One Universe: Season IV IC Thread

[OneUniverseRPG]

This RPG is similar to almost all others on Superhero Hype boards, except in this continuity, both the Marvel and DC universes are merged as "One Universe".

This past year has been full of triumphs, failures, and turmoil.
A new Zoom has robbed Central City of it's speedy hero. But with Zoom defeated, Central City finally has a new guardian running it's streets, as a young man stepped up and took the first steps to fill the hole left by a legend. But with a new Flash came new villains, each deadlier than the last. In New York, a young webslinger fell deeper into the pull of an alien symbiote before breaking away, only for the symbiote to find a new, more dangerous host out for revenge. And young love enters his life as he and Batgirl reveal their identities to each other.

Dr. Doom attempted to attain ultimate godhood in a complex plan that included selling Kryptonian souls to Neron, unleashing his Amazo android against the League, and tricking the New God Metron. Only ragtag band brought together by Dr. Fate stood between Doom and the Source Wall. Together, Fate, the Hulk, the Human Torch, the Atom, and John Constatine were able to trap Doom within the Source Wall.

Young heroes banded together to take down Gotham's mutant slaving ring. Working with Batman and Wolverine, the team of Robin, Nightcrawler, Starfire, Kitty took down the Penguin's operation. After taking technology from Tony Stark, Amanda Waller of SHIELD had Hank Pym create the Vision android and is starting the Avengers Initiative in response to the Justice League. And Supergirl, trained by her cousin, came into her own as a hero during the mutant uprising where the Master of Magnetism called for all mutants to turn against their human oppressors. Magneto formed an army bred for mutant supremacy, focusing his attacks on the US's major cities, centered at Metropolis.He was able to do what few have ever done: bring Superman to his knees. He and his army were eventually defeated by the combined efforts of the Justice League, the X-Men, and SHIELD.

How will the past year affect the present? What dangers will the superheroes oppose as they grow within their roles as Earth's guardians? How many new heroes and villains will emerge?

Welcome to "One Universe", The Marvel and DC Crossover RPG: Season IV.

Gamemasters: Wiegeabo, Byrd Man, Keyser Soze
Founded by Logan Howlett
Exiled dictator: Johnny Blaze

RULES

• 
  [*]You may choose any character from both universes, but no custom or Amalgam characters such as Darkclaw or Super Soldier will be allowed.
  [*]All characters can interact with each other, it is the same universe.
  [*]Characters from alternate time lines are allowed but must be approved.
  [*]No Killing. Unnamed, faceless NPC's may be killed, but not major characters, or taken characters. Someone else may want to take up the character, or they may be important to another story.
  [*]You can go anywhere within the galaxy except planets already known to be destroyed, such as Krypton, although if you have the ability you may visit the ruins or asteroids.
  [*]You are your character, so act like it. Talk like them, use their dialogue. Do not exaggerate your powers, or pop-up here and there without explanation. BE Your character.
  [*]Several stories can be going at once, and you have the freedom to interact with other characters.
  [*]You must post at least once every two weeks, though it is preferred that you post more. If you go two weeks without a post, your character is up for grabs.
  [*]Be serious, no slander, or impractical actions from your character. Example; "I found a crystal and now I own the world! You're all my slaves!"
  [*]If a major character is applied for, there will be a 24 hour period for other applicants. If there are multiple applications, the GM's will decide who gets the character. Less popular characters can be given out on a first come, first server basis.
  [*]Due to inactivity and uncertainty, all players from the previous season will have to re-apply for their character(s). You may copy/paste posts from a prior Season to use as sample posts. However, you will still have to re-apply with the new applications.
  [*]And of course, all regular rules of the Hype apply.
  [*]Have fun.

Be anyone you want to be!

___

To apply for a character, please fill out the application form in the One Universe RPG: Season III OOC Thread...

 

[Carnage27]

​

As he walked down the crowded New York City street, he could feel the hunger overtake him. The insatiable, screaming in the back of his head that the creature wanted out. That it needed to feed.

Not now.

Yes. Now. We are hungry. We must feed.

The man stops in the middle of Times Square, with the Presidential Inauguration speech playing over the giant screen looming over the masses. America's new Commander in Chief, Lex Luthor was outlining his plans as they pertain to mutants and meta-humans alike.

Words like "registration" and "revealing secret identities" were being thrown around, and it brought plenty of joy to the man.

He couldn't help but chuckle to himself. The thought of Parker having to unmask in public, and then having those he wrong descend upon him like a pack of starving vultures.

No, he is ours.

Yes, yes he is...

Eddie Brock, no, Venom, was ready to make Spider-man's life a living hell. And it would begin tonight.

 

[Eddie Brock]

Somewhere in the distance, I hear the sound of a horn honking, but I ignore it. Smiling happily, I mutter, "Of course I respect you as an artist, Angelina. I mean, ever since I saw Changeling, I just can't stop thinking about how effectively you--" The honking persists. My smile falters. "What? No, of course I don't have anywhere better to be, Angie!"

"Peter!" Aunt May calls out. Her voice is muffled behind the door. "If you don't get down there soon, Harold is going to wake up the whole neighborhood!" She knocks on the door for a few times before I hear her footsteps fading away.

My eyes pop open. My alarm clock is flashing desperately. I groan as I roll over on my back. Resting my head against the pillow, I picture Angelina's face again. She winks once, and I merely sigh. I slink out of my bed begrudgingly and make my way for the window. "Sorry, Harr! I overslept!"

Harry is sitting in his - well, his father's, actually - green convertible with the top down. Even through his sunglasses, I can see a look of mild annoyance in his eyes. "Come on, Peter! We're going to be late!" I think better of commenting on his sudden insistence on promptness.

I bob and weave around clothes, books, papers, and everything else scattered across my bedroom floor. As I throw together a halfway-decent outfit, I catch sight of myself in the mirror. My hair is its usual, disheveled self. I contemplate running a comb through it, but I know the effort would be useless. Tossing my costume haphazardly into one of my backpack's compartments, I glide down the stairs and out the door.

It's going to be one of those days.

***

As the day wears on, my attention span grows thin. In English class, while our teacher blabs on about Shakespeare's life and works, I find myself looking around the classroom. Harry is sitting behind Gwen, whispering and giggling with her. Flash is delicately preparing a paper airplane. His right-hand man, Kong, is fast asleep. I look to the cell phone in my lap. As I watch, the little screen lights up excitedly.

1 NEW MESSAGE

I glance up carefully at the teacher, who's still talking - evidently unaware of our total disinterest in Elizabethan England. I look back down and open the awaiting message.

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, I'm not having a great day, either."

I smile to myself. Ah, the magic of technology. I can communicate instantly with my girlfriend, who just so happens to live miles and miles away. I navigate effortlessly through my phone and begin to type my response.

"You know what they say: misery loves company."

"Tell me, Mr. Parker," a shrill voice announces suddenly. My head jerks up in time to see my teacher - as well as the majority of the class - staring at me. Luckily, Kong is still asleep, so that's one less pair of eyes on me. "What's so interesting," she continues, "on your lap?"

I manage to respond, "I'm sorry. It won't happen again." I begin to feel warmth building in my face. I can tell I'm turning red. I try to sink a little lower in my seat.

"Put it away, or I'll be forced to confiscate it," my teacher commands with sharp finality. I quickly shove the phone back in my pocket, and she appears somewhat satisfied. As she turns her attention back to the chalkboard, I look over to Harry. He's smirking and shaking his head.

***

After school, I'm standing in J. Jonah Jameson's office. He's on the phone, so I'm forced to stand there awkwardly with the new photos in my hands. As Jonah continues to talk and laugh, Robbie enters. He greets me silently before standing by my side. We both wait for Jonah to acknowledge us.

"You're kidding!" Jonah barks into the phone. I'm a little worried about the wideness of his smile. Without warning, his demeanor shifts. He leans forward in his seat and asks nervously, "And he was willing to say all on this on-the-record?!"

The pause seems exceptionally excruciating.

Jonah laughs loudly. As I look around, I see that even those working outside the office can hear. Jonah doesn't appear to be concerned, however. "Oh boy! Oh, Leeds, I could kiss you right now!" Jonah announces joyfully. "You better believe that you'll be rewarded for this! ... What? A raise?! Don't get carried away now, Leeds!" Only then does Jonah glance at Robbie and I. "Look, just get back here ASAP."

Once Jonah has hung up the phone, it's Robbie who asks, "What's the big news, Jonah?"

"An armored car was ambushed and robbed today," Jonah begins. His excitement is clearly visible. I hold my breath in anticipation of what's about to come next. "And the driver claims that it was Spider-Man!"

Robbie looks almost as shocked as me. Once again, he speaks before I can even open my mouth. "Spider-Man? Jonah, you can't honestly believe this!" Robbie waves his hand frantically, as if struggling to find an argument. "I mean, he's already been framed once!"

My thoughts go back to that murder that I was blamed for. Luckily, I have a friend inside the NYPD who helped me escape charges. Well, that and the fact that A. the webbing was made of different material and B. they had security camera footage of me stopping a break-in at the time of the murder.

"Turns out that little prick's gone back to that black suit of his," Jonah explains in a tone that most closely resembles a growl. However, he's still beaming. "If you ask me, it's perfect! We can do so much with that black suit. I can see it now: THE DARK SIDE OF SPIDER-MAN!" As he smiles at the imaginary, floating headline, he turns to me. "What?!"

"I brought pictures," I explain feebly, demonstrating the photos in my hands. Frankly, I'm surprised I remembered them. My mind is still processing what I've just heard. "And about Spider-Man--"

But Jonah waves me off. "I don't want to hear it," he barks dismissively. "I didn't get where I am today by listening to the advice of people too young to drink. Now, leave the photos on my desk. I have work to do." With that, he spins in his chair and starts clicking away at his keyboard. I hear him swear at the computer under his breath. Robbie shoots me an apologetic look, but I put the photos down and walk out. No point in arguing any further.

***

Later on, I hear reports of some Rhino character tearing through the downtown area. I don my trusty red-and-blues and swing off in that direction. Truth be told, with the way my day's been going, I'm more than glad to slap the nearest supervillain silly. It'll take my mind off my problems for a little while.

Yep. It's all in a day's work for...

 

[Byrd Man]

The sun started to rise over the city of Gotham. People were slowly waking from their beds to face the upcoming day of challenges.​

Even the officers of the GCPD were dragging their feet. The day shift half-awake, and the night shift half-asleep.​

Commissioner Gordon rubbed his eyes as he sat down behind his desk with his coffee cup in his hand.​

“Commissioner.” Captain Essen said breathlessly as she entered his office.​

“Patrol found another kid. Same as the last five.”​

Gordon closed his eyes as he pondered the next step.​

“Okay. Call Lieutenant Akins. Round up the MCU day and night shift and have them in the squadroom within the hour. I’m putting out a code 0 for the MCU.”​

**************​

“Alright! Who the hell took my Twinkie?!” Sargent Harvey Bullock barked as he searched through the MCU’s breakroom fridge.​

“I think it’ll be okay, Harvey.” Detective Renee Montoya said as she sat at the breakroom table.​

“’Harvey’? Rookie, we’ve been partners for two weeks. I’m still Sargent Bullock to you!”​

She just shook her head as Captain Essen walked into the breakroom.​

“Bullock, Montoya. Squadroom in a half-hour. Commissioner has declared a Code 0 for the MCU.”​

The partners traded looks as Essen walked out.​

****************​

His shift had been over for almost an hour now, but Detective Marcus Driver was still on the job. A private project of his. He sat in his car watching the house across the street from him.​

Inside lived one David Stephens. Fresh out of Blackgate after a 5-10 stretch for armed robbery. He was on parole for the next year and a half. Driver had found out that he was a wife beater. In Driver’s book, that was worse than being a goddamn mass murderer.​

From his car, Driver could hear the sounds of the fight. Stephens punching his wife and her pleas for mercy.​

His blood slowly boiled as he heard the fight go on. It was practically steaming as he talked into his scanner.​

“16 Adam Seven to dispatch. Send a patrol car to 825 Shirley Street. Parole violation. I won’t be here, but they’ll see him.​

He finally got his car and stomped to the house. He left his gun behind in the car. For this lowlife, he didn’t need or want a gun.​

He gently knocked on the front door.​

“Who is it?”​

“Mailman. Got a message for Stephens. Something about him being a dickless *****.”​

“What?!”​

Driver heard Stephens stomping through the house. He opened the door with a look of rage in his eyes. He was a balding fat man.​

“Think you’re funny?” Stephens said as he grabbed at Driver.​

The detective sidestepped the fat man and slapped him hard in the face.​

He stumbled back as Driver charged and elbowed the fat man in the nose, breaking it with a loud crack.​

Pulling out a pair of handcuffs, had snapped them on Stephens’ wrist and on the door.​

“You’ll do six months for parole violation. Touch her again and I’ll get comfy with your parole officer and have you violated on a child molester beat….you know what they do to child molesters in Blackgate, right?”​

He only whimpered as his bloody and beaten wife came to the door.​

“You okay?” Driver asked.​

She nodded and looked at her husband with disdain. Driver reached down and grabbed Stephens’ wallet out of his back pocket. He pulled a roll of twenty’s out of the wallet and gave them to the woman.​

“Here you go. Find a place to stay and get yourself cleaned up. Never come back to this loser again.”​

She managed a smile as she walked off the front porch and out to the street.​

Driver looked back at Stephens as he walked off the porch and to his car.​

“16 Adam seven, dispatch to 16 Adam Seven.”​

Driver grabbed the microphone as he got into his car.​

“Go ahead.”​

“Code 0 to all MCU cops. Get back to Central ASAP.”​

**************​

Charlie Fields and his wife Nora lay in bed, gently sleeping after making love. They were both on the night shift, he a detective and she with the morgue.

He had almost reached deep sleep when the phone next to their bedside started to ring.

“I got it.” Charlie mumbled as he reached for the phone.

“Hello?….This is Fields…..What?…Okay, I’ll be right there.” He hung up, sighed and kissed his wife’s shoulder.

“I gotta go.”

**************​

“Stop!” Detective Kevin Cole yelled as he chased after Tavaris “Weasel” Ramsey, age 31 and currently wanted by the MCU for money laundering.

Ramsey was a half a block ahead of Cole as he ran down the congested streets of the Narrows.

“Kasper!” Sargent Maggie Sawyer yelled as she was even father behind.

“Can’t talk right now Maggie.” Cole said as he ducked into a side alley to cut Weasel off.

The felon started to slow down and smile as he assumed the police were lost.

WHAM!

Out of nowhere, the Cole crashed into Ramsey and slung the criminal to the ground.

“You’re under arrest, ****er.”

Sawyer was out of breath as she ran up next to Cole.

“Kasper…I…I…”

“I know Maggie, we got him.” He said with a smile.

“Not that! Jesus, man. We’ve been partners for two weeks and you keep doing this crap. This isn’t Narco where you can run around gung-ho like you own the city.” She growled as they picked Weasel off the ground and started marching him to the car.

“Anyway. When we get this piece of trash booked, we need to get to the MCU squadroom. Gordon issued a Code 0 to all MCU cops.”

************​

“All right, let’s settle down.” Captain Essen said as the two dozen or so cops mingled around the squadroom.

The crowd quieted as Commissioner Gordon took front and center.

“Okay, listen up.” He says as the puts his hands on his hips.

“Around 8:30 this morning. Patrol found a dead body in a drainage ditch off Miller Avenue. The body is that of Marisa Hardgrove, age eight. This is the fifth dead child found in the last month. Like the other four, she was mutilated. Her right arm, left ear, and nose were missing. Crime lad seems to indicate she was killed by strangulation. Originally, this was something handled by homicide. But I’ve bumped it up to a major crime. I want all detectives on this case. Now, Captain Essen and Lieutenant Akins will hand out assignments. I want whoever is doing this found and found now. The people of Gotham want justice, ladies and gentlemen. They demand it.”

 

[Eddie Brock]

I clear my throat and scan the assembled crowd.

An attractive, if austere, woman is seated in the front row. The lapel of her pantsuit bears an American flag pin. I take her for a representative of our new President, Lex Luthor.

Next to her is Dr. Will Magnus, checking his watch absently.

A few seats down is Dr. Hank McCoy, unmistakable through his thick coat of blue fur - which happens to be shedding on his annoyed neighbors.

Further down the rows, Ted Kord - wearing his usual tshirt and blazer combination - has his feet up on the chair in front of him.

On the other side of the room, an unknown face stares at me with cold, calculating eyes. I enlarge the size of my eye subtly, and am able to see that his nametag reads, "Professor Milton Fine." The name, like the face, is unfamiliar.

Dr. Hank Pym is brushing hair out of his eyes and taking notes on a small notepad.

Michael Holt, often considered one of the smartest men in the world, is seated surprisingly far back. He looks up from his PDA and meets my gaze. I instantly turn it elsewhere.

A group of uniformly-dressed attendees nearly takes up a whole row. Their sunglasses are so tinted that I cannot tell what they're looking at. The apparent leader - a voluptuous blonde woman - is seated nearest the aisle. I instantly recognize them as SHIELD personnel.

At the farthest end of the room, Johnny is asleep with his head flung back comically. Even from this distance, I swear I can see drool. Next to him, Ben has an oversized fedora pulled low over his brow - presumably to protect him from the intellectually curious eyes surrounding him. Sue waves awkwardly, and I clear my throat a second time.

"In conclusion, while this Humanoid Experimental Robot B-Type Intergrated Electronics - or H.E.R.B.I.E., as I like to call him -" This draws a few feeble chuckles. "- while H.E.R.B.I.E. is merely a very primitive prototype, it is not inconceivable to believe that advanced technology such as this could be found in almost every household within the decade." I smile pleasantly and motion to H.E.R.B.I.E., who attempts to bow but ends up merely bending strangely. There is mild applause as I leave the stage, H.E.R.B.I.E. in tow.

"You were excellent, Reed," Sue assures me as she approaches. Johnny is rubbing his eyes and clutching his side, apparently nursing the result of Sue's elbow going into his ribs. Sue is smiling, but it is a vacant smile.

I pretend not to notice. Even I can tell that I was boring. Hardly the kind of presentation everyone expects from the great Reed Richards. A simple robot? Pathetic. "Thanks. It really means a lot that you came," I respond genuinely. "I can imagine that these science expos can't be much fun for you guys."

"You kidding?" Johnny asks groggily. His sarcasm is still apparent. "I can't imagine anywhere else I'd rather be." Sue immediately glares at him, and he decides against proceeding any further. "Say, who's the babe?" He nods in the direction of the vacating SHIELD contigency.

"SHIELD, I believe," I answer. I can instantly tell by the look in Sue's eyes that perhaps I gazed too long at the voluptuous blonde woman. "Between everything that happened with the League and now General Fury resigning, they're getting a little desperate to gather their allies."

Sue asks, "What about you? Where do your allegiances fall?"

Smiling, I reply, "With you guys, of course." To which Johnny mutters something about feeling sick. "Besides, this entire SHIELD/League situation is getting far too militant if you ask me. People need to remember that we're on the same side."

"Doesn't SHIELD foot our bills, though?" Ben asks.

"That they do," I sigh. "Although, our stream of income is enough that we could go independent if we needed to."

As if the mention of money suddenly woke him up, Johnny jumps in, "Then why don't we?"

"Because there is no present reason for us to," I explain simply. "Besides, with all the losses incurred at the Baxter Building, I think it would be unwise to tighten our financial situation any further than it already is."

"Then let's hope you're wrong about SHIELD and the League."

I merely nod.
​

 

[Keyser Soze]

"The people of Gotham want justice, ladies and gentlemen. They demand it."

I stand before an assembled army of criminals, elevated on a makeshift podium in a vast warehouse crammed with the worst elements of society. My army. Crooks, killers, merceneries, drug dealers and masked crazies, this is the company I now keep. This is my kingdom. A lot has happened in the past month.

Harvey Dent died in that courtroom, when Boss Maroni thew acid in his face. If not then, he was certainly killed off for good the night he murdered Maroni. Now I'm all that's left of him. Two-Face. Over one bloodsoaked night, I wiped out Falcone and all my other competition, leaving me as the undisputed figurehead of all organised crime in Gotham. I've lost the District Attorney job now. But even if I still had it, I realise now that you can't make a difference in a city like Gotham by playing the rules and following the law to the letter. Justice is something that goes beyond what the law can provide, in its current, impotent state. The only true justice in this world is the cruel, random justice of fate. The flip of a coin...

It's been a busy month. As the top crime boss in Gotham - the only crime boss of any real significance, now - I control and regulate all the illegal goings on, in ways I could never do as District Attorney. I've made a lot of changes. I've sealed off two areas of the city - the very worst parts of the Narrows and the East End - cordoned off these 8-block stretches of land from the outside world and surrounded them with enough firepower to turn them into fortresses. All the drug dealing, racketeering, prostitution, I've concentrated it all into these two zones. All Gotham's various gangs and underworld communities are free to do business as they wish here, uninhibited. There is little worry of gang war, as all major gangs are now united under me. The police are not welcome here. In these two zones, I am the only law.

If Gotham's criminals want to deal or solicit in this city, they have to do it in on of my two crime zones. If they want entry into these zones, they have to sign up with me, and kick up a portion of their profits. In turn, I'm legitimising them, letting them ply their trade in safe, non-violent surroundings. The drug dealers and the pimps operate like any other business would now. I make sure they abide by the rules, that the dealers have safe product (well, as safe as that filth can be) and the pimps treat their girls (or boys, if that's their thing) well. If anyone breaks the rules, or God forbid, they try and do business without my approval, outside one of my regulated zones? Retribution is quick, decisive, and often life-ending.

These two zones are like hell on earth, all of the worst of Gotham condensed into two small areas and left to fester and flourish. But I'm not doing this for them. I'm doing this for the rest of the city. The good people, the innocents, I made sure they got a ticket out of my crime zones. The rest of the Narrows, the rest of the East End, the rest of Gotham as a whole... it's cleaning up. The city's overall crime levels are down over 20% from last month. No more turf wars and shootouts, now all the unpleasantness has been weeded out and set aside. I did what Gordon couldn't do, what Batman couldn't do, what Harvey Dent couldn't do. I've rescued Gotham City from the abyss. It's safe for children to play in the streets of Gotham once more.

Or at least, I thought it was.

"Someone isn't playing by the rules," I say to my army, "An 8 year old girl was murdered and mutilated yesterday. Marisa Hardgrove. Another child, dead. Someone is out there, killing innocent children, and the police aren't doing anything to hunt the bastard down."

I feel rage rising up in my gut. I've killed when necessary, I've let life or death be decided by the outcome of a coin toss. But this? Children? It makes me sick to my stomach. The monster who's doing this has to pay.

"So I propose we do the job for them."

 

[Watchman]

Who, What, When, and Why is "Marvel Boy"?

Prologue: Five Years
-"We've got five years, stuck on my eyes
We've got five years, what a surprise
We've got five years, my brain hurts a lot
We've got five years, that's all we've got"


"Hurm?" His name is Henry Peter Gyrich. He is sitting before the prisoner, fixing his glasses, and staring down at a folder. It is a cramped, dark room also hot....the air condition is broken. It is five years from now. It may or may not be the end of the world.

"According....you claim that you are Kree...right?" Gyrich wipes his brow and moves some papers around.

"Correct," Noh-Varr's tone was full of insorbordination, "I am...was part of the 18th Kree Diplomatic Gestalt." Noh-Varr almost had it.

"Right, here's the deal. We had contacted the Kree. They've never heard of you and want nothing to with you."

"That's because...."

"....you're from a parallel world. Right, do you have any idea how stupid that sounds when it comes out of your mouth? Now listen sonny, in this day and age that bull**** doesn't cut it. Now I want cold hard facts. In front of me I have pages and pages of crimes against humanity and thousands of other races. What do you have to say about that?!" He coughed. It was a combination of spit and blood.

"I say," Marvel Boy rised up from his seat. His hands were in cuff, "that I had enough of your blathering." He releases himself from the cuffs and turns toward the door. He opens the door and turns his head back toward Gyrich.

"Do not bother me, anymore." He slams the door in Gyrich's face who rushed out of his chair. Noh-Varr could hear Gyrich slamming his fist against the door and shouting curses probably some that he had just made up. Gyrich is lucky. He had dropped that fat cow, Waller, from a White Martian ship last year. Her Suicide Squad were sent after her. None of them made it back.

This might have been around the time when the world ended.
*********
Purgatorio
-"O gene umana, per volar sù nata,
perché a poco vento così cadi?"

"Well its not that I like it here."

"..."

"Sure, I'm king but that doesn't mean a thing here in Limbo."

"..."

"Well I'm not really sure what Limbo is. I mean we haven't been used in a while."

"..."

"Used, written, role-played, whatever."

"..."

"Well maybe you will be used. I don't know maybe you can be used in Arkham. You were kinda of the Spider-Man version right, Dr. Kafka?"

"...."

"Here's the thing about Limbo, nothing suppose to happen here. But I know a secret, something is."
********
Golden Age: Part 1
-I'll stick with you baby for a thousand years
Nothing's gonna touch you in these golden years

He remembers falling. The first time his ship was shoot down and then....and then he was falling again. There was something missing but it was mostly a haze. What was happening? The next thing he felt was the impact of his body hitting the ground. Things were getting even more hazy he could make out an object in the distance.

"Who do you think he is, John? You think he's Russian?" He could hear them.

"I'm not sure, Mary. I think we should get the sheriff."

"That won't be neccessary." Noh-Var jumps up holding his ray gun. He looked around, elderly couple, broken spaceship, truck.

"Where and when am I?!" He shouted pointing the ray gun at them.

"Oh my, John, do something!"

"Now mister..."

"Where and when?" His voice dropped to a threatening whisper.

"Smallville. Smallville, 1938."

"That's enough, Noh-Varr." The voice came from the sky. The three of them looked up. Noh-Varr gritted his teeth.

"Dox."

"Now please, Noh-Varr, enough of this foolishness. Come along peacefully."

"Not a chance."

 

[Catman_prb]

Dr. McCoy's Biology Class - 3:35

"Bobby," Jamie hissed. The blonde boy seated in front ignored him.

"Hey Bobby!" he hissed a little louder. Still no reaction. Jamie screwed up his notes on the endocrine system and threw them at his friend's head.

"Iceman!" he said.

"What the hell is it?" Bobby asked, spinning around.

"Where's Cyk?" Jamie asked, doodling idly on his notepad.

"Doing something better than this I bet," he muttered.

"Rogue's looking awful pretty today," Jamie said dreamily. Bobby raised an eyebrow.

"Rogue? You've got no chance," he scoffed.

"I could get Rogue," Jamie said, affronted.

"No way,"

"Well then who could I get?" he tried.

"Jubilee?" Bobby tried, chewing on the end of his pencil.

"Too cruel man,"

"Well Kitty Pryde is going out with that Gotham kid, isn't she? Rogue still likes Scott...and Jean likes Scott...and Jubilee is free," Bobby said.

"Surely we know more girls than that?"

"They all like Scott,"

"Damn that Summers kid,"

 

[Watchman]

Golden Age: Part 2

Things went from bad to worst quickly here in Smallville country. Good old boy Noh-Varr ran a foul of Sheriff Vril Dox. He ain't taking anymore of Noh-Varr's shenaggins. But Noh-Varr ain't going to lay down like a beaten dog or turn yella and run.

"Get out of my way, Dox! Or I blow the baby's head clean off!" Noh-Varr clutched the baby he found in the nearby rocketship with a ray gun pointed to its head. The couple stood nearby horrified.

"TT" Dox was not swayed.

"Did you hear me?"

"Your ignorance never ceases to astounded me. Do you have any idea idea who that baby is?"

"?"

"Your fall through space and time has caused many problems and you personally have caused many more."

"I have?"

"So you don't remember. Well, we currently in a timeline where things happened a bit earlier. Now drop Baby Kal-L. Its useless you know what happens when Kyrptonians are exposed to sunlight?"

"Of course I do. I did take third year science." Noh-Varr held the baby like a discus.

"What are you going to do with that?"

"This." Marvel Boy throws the baby toward Dox smacking him in the chest. Dox falls from the sky baby in heads and crashes to the ground. Noh-Varr turns toward the couple brandishing his gun.

"Give me your truck!" He jumped into their truck and took off heading for the town up ahead. "PLEX!"

"Yes, Noh-Varr, You've seem to have taken a wrong turn."

"And I don't remember a thing. I need a memory reconstruction now!"

"Affrimitive, Noh-Varr."

Vril Drox was laying down in the field holding the baby over him. The baby smiling and threw up on him.

"Insufferable cretin." He murmur before getting back up. He walked over to the couple and dropped the baby into their hands. "This is your's" He walked away from them speaking into his communicator.

"This is Dox, I want this area combed and I don't want Noh-Varr getting out of Smallville."
*******
"Well, John?"

"We can't leave him out here. That wouldn't be right."

"Then we keep him?"

"I would say so. What should we call him?"

"Lets name him after your father....Robert"

"Robert Reynolds, I like it."

 

[Carnage27]

​

I shift uneasily in my seat in class, attempting to stay awake and pay attention to Dr. McCoy's lecture. It's been a chore trying to sleep the past month. Almost every night the dream has me waking in a cold sweat.

In it, the Mansion burns as my friends and family burn, as a giant shadow with yellow eyes looms over me, silent as the night sky.

I'm roused from my own thoughts by my friends' conversation next to me.

Dr. McCoy's Biology Class - 3:35

"Bobby," Jamie hissed. The blonde boy seated in front ignored him.

"Hey Bobby!" he hissed a little louder. Still no reaction. Jamie screwed up his notes on the endocrine system and threw them at his friend's head.

"Iceman!" he said.

"What the hell is it?" Bobby asked, spinning around.

"Where's Cyk?" Jamie asked, doodling idly on his notepad.

"Doing something better than this I bet," he muttered.

"Rogue's looking awful pretty today," Jamie said dreamily. Bobby raised an eyebrow.

"Rogue? You've got no chance," he scoffed.

"I could get Rogue," Jamie said, affronted.

"No way,"

"Well then who could I get?" he tried.

"Jubilee?" Bobby tried, chewing on the end of his pencil.

"Too cruel man,"

"Well Kitty Pryde is going out with that Gotham kid, isn't she? Rogue still likes Scott...and Jean likes Scott...and Jubilee is free," Bobby said.

"Surely we know more girls than that?"

"They all like Scott,"

"Damn that Summers kid,"

I flash a smile at Jamie, "It could be worse...you could have a tail, mein friend."

 

[Catman_prb]

I flash a smile at Jamie, "It could be worse...you could have a tail, mein friend."

"Positive thinking, man," Jamie said, grinning "Think of it as...another appendage to aid and abbet you. Plus you're blue and furry, what girl wouldn't want that,"

 

[Carnage27]

"Positive thinking, man," Jamie said, grinning "Think of it as...another appendage to aid and abbet you. Plus you're blue and furry, what girl wouldn't want that,"

I quietly chuckle to myself and whisper back, "Unfortunately...zhey aren't all into zhe elf-dude..."

Bobby notices me scribbling on the side of my notes, and snatches them from underneath me, and scoffs at what I was doodling.

"Oh, come on man, you can't be serious. You've been obsessing about her since you met her. She's out of you're league, bro."

I blush...well as much as possible for someone who has a dark blue complextion, "Vell, you never know Bobby."

"Give it up elf-lips, it ain't gonna happen."

"Mr. Wagner, Mr. Madrox, Mr. Drake, do you have something to share with the class?" Dr. McCoy calls out from the front of the room.

We all answer with a "No sir," and remain quiet until the bell rings at the end of class.

We shuffle out of the room, and I catch up with Jamie and Bobby.

"Have you talked to Scott about joining zhe team yet?" I ask Jamie.

 

[SenseiofCheese]

Amanda Waller​

"Are you sure?" he asked, an almost childlike innocence in both his voice and expression.

Amanda Waller smiled. Her outfit almost made her disappear into the dark gray walls of her office. Everything in it had a distinct lack of color to it, except for the man standing in front of her. The man was unbelievably handsome by any standard. He was of herculean stature and towered over Amanda as she walked over to him and raised a comforting hand up to his shoulder.

"Robert." she began with a soothing voice as unnatural to her as drinking oil. "I give you my word. We are doing everything in our power to help you. Our best psychics have studied your mind, and Ms. Frost assures me they are making considerable progress."

The man hung his head and smiled, not entirely convinced but hopeful. "Alright. Thank you, Amanda."

This man was capable of smashing an asteroid into pieces. He could kill the entirety of the SHIELD helicarrier he was on within a second, and he could cause a tidal wave with his pinky finger. And Amanda Waller had him squarely in her pocket.

"Alright, Robert." Amanda took on a much more business-like tone of voice as she moved over to her desk and grabbed a large folder. "I wish I could tell you to go relax in the Bahamas, but I'm afraid we have some more work for you." she stated, handing him the folder.

The Sentry looked down on pictures upon pictures stacked neatly into the folder. He studied them for a while, before looking up at Amanda.

"A slave camp in Kahndaq. More importantly, a mutant slave camp." Waller said, as Robert's eyes scanned over the images once more. "We've been keeping tabs on them for a while now, but they seem to be changing locations. Obviously, we would have preferred to keep watching in hopes small game would lead us to bigger fish, but that's out of the equation now."

"And you want me to free the slaves." Robert stated assuredly. Amanda couldn't help but envy him for his black-and-white view of the world.

"Yes." she lied. "You take out the slavers, leave none of them standing. No one can see you, Robert. Not even the slaves. If word gets out an American superhero is going into other countries and cleaning house, all hell will break loose." she said to which the Sentry nodded.

"After the slavers have been dealt with, you report back to me. I'll send a special team to recover the slaves themselves, a team that can't be traced to any one country."

"I understand." Sentry nodded again. He handed the folder back over to Amanda, who placed them on her desk. Sentry turned to exit Waller's office, but turned. "And Amanda...thank you."

Amanda offered a gentle smile. "Thank you.

 

[Eddie Brock]

The hallways are all but empty when "the incident" occurs. School was dismissed fifteen minutes ago, but I stayed in Chemistry to explain to my teacher why my project was late. Of course, I couldn't exactly tell her that I was too busy trying to find my criminal doppelganger, so I gave her some bogus lie about forgetting the due date. Naturally, she was skeptical - to say the least - but she's letting it slide this time. Which is also, conveniently, what she said last time.

I'm minding my own business, pushing aside my costume so I can fit my books in my backpack, when I see Flash Thompson approaching. Interestingly enough, he's not being flanked by his usual sycophants. In fact, I don't even see a malicious grin cross his face when he sees me, all alone and seemingly vulnerable. His face is a blank wall, devoid of emotion, as he draws nearer. Nonetheless, I brace myself.

"Parker," he says simply. There's no spite, no sneer in his tone. For once, my last name doesn't carry its usual negative connotation. I glance over briefly and see Flash leaning against the lockers, thumbs tucked under the straps of his backpack.

Sighing, I close my locker and bend down to pick up my backpack. "What, no degrading nickname? No atomic wedgie? Not so much as a mild chuckle at my pathetic existence?" I'm quite certain my sarcasm is blatant. "Or does the lack of an audience ruin it for you?"

"Look, aren't we getting a little old for that kind of childish stuff?" Flash asks wearily. I can't tell if my tone offended him or if this is his way of being apologetic. I can honestly say I've never seen Flash like this.

"Frankly, Flash, we were too old for it three years ago, and two years ago, and last year," I respond irritatedly. I'm not normally so "on edge," but this is the guy who seemingly devoted the past three years of his life to making mine a living Hell. If I had never gotten my powers, God knows where I'd be right now.

Flash rests the back of his head against the lockers. "I know, alright?" Once again, his tone is riddled with annoyance and sympathy, simultaneously. "Look, I wanted to talk to you because you're the only person who can help me right now." This catches my attention. "You're good at Bio, right?"

I shrug. "I guess so," which is my way of saying, "I would have been better if I had time to do my homework, but I managed to ace it regardless."

"Well, I'm failing," Flash explains bluntly. "On top of the fact that they're threatening to kick me off varsity, my parents are going to kill me if I don't get good grades this year." Something inside of me flutters. Could it be that I'm feeling sorry for Eugene "Flash" Thompson? "I'm asking if you'll help me."

"You mean, like a tutor?" I ask hesitantly. Flash nods. Tutoring Flash? I've accomplished some amazing feats, but this one may prove to be insurmountable. "I mean, I can try, but I've kinda got a busy schedule..."

"Me too. Look, how does Thursday night sound?"

Barring a total emergency that demands Spider-Man's attention, I don't foresee anything else going on that night. So, despite the part of me that's still afraid this is an elaborate prank, I answer, "Sure. Your place?"

Flash nods tiredly. "Yeah, it's--"

"I know where it is. I used to be over all the time." This provokes a very awkward silence. That was a phase of our lives that we have both tried very hard to wipe from memory, but it's one of those things that sticks with you. Besides, we were kids. "So, Thursday?" Flash mutters something in agreement before trudging down the hallway.

That thing inside me flutters once more. I think it's called "empathy."

***

Once it starts to get dark enough, I decide to make an unscheduled visit to a friend. As I approach through the air, I can make out a silhouette waiting on the roof. I smile a little beneath my mask and dismount. Upon closer examination, I realize something's different.

"Sorry. Wrong attractive female officer," I announce as I walk up to the uniformed woman.

Without a smile, the woman explains, "Detective Montoya transferred to Gotham weeks ago." Seeing her in the light for the first time, I notice that she looks like she just walked out of a 1930's pulp film. She even has the half-smoked cigarette to complete the look.

I'm taken aback by the sudden news. Montoya never mentioned a transfer to me. "Did she decide that crime wasn't tough enough here in the Big Apple for her?"

"I have no knowledge of the reasons for her decision," the woman answers emotionlessly. I'm starting to feel like she won't be playing along with me all that much. "Although, if this is your idea of humor, I might be so bold as to hazard a guess as to her motives?" She doesn't realize that I saw the tiny smirk that emerged with this line.

"Okay, Ice Queen, I guess we're stuck with each other then, aren't we?" I ask cheerfully. In truth, I'm not the biggest fan of her attitude towards me. All that said, there's a part of me that gets a twisted sense of joy out of joking with people who insist on seriousness. "I'm Christian Bale, and you are?"

She flicks her cigarette carelessly. For a cop, she doesn't seem to have much concern for littering. "I would have thought you would read my badge," she responds in that cold manner of hers. Then, with that almost nonexistent smirk, she adds, "Christian."

"Well, I didn't want to intrude, Miss..." I squint behind my lenses. "DeWolff."

"It's Sergeant," she corrects in a tone befitting a Catholic schoolteacher.

Slightly bemused, I announce, "Well, Sergeant DeWolff, you certainly seem to be impervious to my boyish charm." I swear she can see the twinkle in my eye, even despite the lenses. "But don't think I haven't noticed that you haven't slapped any cuffs on me yet."

Unfortunately, this doesn't elicit much of a response. "The investigation into the recent string of crimes - for which you've been accused - is still underway."

I fire a webline at a horizontal flagpole overhead and situation myself in an upside-down hanging position. "It could be that. Or it could be that you like me more than you're letting on. Or, failing all that, maybe you just don't think I did it." I arch an eyebrow, hoping it shows beneath the fabric.

"I admit, the facts don't seem to add up," she replies hesitantly. I finally seem to be getting somewhere. "Despite the Bugle's outcries to the contrary, it doesn't make sense that you'd spend all this time protecting New York, just to turn around and start committing a unprovoked crime spree." I inwardly say, "Thank you." "So, either something happened that caused a sudden change in you - which I haven't ruled out - or, far more likely, someone out there wants us to believe you're responsible."

"Aww. I'm touched, Sergeant." I hold a hand over my heart. "Say, why don't you keep me out of jail, and I'll deliver this scumbag to your doorstep? It's a win-win."

"Unless you really are responsible."

I shake my head. "Shame, shame, Sergeant. And here I thought we were getting to trust each other." I fire a webline in the distance, and she doesn't seem to protest. Shrugging, I swing off into the night. Could've been worse.
​

 

[Carnage27]

​

The darkness of the city night surrounds the creature known as Venom, but it saw as if it was broad day light. It had put its plan in motion to ruin Spider-man and Peter Parker alike.

Killing the armored car guards was easy, but the next layer would be much, much more fun.

Venom perches itself in a tree overlooking Detective Dane Fry's house in Queens. Fry was one of the lead investigators in the case against "Spider-man."

A case that was about to get much more interesting.

Detective Fry slowly openes the door and step inside, and is immediately struck in the back of the head by Venom's foot, sending him sprawling into his coat closet.

The symbiotic creature slammes the door behind itself by lashing out with a web-like tendril, and glares at the quivering cop, "Probably not a good idea to investigate a kid with super powers, buddy."

"Wha-wha-what do you want? I'll do anything! I'll close the investigation!" he begs with tears streaming down his face.

"Oh, it's much too late for that, detective," the monster says as it strings a tendril around the policeman's neck and attached it to the ceiling.

Venom then places the man on top of a chair, and he instantly knew what his fate would be.

"Do you know what it feels like to be humiliated, detective? To have everything you had ever wanted taken from right underneath you by someone who didn't deserve it?" Venom whispered into the doomed man's ear, as its Spider-man-like mask parted, and a long, slithering tongue whipped out from behind a row of razor sharp teeth and against the side of his face. "We do."

Venom kicks the chair out, and watches as the life drains from the struggling maggot in front of him.

Before Venom walks out the door, he sticks a crumpled piece of paper to the hung man's chest.

It reads: Your friendly, neighborhood Spider-man.

 

[SenseiofCheese]

This is the third time this month Logan finds himself standing outside a run-down bar in the middle of nowhere. He's wearing the remnants of a white t-shirt, covered in dirt and blood, and ripped jeans. His claws are extended. At his feet are three men, all of them twice his size.

Each breath that escapes his lungs sounds more like a growl then a breath. His heart is racing, adrenaline pumping through his veins. His abdomen still stings slightly from getting impaled with a broken pool cue.

This particular group of men recognized Logan, sitting by his lonesome working on his seventh pitcher of beer, and remembered him from the news. Convincing them he wasn't "that mutie freak" did not work, nor did telling them he was in fact fighting against Magneto.

The patrons of the bar are gathered around the windows and door of the bar, staring wide-eyed. The moment Logans' feral gaze meets theirs, they immediately vanish back inside. "I wouldn't even try it, bub."

"You could hear me from all the way over here?" the man coming up behind Logan said with a misplaced sense of awe and admiration for someone who was trying to kill him. "Amazing."

"Try smelled you." Logan turned to face the man.

The man was tall, taller than the others. He wore a suit, a kind of brand-new suit that had no business being around these parts. The man had apparently bathed in cologne, as the stench was almost too much for Logan to bear.

The man chuckled. "You can put those away, Logan. I'm not here to fight you."

"I don't think I will." Logan growled. The animal inside screamed at him to pounce, to go for blood. But something about the man seemed...familiar. The muscles in Logans' body were tensed, his breathing heavy and ragged. "I don't suppose yer going to tell me how you know my name."

"Now's not really the time, my friend." the man said, and Logan almost flinched at the word 'friend'. With his hands behind his back, the man looked around; at the bar, the men at Logan's feet, and Logan himself. "Nor is the setting. And to be honest, those always did make me nervous." he said, gesturing to the claws jutting from Logan's wrists.

"But I will tell you in good time. In fact, that's why I'm here, Logan."

"Hnnh?"

"To tell you there is someone who knows you. The real you. And that someone is me." the man moves one hand to the inside of his jacket, and Logan immediately moves to lunge. "Wait." he says, slowly reaching into his jacket and pulling out a card. "When you decide you've had enough of petty bar fights and brightly coloured superheroes. When you decide you are ready for the answers you've been searching for all your life. I'll be waiting for you." the man states matter-of-factly, as he flicks his wrist and sends the card flying into the air and down onto one of the unconscious men.

Logans' eyes follow the card, but his body doesn't move an inch.

"Who the hell are you?" he growls, looking up at the man, who has already begun walking away.

"My name is Vandal Savage." he calls back. "I'll be seeing you, Logan."

 

[Eddie Brock]

I slump into the common room, followed closely by H.E.R.B.I.E. Sue, Johnny, and Ben have all retired to their respective rooms. I only hope their beds are as comfortable here as they were back at the Baxter Building. A tinge of sadness washes over me as I remember our old headquarters, struck down before its prime. Still, Four Freedoms Plaza is hardly a tough sell. In many ways, it's almost a duplicate of the Baxter.

"Shall I prepare a late night snack for you, Master Richards?" H.E.R.B.I.E. asks cordially. His vocal processors still aren't quite as developed as I might like. His voice is still too synthetic for my tastes.

I wave a casual hand. "That won't be necessary, H.E.R.B.I.E.," I answer with equal politeness. I remove my glasses and rub the bridge of my nose. I feel a headache coming on, but I'm sure it's merely a result of my lack of adequate sleep. "And, please, don't call me 'Master Richards.' You're not a slave. Just call me 'Reed.'"

"As you wish, sir," H.E.R.B.I.E. responds, evidently missing my entire point. Unfortunately, his subservience seems to be a direct result of his primary programming. While I intended for him to perform basic protocol, I did not wish for him to consider himself somehow lower than humans. If anything, he's the future. "Do you still wish for me to perform a preliminary diagnostics test on the Fantasticar engine's upgrades?"

"Don't worry about it. It can wait until morning," I assure him. Sure enough, I hear his servos processing this new information. He is surely scheduling the diagnostics test for the morning. In an attempt to relieve him of the task, I add, "Besides, I'm still not certain about the thrust capacity. Something tells me that my calculations are flawed."

H.E.R.B.I.E. shakes his head. It's an odd action to watch a robot perform. "I have the utmost faith in your computations, sir. Furthermore, I have taken the liberty to verify your data. Mathematically speaking, it's all correct." If he could smile, I imagine that he would right now. Noticing that I have plopped down into an armchair, H.E.R.B.I.E. suggests, "Perhaps you might like some background music for relaxation, sir?" I hear a click and a whir as the room's digital stereo system comes online. H.E.R.B.I.E. is wirelessly connected to all the electronics in the entire building. "Mozart, perhaps? Although my records show that you have selected Beethoven more consistent in the past three months."

"No music, H.E.R.B.I.E.," I answer. His persistence amazes me. I often wonder why he wishes nothing more than to please, but I remind myself that he is simply fulfilling his primary programming. All that said, I wish he didn't fulfill it quite so well. "It's been a long weekend. Why don't you take some time to reboot your systems?" I suggest.

"I have noticed a 17% lag in my computation and response time, now that you mention it, sir," H.E.R.B.I.E. notes aloud. "Your suggestion is a logical one." He merely stands there for a moment, as if considering something. Then, after considerable silence, he seems to notice that my suggestion was an act of kindness, and he announces, "Thank you." Judging by his hesitance, I'm not sure he fully grips the concept.

As H.E.R.B.I.E. excuses himself, I finally close my eyes. As I sit there, trying to let the tension flow from my body, I can't help but think about SHIELD, the League, and the Baxter Building. Sighing to no one in particular, I decide that I should take my own advice. With H.E.R.B.I.E. rebooting, I can finally have enough silence to drift into a welcome sleep.
​

 

[Watchman]

The silent alarm was pressed, a gunshot was fired, and police sirens roared. What was suppose to be a bullet proof plan now looked like swiss cheese. This was New York City and a superhero would be on the scene any second. In fact New York's new guardians or so they thought. See New York was to superheroes what L.A. was to actors. You either made it big or you stuck serving tables. There was no way in hell Most Excellent Superbat was going to serve somebody.

"If you would put down your weapons and come out peacefully...." Machine gun fired came from the bank.

"Screw you cops!" he fired one more burst, "where the hell is the gateaway car?"

"Mike should be here any second." There was a roar off in the distance. Something was coming fast...very fast. Cops dived out of the way as the Wonder Wagon crashed into a cop car.

"There is no reason to fear New York!"

"What the...." The cops were getting back up.

"...hell?" Something was buzzing around one of the criminal's ear. It let out a yell that made him grabbed his ear and fall to the ground.

"Super Young Team is here!!! Roll Call!"

"Shy Crazy Lolita Canary." The one that was flying around the guy's ear said. A few pop out of the Wonder Wagon.

"Big Atomic Lantern Boy!"

"Feral Hairy Claw Kid!"

"Shiny Happy Aquazon!"

"Mecha Armor Thunder Patroit!" This one flew down from the sky. He was clad in red, white, and blue armor. He wore a viking hat with the Captain America wings. A shield was attached to his hand and he had a hammer in his other. Back inside the bank one of the robbers ready his gun.

"That's it waste the hostages."

"Woah, Jimmy, I don't want to kill anybody."

"Waste them!"

"But..." He was met with a series of fast punches. He spun around firing off his machine gun which a few hostages had to jump out of the way.

"Well Spoken Lightening Flash!"

"Damn it!" Another one tried aiming on the Flash running around the room. He was hit in the chest by a red cylinder that exploded into a web that covered him. Something was hanging upside down from the ceiling.

"You've just been beaten by Very Friendly Spiderdevil!"

"No! NO! No!" The last one raised his handgun. Something taped him on the shoulder. "Huh?"

POW!

"And Most Excellent Superbat." There was one more that came with them, a cameraman. "Did you get all that?" He asked him. The cameraman give a thumbs up.

"Good let's go collect our reward, fame."

 

[SenseiofCheese]

Amanda Waller​

* = Translated from Arabic

"Jeez, how much longer until we can get moving? I'm boiling here*" one of the guards calls over to his friend. He swears to himself that the sun must be just a few inches from his head, as he wipes the sweat from his forehead and readjusts the rifle hanging by his side.

"Stop your complaining." his friend answers for the third time. "We'll be moving within the hour. Go get the freaks ready for transport."

All around them the camp is being dismantled. Tents being taken down, weapons loaded into crates, and now, the mutants they've captured rounded up like animals. "Shut him up. Shut him up!" he roars at a mutant woman who frantically tries to shush her young child.

CRASH

A massive crash washes over the area, and before long the entire campsite erupts into a hail of gunshots and screams. The guard pushes the woman down, grabs the rifle by his side and hurries out into the heat. It takes him 3 seconds to reach exit the tent, but by that time the gunshots have already ceased. It takes his eyes a few moments to adjust, but when they do, it still feels like he's staring directly into the sun.

-----

Amanda Waller is watching events unfolding in Kahndaq. No more than 15 minutes ago she had sent Robert Reynolds, the Sentry, on a rescue mission. At least the superhero thought it was a rescue mission.

15 minutes, and the man had already traveled to the Middle East, located the slave camp and eliminated every single one of the slavers. It was at times like these Amanda almost felt hesitant about stringing the Sentry along.

"Deputy Director Waller." a veteran SHIELD agent walks up behind Waller, professional in both stature, salute and tone of voice. "We have confirmation that the asset has eliminated all enemy units."

"Good. Send in the clean up crew. Tell them to wipe the camp clean. No survivors." Amanda stated without taking her eyes off the screen in front of her. With a curt nod and another salute, the agent turned to leave.

"Oh, and Agent Grant?"

"Ma'am?"

"How's our little side project coming along?"

"Quite well. We have two out of the five targets in custody already. Our men are....convincing them as we speak. The others are being tracked, won't belong before we have them. Agent Grant stated.

"Good." Amanda smiled an entirely unpleasant smile. "And Fury?"

"Completely unaware, ma'am."

"Excellent. Get back to work, Agent Grant." Waller ordered, turning back to the screen displaying the decimated slave camp. "We're changing the world, and we have no time to lose.

Without words, Agent Grant turned around and exited Waller's office. For a moment her thoughts drifted back to the Sentry, and just how long she could possibly keep him fooled. But for that, like everything else, Amanda Waller had a backup plan. Operation: Suicide Squad was coming together quite nicely, and the timing couldn't be better.

 

[Belvedere]

4 days ago

Eric Slaughter slammed the door of Wilson Fisk’s office shut loudly and made his way downstairs, he didn’t even acknowledge his driver as he stepped into the limousine. It was clear the elderly man was furious, once again Fisk had refused another one of Slaughter’s business ventures; once upon a time Eric Slaughter had been a name that struck fear into the heart of New York’s elite, but since Fisk had taken charge he had been firmly under his thumb ever since, he was beginning to think the Kingpin had a vendetta against him.

Every time Slaughter bit his tongue, every time Slaughter willingly accepted the **** that Fisk shovelled him it damaged his already tattered reputation. If his social standing had plummeted in his old age, his temper had done the opposite and it had become harder and harder for the old man to control.

As the car pulled away from the Fisk Industries building Slaughter fiddled with his cane as he thought of all the things good in his life; he was extremely healthy for a man of his age, he had more money than he would ever use, he was still treated with a semblance of respect by some of his peers. But whatever he tried he couldn’t push the image of Wilson’s smirking face denying him once again. Who was Fisk to tell Slaughter what to do? He had been running the streets long before Fisk was out of his diapers.

Once again Slaughter felt his temper boiling up; angrily he snapped his cane over his knee and threw the pieces onto the floor of the limousine. His driver lowered the blacked out window between them and looked back at his employer, “You alright boss?” he asked with a confused tone. Slaughter’s breathing slowed as he calmed down and he nodded, “I’m fine Donald” he said and the driver began raising the window up again.

Slaughter reached into his jacket and pulled out a cell phone, pressing a few buttons before pressing it against his ear.

“Get me Bullseye”

***

Today

Eric Slaughter sat in his office nervously and looked at the clock, Bullseye was meant to be here almost half an hour ago. He was slightly worried that perhaps Fisk had learned that the elderly man was looking for the assassin and put two and two together. The ding of the elevator outside of his office caught the old man’s attention, he felt his hands begin to shake nervously as he stood up and walked towards the elevator; he watched as the numbers rose from ground floor to the top floor and tried to steady his hands as the doors opened, but to his surprise the elevator was empty.

He sighed and walked back towards his office, he leant against his desk and pinched the bridge of his nose, but sprung awake as the door to his office was slammed shut from the inside; from behind it stepped Bullseye with a grin on his face, he walked towards Slaughter’s rather plush chair and slouched into it before placing his dirty shoes on his desk.

“Word on the street is you’re looking for me Slaughter."

 

[Byrd Man]

​

After the briefing with the MCU, Jim Gordon sat in his office. Looking over the incident reports of the night.

“Commissioner. There is a Special Agent Fullington here to see you.”

“Send him in, Stacy.”

Gordon sipped his coffee as his office door opened and a tall man with graying hair and a tailored suit walks in.

“Commissioner Gordon. I’m Special Agent Jim Fullington. Special Agent in Charge of the FBI’s Gotham office.” He said as he extended his hand to Gordon. The two men shook hands quickly.

“What can I help you with Agent Fullington?”

“It’s this child killing case. I know it’s occurred here in Gotham. But this is a federal crime. The director is requesting we assist the Gotham PD with anything you need.”

“No offense, Agent. But I don’t think we need your help. We have the best detectives on the force investigating this."

“No, Commissioner. I don’t think you understand. We’re the government and this is a federal crime. If we want to, we can take your department off the case while we handle it all.”

“I won’t let you do that.” Gordon said as he narrowed his eyes at the agent.

“Got a problem with it? Write your congressmen. I’ll be back here around 3:30. I expect you to call your detectives back in and then hand over all the info you have on this case to my investigators.”

Gordon managed a small smile at the agent as he stood to leave.

“Okay, Agent Fullington. I’ll get on that right away.”

**********
​

“Have a good hour off?” Charlie Fields muttered to Marcus Driver as the two men sat in silence as their car cruised through the Gotham traffic.

Driver nodded as he stared out the window. Captain Essen and Lieutenant Akins had given each detective team around five names to check on. They had all been in jail for child molestation and other kiddy perv things.

“How’s Nora?” Driver said as their car crushed to a stop at a red light.

“She’s sleeping peacefully. Apparently, the morgue doesn’t have to solve serial killings.”

“Yeah, who’d have thought it?” Driver said sarcastically as he looked over the names on the list.

“Okay. We have a Randolph, Jonathon Lees on our list. He’s a few blocks over on Orchard Avenue.”

“Dispatch to all units. 10-21 at 1940 Shirley Street. Officer down, I repeat office down!”

“So much for mister Lees.” Fields said as he hit the car’s blue lights and stomped the pedal to the floor.

***********
​

“Think there’s any truth to that rumor?” Kasper Cole said to Sawyer as they left the apartment of one of the names on their list. The guy’s alibi that he had been on vacation for the past two weeks checked out.

“I don’t know, Kasper. I mean…I wouldn’t think Gordon would do that, but it is a bit strange the way he made her head of the MCU and bumped her up to Captain all within a month.”

“Round the same time he and his wife split? C’mon, Maggie. You’re a detective. Detect!”

She rolled her eyes as they walked down the apartment’s flight of steps.

“Dispatch to all units. 10-21 at 1940 Shirley Street. Officer down, I repeat office down!” The car’s scanner squawked out as the two cops ran to the car.

*************
​

At Gotham Central, Captain Essen and Lieutenant Akins poured over files of evidence in the MCU squadroom. Pictures of the five victims, crime scene photos and DNA evidence litter the small card table they sit at.

“I don’t know how much longer I can look at this.” Akins said with a grimace.

“I got kids. Two little girls, I don’t know how their parents are putting up with it. It’d be all I could do not to put a bullet in whoever did this forehead.”

Essen silently nodded as she continued to read statements.

“So….” Akins starts.

“No. I’m not sleeping with the Commissioner.” Essen replied coldly.

“I wasn’t going to ask that,” Akins muttered as he looked over the pictures. His eyes focused on the morgue shots for a second, a thought running through his head.

“Dispatch to all units. 10-21 at 1940 Shirley Street. Officer down, I repeat office down!”

*****************
​

“Okay, rookie. Let me handle this.” Harvey Bullock grumbled as he took a long drag off his cigar and tossed it to the ground.

Montoya followed closely behind Bullock as the two went up a flight a stairs to apartment 305.

The current name on their list was a William Marshall Scot. This was his listed address.

“GCPD open up!” Bullock said as he thumped on the apartment door.

“Harv-…I mean, Sargent Bullock. Maybe that’s not the best approach.”

“Shut the hell up, rookie and let me do my job.”

BLAM!

A shotgun blast tore through the door, ripping the top half off and barely avoiding Bullock’s face by inches.

“Ahh!” He cried out as he held his shoulder on the ground.

“****er got me!”

Montoya pulled her side arm and kicked the remainder of the door in.

“GCPD Freeze!” She yelled as she surveyed the room.

She scanned the room, the perp was gone. But a window was open.

Quickly moving to it, she saw the figure that was Scot running down the fire escape.

“I hate Gotham.” Montoya muttered as she leapt on to the fire escape and gave chase.

***************
​

Maggie Sawyer and Kasper Cole ran up the flight of steps to the crumpled form of Sargent Bullock.

“Sawyer here. We confirm officer down.”

Cole reached down to Bullock’s neck, feeling for a pulse.

“Get outta here!” Bullock snapped as he pushed Cole away.

The detective stood up, holding his wounded shoulder.

“Montoya went running like a bat out of hell after the guy.”

“You get a good look at him?” Cole asked.

“Nah. I was too busy dodging goddamn birdshot. God, I need a drink.”

“EMT is downstairs.” Sawyer said as she walked into Scot’s apartment.

Sawyer looked around the apartment; a low whistle passes through her lips.

“What is it?” Cole said as he followed behind his partner.

The cluttered apartment is filled with pictures. Naked children, children engaged in sexual acts, animals and children doing perverted things.

“Wow.” Sawyer said as she surveyed the room.

“Might want to call in CSI. I would say we have our lead suspect.”

 

[Watchman]

-"No sympathy for the devil; keep that in mind. Buy the ticket, take the ride...and if it occasionally gets a little heavier than what you had in mind, well...maybe chalk it off to forced conscious expansion: Tune in, freak out, get beaten."

There is probably hundreds of dive bars just like this scattered around Gotham. Full with criminals, outcasts, and other lowlifes, it was a place that attracted him like some sort of magnet. Gotham was a like a conduct for his type. At the bar one patron sits, eats some peanuts, looks up at the television. Lex Luthor was on television. He turned to the bartender.

"Can you believe that, ****ing Lex Luthor 'sis president. What is the world coming to," the bartender grunts a sound of agreement. "Soon he going to gather all his little superteams and wipe us all out. He betrayed his own kind." As if he just spoken a string of magic words the door open. Everyone turned their head when the bell rang. Standing in the doorway was a man in a very garish costume.

"If you ask me all politcians are criminals." He said waltzing over to the bar. Nobody took their eyes off him. "But Mike," he jumped when he heard his name "you're right about one thing. Those superteams are going to wipe you all out, stick you in prisoners far off and turn places like Gotham into golden utopia."

"Uh..."

"Astute obversation, Mike. Right who could stop this travisty? Well as your duly appointed master of all things bad it's my duty nay privelege to nip this in the bud."

"Ok, fruit get the hell out of my bar."

"Mister Barkeep, I am not a fruit nor any other kind of food. I'm....well that's a surprise for later. You don't have the power to kick me out. I have a costume you don't. You are bound to fail." The bartender takes out a shotgun and points it at the man.

"Hurm..."

"This is all the power I need." The mysterious man takes notice of the bartender's cigerette. Each puff a small ember appears.

"You know those things will kill you."

"What are you worried about my health? I said get out!"

"Hmmm, did you know one of your lovely patrons is a mutant. One with a very special talent. Right, Mr. Pyro?" A lone man sitting at a table flinched.

"What? I don't allow mutants in my ba...." A flame leap from the bartender's mouth and grew and grew and grew. He was screaming now a firey mess. Then the flame ceased.

 

[Keyser Soze]

Prologue​

“Would you like to hear a story?”

Deep in the mountains of Nornheim, Odin – lord of Asgard – was in conference with fate. Fate, in the guise of the Three Norns, ancient sisters whose unknown origins predate Asgard and Olympus. It would seem that for as long as there has been a past, a present and a future, the Three Norns have been there to document it. Even Odin showed deference to these beings. And now he had come here, to this realm of Asgard where they could sometimes be found, and waited for them to appear out of the mists. They seemed to float over the ground, hovering around Asgard’s King in a loose circle.

“Stories great and stories small.”

“We three sisters know them all.”

“Speak your mind, young Odin King.”

“And we may tell what fate will bring.”

The three crones cackled knowingly amongst themselves, their wrinkled features cast into shadow by the hoods of their tattered robes.

“Most wise and gracious Norns,” spoke Odin, bowing his head, “I come here not to ask of myself. I humbly request you speak to me of my son, Thor.”

The Three Norns exchanged thoughtful glances.

“Thor the mighty.”

“Now there is a story.”

“We shall give you a glimpse, but that is all.”

Closing their eyes, the Norns summon a glowing energy that forms a solid circle around Odin, linking the three sisters. It holds the appearance of wool being spun and woven. The fabric of life. Opening their eyes, the three sisters pluck from this fabric one single thread, letting the rest of the tapestry disappear from view. As this single thread spins in an endless circle, running through the Norns’ fingers. Thousands of images sift through the mist, Thor’s past, present and future flashing past Odin at great speed.

“My son…”

“Here is the life thread of Thor.”

“Past, present and future.”

“Beginning, middle and end.”

One of the sisters floats forward, bringing the thread in her hands closer to Odin. This is Urd, seer of the past. The mists around them light up with scenes of a great battle of a bygone age, Thor locked in bloody combat with a group of Frost Giants.

“Thor is a great warrior,” Urd says, “Perhaps the greatest Asgard has ever known. With Mjolnir in his hand, he has laid waste to armies and defended Asgard and Midgard alike on countless occasions. Yet with this power came pride. Young Thor became conceited and impetuous. The worship of humankind made him forget his place was to serve them and protect them, not to rule them. You, Odin King, decreed that were he to be a champion of Midgard as you intended, he had to know what it was to be human. He had to know humility.”

Odin nodded solemnly.

“Thor’s pride was a failing on my part as a father…”

“Your feelings do not concern us,” continued Urd, “We are here to tell you of Thor. His skill in battle instilled violence in his nature. When angered, his rage brought storms to the sky, unrest to the sea and blood to the earth. This you also wished to temper. But be warned, Odin King, that the past may be hidden, or even forgotten, but it never goes away. Pride and wrath are in Thor’s nature still, and may yet be his undoing.”

Urd stepped back, and the images of old battle faded. Next to step forward was Verdand, seer of the present. As she brought the thread in her hands closer to Odin, the image of Thor on a podium, surrounded by cheering crowds, came into focus.

“Thor has emerged as a hero of Midgard once more,” said Verdand, “But in this new age there are many champions, as a few mortals acquire great powers and use them for good or ill. Already, they find themselves at odds with one another, and Thor is part of this conflict. Two factions of heroes have formed, and so focused are they on each other that they are blind to the gathering threats around them.”

Verdand withdrew, and the tableau of Thor’s current actions dissipated. Third and last to step forward was the most feared of all the Norns: Skuld, seer of the future.

“I knew you would come, Odin King, for I saw it. I see it all.”

The image Skuld produced in the mist was more ambiguous than what Urd or Verdand had brought forth. It was an image of Thor’s face – his helmet cast aside, his hair in disarray – with a look of horror and realization in his eyes. It was an expression of despair.

“Darkness awaits in Thor’s future,” Skuld declared, “His past faults and present complacency shall each play their part in the turmoil yet to come. As will you, Odin King. Those Thor loves shall be his downfall. The discovery of that which has been kept secret shall be his ruin. The shadow of death lingers near…”

“What danger awaits my son?” Odin interrupted, “How can I avert this fate? You have to tell me!”

The Three Norns simply laughed.

“We do not have to tell you anything, Odin King.”

“You do not rule us.”

“We answer to forces far beyond what even your all-seeing eye can comprehend.”

The thread faded, the images of Thor's life disappeared into the night, and the Norns broke their circle.

"You may leave now."

Odin did not protest. He knew better than to do so. Mounting his faithful steed, Sleipnir, Odin reluctantly set off back to Asgard, leaving the Norns behind.

“Odin King is haunted by the poor judgements he has made through his reign,” stated Urd.

“And now he fears Thor is to be punished for his indiscretion,” added Verdand.

“Poor Odin,” sighed Skuld, as the three sisters vanished into the mist once more, “If only he knew what fate has in store for him…”

 

[Belvedere]

“You know Bullseye once upon a time I used to be somebody in this town, my name actually carried a little bit of weight, look at me now… I’m a shadow of my former self” said the impassioned Slaughter as he paced up and down the room as he spoke waving his newly purchased cane around as he did so. “So can you imagine what it’s like to have to kiss that fat bastard’s ring every month? Can you imagine what it’s like having these meatheads with super-powers being treated with more respect than me? I’ve been running these streets since Fisk was in diapers.”

“You do realise I’m an assassin not a psychiatrist don’t you?” Bullseye said sarcastically with a smile.

“Alright wise guy, I’ll come right out with it, I want you to kill Wilson Fisk” the smile on Bullseye’s face disappeared instantly and was replaced with a look of sheer bemusement, he didn’t believe that Slaughter had actually just spoken those words; Slaughter knew taking a hit out on the Kingpin of Crime was like signing your own death warrant, even if Fisk was killed it wouldn’t solve the old man’s problems anyway, it would just create more. “I’m willing to pay you 50 million dollars to do it.”

You couldn’t ever mistake Bullseye for a loyal man, despite the fact he had been Wilson Fisk’s “Employee of the Month” for the past year or so he would happily take the job, but it would be bad for business. The current status quo was good for everyone, without an undisputed Kingpin there would be a mad scramble for the throne; the last thing New York needed right now was a gang war.

“You don’t want to open this can of worms Slaughter, believe me...”

Something was fishy about this, Bullseye could feel it; where did the relatively small-time Slaughter, who used to be such a tight fisted old goat, get enough money all of a sudden to hand out 50 million dollars as if it was pocket change? Something definitely wasn’t right, he hadn’t realised it until now but Slaughter had been a lot more talkative than he remembered him, it was almost as if he was stalling. “I’m serious Bullseye, he’s crossed me for the last t-“

“How much are they paying you Slaughter?” Bullseye said coldly.

“I don’t understand” said the elderly man feigning ignorance, he could tell by the assassin’s steely gaze he suspected something was going on. Slaughter grabbed his cane and pressed what seemed to be a panic button, which didn’t go unnoticed by Bullseye.

Bullseye leapt from Slaughter’s chair and grabbed the old man by his lapels, he slammed the old man’s head against his own desk and held him down; grabbing a stapler and opening it up, holding it above the head of the whimpering Slaughter menacingly.[FONT=&quot]
[/FONT]
“Tell me who you’re working for old man.”

Once again the elderly man feigned ignorance and denied having any knowledge of what the assassin was talking about. Bullseye shook his head angrily and slammed the stapler down against one of Slaughter’s ears, pinning it to the table.

“You know, I’m surprised you never thought about getting your ears pierced before now, it really suits you.”

Bullseye lifted the stapler up again and held it above the old man’s head threateningly again; he wasn’t sure what he was going to staple down this time, maybe eyelid? But before he had the chance to Slaughter spoke up. “F-f… f-fine… I’ll tell you, I’m being blackmailed by… I’m working for…”

From behind Bullseye the doors to Slaughter’s office burst open and several heavily armed men stormed in.

“SHIELD...”

Bullseye grinned and rubbed his hands with satisfaction.

“God I’m going to enjoy this.”

 

[Watchman]

After Libra's little show at the bar he had left the patron's instruction on where to meet them. Only two were intrested the two names that he called out. They were taking the one name Mike's car. They were heading to Slaughter Swamp.

"So, you actually believe what he said, mate?"

"What's that accent? English?"

"Austrailian."

"Oh...well do I believe? I don't know. I'm just curious."

"Curious? The man set the bartender on fire and then ask us to come out to the middle of the swamp."

"Well now that you put that way. Ummm, why are you here?"

"Personal." He didn't want to tell the man that he was intrested on how Libra used the same powers that he had. The car stopped at a cabin bordering the swamp.

"This is the place. Hey you ever see the Evil Dead?"

"Not now," he pushed the door open. It looked like an ordinary cabin. A rocking chair was moving in a corner. "Hello, Libra?" The two moved closer which stopped moving. The door slammed behind them, they both jumped.

"Good, you came."

"We came." Mike said which Libra ignored. He turned his back and went for a back door.

"Follow me to the revolution." They both followed. They found themselves on a deck that was sinking into the swamp.

"Hey, Mr. Libra, what's the deal. I'm more of a mutant freedom fighter than anything, what do you want with me?"

"John, all are welcome under my group. Whether you be mutant, human, or alien, all are welcome."

"And who do you fight for?"

"Why Evil, of course. Now our you familiar with the legend of Cyrus Gold?"

"No."

"I know..."

"Cyrus Gold was said to have been killed in this swamp but it transformed him." He tap the pointed end of his spear against the deck. There was rumbling coming from the swamp. Something was coming out.

"Born on Monday, christiened on Tuesday, married on a Wednesday..."

"I think I should go," said Mike who looked ill.

"Don't go." Libra held out his staff which Mike tripped over into the swamp. He struggled to get out.

"Help me!"

"Took ill on Thrusday," he held out the bladed end which Mike tried to grabbed but only cut his hands, "grew worst on Friday," something grabbed onto Mike's leg and pulled him down under the water. "Died on a Saturday. Buried on Sunday. That is the tale of Solomon Grundy. Meet our second member of our ever growing army."