. I've got a distinct advantage over everyone else; I'm not crazy. I'm perfectly in control. I've got Mr. Fear on speed-dial, and a bunch of taloned henchmen; I'm sure most people with that would be a little nutty. No. I'm in control. And soon, I'll have control over the city. I'm not vain. I'm not arrogant. I'm just bad. So bad, I shot a man in Reno just to watch him die. I'm thinking of running Owlsey out of business. But, i hear he's tougher than anybody gives him credit for. We'll see.
Scarecrow emerges from the woods and out to where a car is parked. He opens up the the trunk and places the scythe in there and begins to disrobe his costume. Crane puts the costume in the trunk and the mask in his pocket. He drives back to the city. He passes a cornfield and it begins to rain and thats when the flashbacks started....
"Scarecrow, Scarecrow,Scarecrow" all the kids chanted as eight year old Johnathan Crane laid in mud.
"Come on get up Scarecrow" one of the bullies says. Crane slowly gets up and is pushed back into the mud. "HAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAH.....
AHHHHHHHHH!" It's ten years later at the senior prom the bully and his girlfriend are screaming as they are heading straight for a person in the middle of the road holding a gun. He dodges the person but the car goes off the road. The person slowly walks toward the wreckage. He looks down and the girlfriend is very bloody and looks dead. The bully looks up and sees what was standing in the road, a scarecrow. He tries to scream but he can't. He can't moved anything just stare at his new nightmare. The scarecrow walks away back into the darkness.
Crane snaps out of his trance and he is in the middle of the field wearing his mask. He hears footsteps, its the farmer.
"Who's here? I've got my 12 gauge". The farmer heads to where Scarecrow is. Closer and closer to his fate. The farmer enters the location of Scarecrow and he extends his arm out. A gas comes out and hits the farmer in the face. The farmer starts to scream. He sees that all his corn is on fire and he can't get out but what's in front of him is much worst. A creature with flaming eyes and he was breathing fire.
"Whats a matter Farmer Brown scared?" He farmer tried to raise his gun at the creature but couldn't. "Turn the gun around Farmer Brown, it's the only way out". The farmer couldn't stand the creature voice it sounded like some sort of demon. The flames were closing in there was only one way out he did what the creature told him to do. He turned his shotgun around and fired.
Scarecrow walked out of the cornfield and backed to his car. He stopped and looked at the lights of Gotham. He imagied Gotham being swallowed up by some sort of black hole where there was fear everlasting. Everyone would fear him. They would do what he said. He got back into his car and drove away. The reign of fear is going to infest Gotham and there would be no one to push Crane around and there will be no one to stop SCARECROW.
"Come HERE you INSECT!!!!"
I dodge his arm tentacle whatever thing. It smashes into some crates and I land on my feat.
"1: Spiders are arachnids 2: No I will not if you're going to keep up this "kill Spider-Man" aditude of yours."
A tentacle shoots at me. I jump over it, but two more criss cross at me, and a thirt grabs me around the throat. I grasp at it with my hands and try to free myself. He pulls me closer to him.
"Why do you fight me, boy? I'm simply trying to make the world a better place."
"Yeah *ACK* I'm....sure snapping that gaurd's.....neck made th...the world a MUCH bet.....ter place."
I kick up at his face, and jump away.
"But hey, for all we know he could have been the next Hitler."
" *sigh* No one understands my genius."
"Oh, you're breaking my heart."
I rush towards Ock. He launches his tentacles at me. I dodge two and web the other two up. Before he can free them, I give him a good punch to the face. He falls to the ground, unconscious.
Well, all in all I'd call that a job well done.
"Don't 'Aunt May' me. You said you'd be home over two houres ago."
I put my bag down and walk into the kitchen.
"Aunt May, I....there was this thing down town. Some crazy guy broke into a power plant and....."
"And I followed to get some pictures to sell to the Daily Bugle."
"Listen, I know we're having money problems. I've seen the bills and I've heard you talking on the phone. I have to help somehow...."
"Peter, our financial concerns are not worth you risking your life. You could have gotten killed."
"I know. I'm sorry."
"Peter.....go to your room and do your homework. We'll talk later."
I grab my bag and walk upstairs to my room. Once I get in there, I shut the door and drop the bag.
So, you've got your Aunt worried sick about you.
Some superhero you're turing out to be.
Fagan's a real mensch, but he's tough to ged rid of. He's been taking me on jobs, lately; Showing me how it's done these days. Eh. The old ways never failed me before, I can only hope they double don't fail me now. Someone pays you to kill a guy, eh... you go out, you kill him, make it look like an accident, or just don't leave any evidence. Have you seen some of these guys? Honest to god, some of them leave clues. Clues. What, they wanna get captured?
You know something? I feel like a dumbass. When I put on this costume for the first time, I thought I was the first person to do it. Where the hell have I been? God, will you look at some of these people? Damn, I went to High School with a few of these guys. They put on ******ed jumpsuits and make asses of themselves in public; My business is already a laughing stock. They hold grudges! What the hell good for business is that? Someone pisses you of, you kill 'em, first chance you get, there, no vendetta haunting you. God, am I the only one who sees all this?
First job. Gotta start small. I have a reputation to build, here.
Bank. Sizable. I think I can take it. I was a decent safecracer as a kid, I'm sure I can handle this again. Fagan's backing me up. Says there's a guy we should watch out for, but I didn't catch the name.
Way I see it, he goes in, the henches pop their claws, everybody drops, I clean the place out. Simple, right?
That's all I can think as we park in the reserved spot on the third floor of the parking garage right next to the old LexCorp Towers.I look over at Lois for the second time in,probably,fourty five minutes.
This was a mistake.But,that's what I get for not taking my own route here.
It started this morning.Lois,Jimmy,and I were all due to take the train upto LexCorp so we could cover the unvailing of the new Luthor-Fisk Tower stationed here in Metropolis.
I was perfectly fine with that,considering I take the train nearly everywhere since I moved here last week.Jimmy was fine with that,considering it would be faster.Lois...wasn't.
Despite it being the fastest way to get there,Lois insisted that she drive there,instead of the train with Jimmy and I.Apparentally she has a friend in Gotham City who was mugged on a train...so...she isn't comfortable with it.
Of course,that's what she says.I suspect she only wanted to do that because it would seperate us from her,allowing her to get the story for herself.Sorry,Lois...but this is a TEAM story.
So,instead of taking the train,I volunteered to go with her,much to her dismay.She hasn't spoken to me since.So...it's been a quiet ride.
Finally,after stepping out of the car,she says something.
"Can you believe it,Smallville?The traffic in this city is absolutely outrageous!" She yells,angrily,making her way to the elevators.
I trail behind,getting my notes ready.
I realise I'm speaking way too deep,despite this being my true voice.I decide to tone it down,a little.At the very least,It'll make me sound weaker than I actually am.I clear my throat.
"I..Uh...I mean...it wasn't that bad..."
She doesn't even look at me as we enter the elevator.
"Wasn't that bad?Are you out of your mind,Kent?If it weren't for all of the roadhogs in Metropolis,You and I would be sitting down with Lex Luthor and Wilson Fisk right now!The NERVE of some of those people..."
You know what?
I think I actually preferred the silence of the car-ride...
- - -
We're about a minute away from the presentation,and I can't find Lois or Jimmy.I've gotten interviews with some of the top officials from both Metropolis and New York,and their thoughts on the merger for the Luthor-Fisk Company...So...I feel somewhat proud of myself,for my first big story.
Then,out of nowhere,as the presentation starts,Lois appears behind me.She snuck up on me.How is that even possible?
"Where have you been?"I ask her.
She smirks,a little,and holds up her notepad.My eyes widen.She's already gotten a statement from Luthor.Everyone in the auditorium wanted that,and she,of all people,got it.I can't help but ask...
"Good journalism,Smallville.Maybe you should look it up."She responds,checking more of her notes.
And just what,exactly,is that supposed to mean?
As I get ready to ask her,the lights go dim.We all look up at the stage,as Lex Luthor himself walks out.
Everyone claps.I don't know why.Truthfully,even though he's pretty much the centerpiece of our story,I don't know much about what this man has done.I know he's rich...but...surely there's more to it than that.
"Thank you all for coming.For those few who don't know,My name is Lex Luthor.My...buisness partner,Wilson Fisk,couldn't be here today,however,He sends his best."He says.
Everyone claps again,in mention of Fisk's name.I've heard of Fisk.Apparentally,He's the Lex Luthor of New York.Fitting,for a buisness deal like this.I'm almost surprised no one from Gotham City joined in on this.Then again...Gotham's Lex Luthor,Bruce Wayne,did only return to the United States a few days ago.
I look at Luthor as the applause continues.There's something about this man that doesn't sit well with me.He's surprisingly calm,for someone who doesn't really give interviews.
"Our goal here,at Luthor-Fisk,is to bring a company that can provide powerful and meaningful results.As some of you know,our individual companies have specialised in industrial applications for the last ten years.When Fisk came to me for a merger,it seemed like a perfect opprotunity to combine our efforts,and...hopefully...make the world a more decent place."He says,sounding rather...confident,in his words.
I don't know what to make of them,so...I just clap along with the rest of the crowd,pretending I actually believe he can do what he says he can.But the truth of the matter is,I don't know.
The audience continues clapping...even to the point where the building is beginning to shake.
That's not applause.The building really IS shaking.My hearing starts to pick up some sort of...buzzing noise,coming from outside.I turn to the northern wall,and lower my glasses,just a few inches...so I can get a better view.Then,my x-ray vision starts to kick in.
Some sort of...craft,is heading this way.Men in masks are aboard it,carrying weapons.Either they're overdressed health inspectors...Or the people in here are in danger.I turn,to see if anyone else has noticed it.
No one.Not one notices the noise,or the shaking,as Luthor starts taking questions.What can I do?How can I warn these people?I clench my fists,in frustration.I can't warn them.
The craft,which resembles a floating tank over a craft,smashing through the wall.Everyone screams,in horror,as pieces of debris go flying.Luthor himself is rushed out by his security.That's...odd.It's as if he expected this to happen...
No time for that.There are people in danger.There has to be something I can do...
I look down at my shirt and tie,hesitant.There is something I can do.But...What if I'm found out?What If I've put too much into this disguise theory?What if...
The masked men start coming out,guns raised at the crowd.They start making demands that no one can hear over the sceaming.Not even me.
I can't worry about being found out now.I HAVE to do it.I'm the only one who can,at this point...considering the police in this city are nothing short of useless,it seems,from their reputation.
As some crowd members start fleeing...I duck into a nearby janitor's closet,right outside the auditorium.Not the best place to pull something like this off,mind you...but it'll do.
Am I really about to do this?
I hear the screams for help.I hear the innocent's in danger.I hear the men who need to be stopped.
The answer becomes more and more obvious,and now...The suit that Mom made for me seems more appropriate than ever.
I guess it's time I showed the world what I really am...
In the laboratory of the baxter building, a scientific genius unmatched by any other mortal on this earth calculates every possible flight plan for his outer space voyage...
"Finally...for months I have explored thousands of possible trajectories through space...and all of them have intersected with this strange anomaly. I greatly desire to find out what this phenomenon could be, but I can't risk the life of my crew. We will complete our task using the only path that will lead us to our destination without intersecting with this abnormality" Reed thought to himself.
"Very unfortunate for science though.....who knows what this strange occurance could mean for mankind. It could lead to a cure for cancer, or open up a world of unknown possibilities...or it could do something much worse. As a scientist I greatly yearn to know what secrets the galaxy holds...but I can't bring myself to risk others to satisfy my knowledge of the unkown" He said scribbling some more notes on his already packed chalk boards.
"....or maybe i'm just yearning to fill a void in my soul that should be filled with the love of a woman" He said looking around the large, dark, empty lab ".....like that Susan Storm.....but what would she see in a man like me?" Reeds head pushed away his heart and his thoughts quickly changed back to his welcoming distractions of science. "After all my careful planning, It's irrevocably time to set this plan into motion" He thought "I can finally schedule the launch..."