The "From The Pages Of..." Comics Universe RPG

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[Jono Starsmore]

N i t e - O w l
From the Pages of....Season I

​

Every day I try to engage in as much excersize as possible. God knows I've gained weight over the years ; but perhaps that's just coming with age. No. Being old is just a state of mind, nothing else. There's no way in hell I'm going to end up being an old washed up crimefighter, getting killed by mindless thugs in an alleyway just because I had arthritis.


Dan Dreiberg perched himself on a steel bar, down in the lower grounds of his house ; his position very similar to that of an owl's. Yet, he was not in his costume -- he was only garbed in a pair of black breifs, revealing his tone, yet not muscular features. Adjacent to the bar was another, and then another right after that. He wasn't too much of a rooftop jumper, but he knew such excersize sessions would improve his mobility exponentially.

Suddenly, he dropped from the bar, as if he were going to swoop down on his prey, but his hands caught on to the bar across from him, allowing him to complete a quick rotation to gain momentum -- maybe too much momentum.

As he released his hands from the bar, he was thrown high into the air, completing an upward parabola. This was not what he had in mind. His chest came crashing down on the third bar.

"HYUUKKK!"

It had knocked the breathe out of him in extreme proportions, sending him falling from the steel bar, and onto the padding below. Dan just stared upward as he lay there, the pain in his chest intense. As it started to cease, he stood up, taking deep breath's of oxygen through his nostrils and into his lungs, releasing out of his mouth.

"Well...that was better than last time.."

As I've started to train harder...to gain more stamina, agility, and strength, the process has been nothing short of aggravating. But I continue on, and each day I can tell that each excersize is getting easier. Patience, as they say, is a virtue. And Owl's have the most patience of them all. If I was going to face what was out there, I had to be ready. Sure, my gadgetry would get me out of most situations, but that meant nothing if the wielder of such weapons had nothing but a beer belly and night vision goggles...​

​

​

 

[Keyser Soze]

Angel rolled over in his bed, flicking his head as he did so, sheets rolled into a sweaty mass on the floor.

He was turning around in a circle in a crop field. The full moon shone down on his head, illuminating him in the pitch black. The air was still, and the only sound was the whistling of the crop, which he now saw to be corn. He took a step forwards, and then he heard it. A rustling from somewhere in the corn. He froze, instinct taking over. If his heart could beat he was sure it would be pounding against his chest, any blood frozen in his veins.

"Who's there?" he whispered.​

The darkness that lurked behind the crops, beyond the moonlit safety of the clearing where Angel stood, was deep, impenetrable. But from within that sea of dark, a pair of eyes appeared, glowing a bright, burning red.

"Someone like you, Angelus..."

The silky voice was at once soothing, and laced with menace.

"Someone who walks in the night, forever on the outside. And you are on the outside, Angelus. The people you call your friends, they are not like you. As much as you would like to be, you will never again be like them. It is time to stop living in denial. You belong out here, in the dark. With me."

 

[Carnage27]

Land of the Green Sun-Part 3

We celebrate as we head back to our subterranean home. Our first real battle has been a success, and hopefully that creep spreads the word that scum do not control this city anymore.

"Dude, Donny, you totally knocked that guy's teeth out," Mikey laughs as he gives Don a high five.

"Yea, but did ya see how I tossed my guy into a dumpster," Raph strikes back and punches Mike gently on the shoulder.

Don looks at me, "I can't believe he pulled a gun. Quick moves, Leo. I bet we'll have to get used to dodging bullet fire."

"Yes, we should see if Master Splinter has any techniques for us."

I've always been more serious than my brothers. Sure I joke around with them, but not to the extent of the other three. It comes with having the burden of leadership on my shoulders. I have to look after them. Anyone of their failures in a fight is mine, but mine is not theirs. Our success or shortcomings will come back to me, and only me.

I pull on an ordinary looking pipe on the sewer wall, which proceeds to slide open, revealing our home.

Time to tell Splinter about our battle.
​

 

[Batman]

They're selling postcards of the hanging
They're painting the passports brown
The beauty parlor is filled with sailors
The circus is in town​

A pair of detectives sit across from one another on the edge of New York's Harlem District. They had just come from the upper west side of the neighborhood, where neighbors of an essentric young man had been complaining of foul smells and condemnation, with the front doors being jammed into a lock. The landlord had finally been forced to call them after two days of constant harassment. In truth, the detectives had figured it was routine. A guy nobody particularly liked decides to kill himself and locks his doors behind him before committing the deed. Simple enough.

Simple enough for Harlem.

But despite twenty years' difference between both men, and the number of homicides they had investigated, what they saw when they arrived on the scene had shaken them both to the core. They had been silent the entire car ride to The Gunga, a restraunt they frequently visited between daily and nightly patrols. And even when it came time to order... neither men had forged the courage to speak. Thirty minutes into their now cold meal, one of them finally decided to speak up.
"Didn't I order eggs?"

His partner looked up, from drifting in and out of focus. "W-What?"

"I think I ordered eggs. And bacon. This is soup."

"You mean you just now noticed that?"

The detective looked down into his soup. "I haven't, uh... I haven't really been paying attention."

More silence loomed over the two. The waitress passed. The detective with the wrong order contemplated speaking up, but he knew that even if he did, he wouldn't have the stomach to eat. Not with what he had just seen.

"What are we gonna tell the Hirsch?"

"Screw what we're gonna tell the Captain. I'm still tryin' to figure out what to tell myself."

The detective's words seemed faint, as his partner looked over, staring at what lied just outside the window. People were going about their daily lives, out there. Regular citizens, just oblivious to the absolute horror that had befallen upon their desolate and discreet part of town. Kids were with their parents, a kindly old couple were walking their dog... both sets of individuals all smiling, without a single care in the world. And all the detective could see was the blood. The ounces upon ounces of blood splattered upon a painter's walls, as if settled atop a grand, twisted canvas.

Here comes the blind commissioner
They've got him in a trance
One hand is tied to the tight-rope walker
The other is in his pants​

"Well... let's think this out, at least. Give us somethin' to work with."

The detective's partner turned back to his superior, and sighed. "I dunno, Dave. I dunno what to make outta what we saw. Anything else come in about the victims?"

"Besides what we already knew? No. Same details... young guy, mid-twenties. Had a girlfriend, probably around the same age. They didn't live together, as far as anyone knows. Worst part about it is, she was expecting."

The partner shook his head. "Jesus. Just... Jesus. That's a real shame."

"Yeah. A real shame."

Grabbing his wallet, the superior laid down a twenty for both meals, and grabbed his coat.

"Listen, we might aswell head back to the station. I don't feel comfortable talking about this stuff in public, y'know?"

The partner grabbed his coat, aswell, following the superior towards the front door. The waitress smiled at them.

"You boys have a good day, y'hear?"

The two nodded, in acknowledgment, before finally heading out. The partner took in a deep breath of fresh air, as they walked along the pavement.

"Yeah. Yeah, I don't blame ya, there. Anyone gets word of this, the tabloids would have a field day. We don't need that kinda publicity around these parts."

"Tabloids aren't exactly the folks I'm worried about gettin' word of this, Al."

The partner looked over, confused. "What'dya mean?"

The superior shrugs. "Ah, nothin'. I guess. Just a bad feelin' in my gut."

"Paranoia?"

"After seein' that? Hell yes. Every crook and hood on the streets could have done it, and until we find the truth, there's a chance it could happen again."

The detectives quiet, as they enter a more devastated block of the neighborhood. They almost expect it as a man in tattered, worn clothing approaches them. His hair is messed and greased, and it doesn't look like he's shaved in days. The smell alone is enough to make both detectives cringe, as he comes closer. Immediately, the superior tenses. But the partner speaks up.

"Sorry, pal. Just spent the last of my change."

The homeless man stares at him, for a moment, before looking to the superior.

"Same here. Sorry."

The homeless man is quiet. But eventually, he moves along, carrying a wooden sign on his back. The partner looks back to read it, out of morbid curiosity, only to find a rather unsettling message before him: The End Is Nigh. The superior looks back too, before looking to his partner, who simply shrugs.

"Don't look at me. I didn't paint the thing."

The superior shakes his head, as the two men continue along.

"Let's just get back. The sooner we can report what went on in that apartment, the sooner forensics can get a look and take it off our hands."

"I hear you there, Dave."

What neither men notice is that the homeless man is now standing on the corner, stilled, continuing to eerily stare at the two detectives as they cross the street. He has listened to their entire conversation... and wordlessly, he begins to dwell on the details aswell.

And the riot squad they're restless
They need somewhere to go
As Lady and I look out tonight
From Desolation Row​

 

[Byrd Man]

​

KRASH!

Fire pours out the upper window of Cassanova Frankenstein's mansion as two figures fly out.

One of those figures is me, the other is Ginger Coffee, cable news reporter and target of Frankenstein.

Ginger and I roll down the roof of the mansion's extended porch and right off on to the mansion's manicured lawns.

"Ow." I grumble as I stand up and pop my back.

"Don't move." A voice says, all around me I hear guns cocking.

"Well, I thought you two were dead." Tony P says as his pistol levels on my chest.

"Now I get to do you real personal, my way."

He prepares to pull his trigger, but a sound off in the distance catches his and the rest of the Disco Boy's attention.

"What the?"

WHAM!

A streaking yellow metal object plows into Tony and half the Disco Boys.

I breath a sigh of relief as I help Ginger up and to the car.

"Someone call a cab?" Ebony says as we leap into the back and he peels out into the Central City streets.

"Where to, boss?" Ebony says as he cuts through two lanes of traffic to avoid a slow moving sedan.

"Take us to the police station. Dolan can protect her there."

"Who is this pint-sized Nubian god?"

"Name's Ebony White."

"And you're what? His slave?"

"Shh! Easy with the 'S' word there, sister. Sorry about this, Eb."

"Naah, it's cool. Besides, she's nicer than your usual dates."

"What's the quickest way to get to police headquarters?"

"I can take Cooke Street and then cut across Eisner Lane. We should get there in about five minutes."
​

*************
​

"What's the quickest way to get to police headquarters?"

"I can take Cooke Street and then cut across Eisner Boulevard. We should get there in about five minutes."


From inside his stretch limo, Cassanova Frankenstein smiles cruely as he watches the television in front of him.

"Driver? Head towards Eisner Boulevard and step on it, I have a man in a mask I don't intend to miss."​

 

[Catman_prb]

The darkness that lurked behind the crops, beyond the moonlit safety of the clearing where Angel stood, was deep, impenetrable. But from within that sea of dark, a pair of eyes appeared, glowing a bright, burning red.

"Someone like you, Angelus..."

The silky voice was at once soothing, and laced with menace.

"Someone who walks in the night, forever on the outside. And you are on the outside, Angelus. The people you call your friends, they are not like you. As much as you would like to be, you will never again be like them. It is time to stop living in denial. You belong out here, in the dark. With me."

Angel shuddered slightly, backing away from the eyes in the darkness.

"My name is Angel," he said, almost as though to himself "And I walk the path of redemption. As far as I remember that doesn't involve any darkness. Or anything else that you sell,"

 

[Venom160]

My mother always said that I was special, that I was meant for great things. I always wanted to believe her but I always knew in my heart that I would follow in my father's footsteps. It was preordained sense the day I was born I guess, the Watchmaker's son becomes the Watchmaker himself. No the title of "special" always went to the people who could afford it or the people that would quick abuse it. Heh please excuse my rant, im very.....emotional on the subject.

I came to turns with my disgustingly mundane life at an early age and fulfilled the destiny that was assigned to me when my father passed away taking over his watch making and repair business. Surprisingly enough I found I had a knack for it, I could tell what was wrong with a watch just by looking at it. Of course I know now that it wasn't just a knack but.......heh I guess im getting ahead of the story huh? Anyway the work wasn't all that bad and it put food on the table for my mother and me. But even so I still had that craving, that need, to be special. And than I met Dr. Suresh.......

Im sure you all know what happens after that so I won't bore you with the details. All you need to know now is that Gabriel Grey is dead, he died the night my mother had her.....accident. My name is Sylar.......

It's been two years sense I've recovered my lost abilities and in that time alot of things have changed. The sheep now knows of those "special" people now and with that new acceptance has come more public displays of abilities. Needless to say this has made the hunt all that much easier. Oh the gifts that I've gained.....but anyway there's now a negative aspect to this. The company has stepped up their game, literally becoming a liaison to the government! They've been assigned to police our kind, fighting fire with fire and putting me at the top of their most wanted list. But let me assure you, they've suffered more losses at this point than I have. All they've succeeded in doing is make me stronger. Now if you'll excuse me my 5 o'clock just showed up..........

 

[Keyser Soze]

Angel shuddered slightly, backing away from the eyes in the darkness.

"My name is Angel," he said, almost as though to himself "And I walk the path of redemption. As far as I remember that doesn't involve any darkness. Or anything else that you sell,"

"Angel. Hmmm. Ironic, given that your kind are hardly affiliated with the man upstairs."

The voice broke into a mocking chuckle, red eyes gleaming threateningly.

"I know all about your self-righteous path of redemption... Angel. I also know that it is futile. I see the future. I can hear it too. Can't you?"

Tick-tick-tick-tick-tick-tick-tick-tick...

Coming from nowhere, but reverbating everywhere, all around the crop field, came the foreboding sound of a ticking clock.

"The clock is ticking, counting down to the end of times. When that clock reaches midnight, vampyre, any hope of redemption for you will be extinguished. And on that day, you will be faced with a choice: die a futile, pointless death, or accept what you truly are and accomplish great things."

TICK-TICK-TICK-TICK-TICK-TICK-TICK-TICK...

The sound was almost deafening now. But though the voice never raised, never became a shout, it could still be heard above the racket.

"Think about it. We will meet again. The clock is ticking."

And then the ticking, and the eyes, were gone.

 

[Catman_prb]

"Angel. Hmmm. Ironic, given that your kind are hardly affiliated with the man upstairs."

The voice broke into a mocking chuckle, red eyes gleaming threateningly.

"I know all about your self-righteous path of redemption... Angel. I also know that it is futile. I see the future. I can hear it too. Can't you?"

Tick-tick-tick-tick-tick-tick-tick-tick...

Coming from nowhere, but reverbating everywhere, all around the crop field, came the foreboding sound of a ticking clock.

"The clock is ticking, counting down to the end of times. When that clock reaches midnight, vampyre, any hope of redemption for you will be extinguished. And on that day, you will be faced with a choice: die a futile, pointless death, or accept what you truly are and accomplish great things."

TICK-TICK-TICK-TICK-TICK-TICK-TICK-TICK...

The sound was almost deafening now. But though the voice never raised, never became a shout, it could still be heard above the racket.

"Think about it. We will meet again. The clock is ticking."

And then the ticking, and the eyes, were gone.

"Angel! ANGEL!" Fred screamed, pounding on his chest. His eyes opened, and he sat bolt upright in the bed, sending the small woman to the floor. He looked around to see Wesley bending down to pick her up, Gunn and Lorne watching from the door.

"What...what happened?" he muttered.

"Whatever dreams you were having, they must've been scarier than Gunn with his facepack on," Lorne said, leaning against the door frame.

"You said you'd never tell anyone about that!" he protested.

"What happened?"

"Angel, man, you were screaming,"

 

[Jono Starsmore]

N i t e - O w l
From the Pages of....Season I


​

The days have been getting much darker. First, there were gruesome attacks that had been popping up everywhere around the city. People, found with their scalps....missing. Nothing else was taken from them. Hell, not even the scalp itself. I couldn't help but to wonder what, or who could do such a task...and so easily. Was there someone else out there? Someone equal to the epitome of the only true "super" hero, which was Dr. Manhattan himself? The last time I saw him, he had vanished in a separation of atomic particles. God only knew where he was now. But one thing was for sure....we needed him.

Rorschach was still doing his vigilante thing ; and brutally at that. But yet I still questioned: Could he handle what was out there? This....monster? So many questions, and so little answers. I had to do something. I had to investigate, whether it be on my own, or not. I would wait until the sun made it's way to set for the night. That's when the owl's make their way to their perch...watching, waiting.

After engaging in his daily excersize, Dan made his way up the loading ramp of Archie, his electro-magnetic powered flying machine. It was his pride and joy -- even fit with a surround sound stereo system, which was always playing his big band, jazz favorites ; and of course, a coffee machine. That was not all it was equipped with, however. Archie had many offensive and defensive weapons, including a device that produced a thick fog, along with a flame thrower, and what Dan liked to call...the Screecher function, that produced a high-pitched sonic sound, that could even bring a man with ear-muffs to his knees.

Upon reaching the main cockpit, he turned the power on. Lights flickered and danced along the console as the dim lights inside illuminated the ship. The police scanner that was installed in the console also came on...only fuzz and small talk for now. The law enforcement of this city was scared....really scared. They didn't know what they were dealing with. Hell, neither did Dan ; which was why he needed to get in touch with an old friend. Rorschach. With his keen investigative techniques, Dan knew he had to have picked up a lead...or something. And Dan was pretty sure his old partner needed a new grappling hook. Dreiberg's new model of the device was actually much more efficient. One could even swing rooftop to rooftop with that thing, though he was sure Ror would not use it for such purposes.

Who knew. Any minute Rorschach could pop out of nowhere, spooking the hell out of Dan like he always did.

Hopefully the locksmith did a good job with my front door deadbolts. Being the Jew that I am...I'm not willing to pay another benjamin to get those things installed. If Ror was going to sneak up on me like always, hopefully he'd do it the old fashioned way...and knock. But knowing him, he'd probably just crash through a skylight, speaking in that monotone voice of his. "Got any cereal? Hungry..."

Well now that I think about it, I don't think he'd ask at all. I'd probably walk in my kitchen only to find him with his mask half off, and devouring my corn pops like an animal.​

 

[RGDurant]

Darkman slowly opened his eyes from dreamless sleep, and found himself sprawled out on the garbage strewn floor. It crossed his mind that he may have fell out of his chair and was too out of it to notice, but now awake, he noticed a faint sensation on his left hand, he looked to see a large rat gnawing at his bandages, it's nose full of the incentive aroma of cooked flesh and muscle. Peyton swatted the little scavanger away, sending it running of to hide in an empty pizza box. Not quickly however, just before it reached it's hiding place, the tabby pounced on the rodent.

Darkman watched his cat tear the small creature asunder with teeth and claws, not blinking once, he visualized himself as the cat and some nameless scumbag as the helpless mouse.

This city had many rats, so many rats, they outnumber the mousers ten to one. Rats were not limited to only dwell in the gutters and garbage pits, in crime, in govenment, in science, they were everywhere I look, picking and chewing away at the carcasses of innocent people.


Averting away from his bloodlust, Peyton stood and dusted himself off, coughed hard on particles of dirt and cat dander, too much musty breath, he wanted fresh air. Darkman retrieved a fresh roll of bandages from a drawer, and climbed up the metal stairs to the roof.


A dreary afternoon, the clouds were dark grey with intention of more heavy rain to come. It couldn't have been much later than five in the afternoon, that was good, it wouldn't be long before nighttime. Peyton sat on a grate and started replacing the chewed up bandages on his left hand, while thinking of tonight's plan. This time he needed to go to Brooklyn, he would walk as usual, to a parking complex, where hopefully later that night, he'd return home with $20.000. It was of course blood money, and he would surely get his own hands bloody as well, but he needed it, he needed funding for his research.

 

[Johnny Blaze]

[YT]XjRDcOW7Xp8[/YT]

"Where'd you say you picked this little gem up", Mal asked as he strode off of the bridge of Serenity, next to Zoe with Wash in tow behind them.

"Actually I found it."

"That right", Mal glanced back to Wash.

"It is, sir. Wash stumbled on it a few days ago. An encrypted Alliance transmission. I was able to decrypt it and it was part of the data on the message."

"Could be a trap", Mal replied as he glanced at the info on the datapad in the palm of his hand.

"What I was thinking too at first, but we haven't been out here long enough to warrant that kind of attention", Zoe replied as they stepped down the stairs leading to the main galley.

"Least not yet", Mal sent a smirk her way as he moved to the head of the large table used for dining and meetings. The rest of the crew of Serenity was sitting about the table. Zoe and Wash moved to take a seat, and all eyes were on Mal, save for River who was staring out blankly.

"Well folks, I know the past couple weeks have been rough, but our luck's about to change", spoke Mal as he placed the datapad down on the table.

"Got a big job that'll hit the Alliance where it'll hurt 'em the most. Namely their wallet."

 

[Batman]

Now the moon is almost hidden
The stars are beginning to hide
The fortunetelling lady
Has even taken all her things inside​

Darkness dwells upon that same suburban neighborhood, the moonlight resting carelessly upon empty streets. Stray trash blows across the concrete, dancing in the wind, illuminating a part of New York that seldom gets praised among the travel cards and TV commercials that are used to advertise the so-called luxurious metropolis. But it's the people that are reeled in by this farce that don't see the ugly side that the city's nightlife has to offer. They don't see the death, starvation, decay, and raping of all remaining moral compass left within the denizens of a society only half intuned to the world around them.

He, however, does.

That same scrap of paper flowing in the breeze is slammed onto the pavement with a steady crunch, as a simple unmarked pair of shoes walk slowly across the narrow pavement. Their owner, a tall and silent figure, moves through the shadows as if more comforted by them than the now absent daylight, as his hands remain in the pockets of a long leather trenchcoat that is slightly stained with wear. He reaches up to keep his thick fedora in place atop his head, as the wind blows, giving an eerie greeting to him from the quiet neighborhood shrouded in darkness. He is not hesitant, but rather persistent, as he scans the apartment complexes to his side.

Finally, he stops at one and stands to a still, casually taking in the detail before him. The establishment is worn and rusted from the outside, it's stairs covered in dust and dirt. But overall, it remains nicer than the majority he's seen on the walk here. He makes his way to the entrance, and quietly creeps up them, ready for any horrors that await him... and flooding his mind with nightmares far worse than anything that can. By the time he has reached the door of the top floor third apartment, he has experienced a trauma so fierce it almost unnerves him. But even so, he is ready to face what is inside.

Seeing that the door is boarded shut, which is more than likely the work of the unnerved landlord, he reaches up to grab the tightly nailed-down wooden planks one by one. And effortlessly, he rips them from their perch. As a result, the door creeps open, revealing more shadows of the night. He pushes the door further inward, and steps inside it's hollow darkness. Pitch blackness surrounds him, provoking little more than a perplexed stroke of his chin.

"Nurh."

Reaching into his pocket, he retrieves a small flashlight, and instantly turns it on. What greets him through the stray ray of light emitting from the device is enough to show him what he's looking for: A pale, motionless hand lying atop the thickly stained carpet. Bending down, he inspects it, and flashes the light onto the face it belongs to. A young male with long, dark hair. Hadn't shaved in a period of two weeks, judging by the just thinning beard. Letting the hand go, the figure in the darkness moves the light across the room. And what he sees intrigues him, where others would be horrified.

Across the floor lies a tossed and messy pattern of organs, pulled from the two respective bodies lying in the corner. Blood covers most of the furniture, though obviously now dried. The apartment itself, he notices, now stinks of apparent death. And that's what intrigues him most. Only death. No gunpower or chemical residue. The victims were each stabbed to death, their organs cut open and scattered across the ground. But what makes it even more distinct is that the male's skull is split open, as the bloodflow is more fresh from beneath that area. The killer's trademark, perhaps? He isn't sure. All he knows is that he's lacking an apparent motive for such a crime. And when the mystery was supposed to become hollow, it has instead deepened.

"Hurm."

All except for Cain and Abel
And the hunchback of Notre Dame
Everybody is making love
Or else expecting rain​

As the figure inspects the living room, laced with blood and the remains of two corpses, he catches something out of the corner of his eyes. A faint figure in the darkness of the hallway's bedroom. Half expecting an attacker, he quickly shines the flashlight towards it... only to realize that it's nothing more than a large, tarp covered canvas. Realizing the victim was a painter, the figure looks to the corpse, then to the canvas, even more piqued by his own curiosity.

Placing the flashlight on a nearby table, so it's ray is still shining upon the hallway, the figure moves to the bedroom, approaching the tarp. He expects to find nothing, naturally... but a cold feeling of uncertainty guides him to the canvas anyway. Slowly, he grabs the tarp, and pulls it with a strong grip. What's revealed underneath at first seems like nothing - a simple, if not overtly norbid painting, dipicting a corpse. But upon further inspection, the figure begins to realize that what he is looking at is nothing ordinary at all...

Spoiler

Swiftly, the figure looks back, as his flashlight slowly spins across the table it had lied on, due to a poor balance. After a couple of rolls, the crude object drops to the floor, illuminating the male's corpse. The figure peers at it, in surprise, before looking back at the painting. It is of the same incident.

The figure steps into the light shifting from the windows, revealing a white mask covering his entire face. Dark inkblots highlight the areas where the eyes and mouth should be, for a moment, before strangely shifting themselves into a more scattered pattern. The figure looks to the corpse, and to the painting once more. The deceased male was a painter, and his own death was depicted down to every last grim detail. It should be impossible, especially given that the death was no suicide. Someone wanted it to seem that way. Someone...

The figure known as the vigilante Rorschach then promptly leaves the apartment, and walks back onto the streets, this new information fresh upon his mind. Someone in New York knows what happened. And that someone, Rorschach surmises, will meet him soon enough.

Someone. Must learn who.

And the Good Samaritan, he's dressing
He's getting ready for the show
He's going to the carnival tonight
On Desolation Row​

 

[Jono Starsmore]

From The Pages Of....Season I

​

The sun had set, and Dan began to suit up. According to the police scanners, there was a murder downtown ; and gruesome at that. Surprisingly, the chainmail armor he wore was actually fitting better than usual. Heh, not bad Dan. Or perhaps it was just the confidence that he seemed to always have when wearing the suit ; hiding the man behind a mask and night-vision goggles. Archie would have to wait tonight. Plus, he wanted to try out his new grappling device, that was attached to his wrist.

Making his way down the subway tunnel, he found an exit and peeked through the manhole, making sure nobody was around, before leaping out and quickly releasing the grappling hook from his wrist.

"Wh-Whoaaaaaa!"

Even if someone had seen him, they would have been in awe at the speed of his ascension, which zipped him upward with incredible speed, his cape snapping in the wind as he landed on a nearby rooftop in a tumbling roll. The cable quickly retracted back into it's home, it's magnetized, studded end connecting with a snap.

Jeez, this thing is wicked.

The duplex wasn't far from his current location, so he decided ; though a little wary of the idea, to scale the rooftops. At least he knew that if he did happen to stumble off of one, he had a hell of a grappling hook to catch him. Blue eyes peered through the nightvision goggles at his route, before beginning a quick sprint toward the next rooftop. With a quick push of his legs, he leapt across a dark alleyway and actually landed such a feat.

This is kinda' fun...

"Oh, oh god, please no. Please."

The helpless plead caught his ears immediately. In fact, it was coming from the alleyway he'd just scaled in a single bound. Immitating the ways of an owl, he perched at the side of the building, able to see everything below him. Four men, ripping a fourteen year-old's clothe's to shreds, while at the same time, threatening her with their puny switch blades.

Finally, at the right moment, he swooped downward, bracing his fall with one of the thugs, sending him to the ground. The girl ran for dear life of course, which is what Dan wanted. Now, he had three punks to deal with. He could smell the liquor on their breath, and hear the rattling of prescription medicine in their pockets. They were definitely doped up on something, probably ecstasy -- That would explain their sick, perverse attack on the girl. Horny as a dog in heat.

One of them ran at him, slashing wildly with his small knife, as the other two came for him as well. Deciding to deal with the armed one, he grabbed his wrist, snapping it violently as the kid screamed in the most intense pain. Another was coming from behind, who was dealt with quickly as Dan performed a roundhouse kick to his throat.

Last, but not least, the biggest one of them all came for him. Why was it that the biggest guy of the group always came for you last? Dan pondered the irony before grabbing the guy by the shirt. He took a punch to the face, which he expected, but he knew the guy wasn't going to expect this. His firm grip remained as he released his grappling device, sending both of them zipping up into the air, and landing on the rooftop above. Dan, now on top of the guy, delivered several punches to the man's face, feeling the crunch and breakage of his teeth before pulling him up by the shirt to face him.

"I know you were the leader of that little quartet. So why don't you tell me who you're working for?"

"**** you man! Who the **** are you anyway? A Batman wannabe?!", he said, spitting out blood as he did so.

The guy obviously knew nothing. Just some punk. Dan had the inquisition that he may know something about the murder, but an inexperienced piece of crap like this couldn't be responsible for such a thing, or even know anything for that matter.

"I'm Nite Owl. And now that you mention it, Batman is damn cool. So yeah, I'm a wannabe'.", Dan said, before lifting the rather heavy guy off of the ground, and throwing him into the wall of the building adjacent to them, sending him falling on top of his other three friends.

Recently I've been more remorseless in my crime-fighting. Maybe I picked it up from Rorschach ; or maybe I've realized that it's what the city needs. These thugs need to fear someone, and they will. God knows they're scared as hell of Ror, which is why I've been more brutal. No more tying these thugs up, waiting for the corrupt police to deal with them. It was time to show them that we are not heroes...but vigilante's, taking matters into our own hands. Whether we have to break a wrist, or break a spine..we'll get the job done. I also got compared to Batman recently, which was pretty cool.

-Dan Dreiberg



​

 

[Byrd Man]

​

Ebony's hitting turning the corners and weaving through traffic like he's old Ben Burns. Dolan and police HQ is about a mile away and getting closer.

WHAM!

Well, it was getting closer.

Out of nowhere a black limo slams into the taxi and spins us.

"Get down!" I yell at Ginger as I push her down into the floor.

Ebony's stomping on the breaks and griping on the wheel to keep the taxi from getting out of his grasps.

"Come on girl, don't fail me now." He mutters under his breath as the taxi comes to screeching hault on the street.

"Who was that jackass that hit me?!" Ebony says as he prepares to get out of the taxi.

"I'm so sorry." A voice says, a gold plated gun pokes Ebony in the nose and pushes him back into his seat.

"I hope you have insurance." Cassanova Frankenstein says as one of his boys rips the door open and pulls the three of us out of Ebony's taxi.

"You almost had me, Spirit. But your friend betrayed you."

One of Frankenstein's henchmen grabs Ginger and pulls something out of her shirt pocket.

A cell phone.

"So that's why...how they...you crazy dame!"

Yes, I said dame. I'm that ticked off.

"And now Ginger Coffee's biggest story, will be her last."

I hear all the guns and pistols cock.

"Do something, Spirit. You're the masked avenger."

"I did something! It was you who put this on national news!"

"Children, children. Please." Frankenstein says with a shotgun aimed in our direction.

"You'll have all of eterneity to figure out who did what. Now."

"FREEZE!" A voice says out of nowhere.

Just like that, Central City's SWAT team pops out of nowhere with they're guns on Frankenstein and his men. Commissioner Dolan is at the front.

"Get down on the ground!" Dolan says as he points his pistol at Frankenstein.

"Think we don't watch the tube, buddy?"
​

*************
​

Wildwood Cemetery

Ebony and I sit on the couch in my pad. My pad being underneath my family crypt in Wildwood Cemetery. Strange place to live, I know. But it's where a dead man would spend his time.

"Turn it up, man."

"There she is. Wonder what she'll say."

"A chick like that, she'll probably burn ya."

"Naah. I think she kinda had the hots for me."

"So, Ginger. After that exciting rescue and chase, tell us what is the Spirit really like?"

"Well, Penny. The Spirit means well, but I think he should leave the crime fighting to the professionals."

Ebony busts out laughing.

"Oh yeah, she's got the hots for you."

"Aw, shaddup."
​

End​

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

Epilogue
​

"Frankenstein, you got a visitor." The prison guard calls to the cell.

The door opens and a man and a woman walk in, their faces in the shadows.

"You failed me."

"I was so close. I almost pulled the trigger." Frankenstein says as he stifles a cough.

"Close does not count."

"Please!"

Frankenstien throws himself to the floor and grabs the man's pants leg.

"I can handle jail, but not this."

The man sighs and snaps his fingers.

"Ms. Floss."

The woman pulls a syringe out and stabs Frankenstein in the neck.

"There's the cure. Because you failed me, as soon as you are out of jail. Leave Central City and never return. If you do, I will kill you. And I won't be as kind the next time. None of this injecting you with a disease, next time I'll kill you with my own two hands. The only reason I kept you alive was so you could kill The Spirit and you failed miserably."

The man reaches down and pulls the syringe out of Frankenstein's neck, blood drips off the syringe and on the man's purple gloves.

"This town is no longer your town, you gave it up while you were rotting in jail. I have taken it. It belongs to me."​

​

"The Octopus."​

 

[Carnage27]

I walk into our home first, and find it completely dark, save for a few candles that surround our father.

"Come here...my sons."

We sit obediently in front of Splinter, and await his words.

"You have had your first battle, and your first taste of the evil that inhabits the surface world, no?"

I stand and give a modest bow, "Yes, master, we have. There were six street thugs, and they were attacking a young woman. We fought well. Everyone did their part."

A look of pride sweeps across Splinter's face, "Very good. But there will be more trials ahead of you. Street thugs are a problem, but they are not the true problems of this world, but they will wait for a later time."

He stands up and leans gently on his staff, "For now it is time to rest."

 

[Catman_prb]

"Angel! ANGEL!" Fred screamed, pounding on his chest. His eyes opened, and he sat bolt upright in the bed, sending the small woman to the floor. He looked around to see Wesley bending down to pick her up, Gunn and Lorne watching from the door.

"What...what happened?" he muttered.

"Whatever dreams you were having, they must've been scarier than Gunn with his facepack on," Lorne said, leaning against the door frame.

"You said you'd never tell anyone about that!" he protested.

"What happened?"

"Angel, man, you were screaming,"

2 Hours Later

Gunn walked into the hotel, pulling of his drenched raincoat and chucking it on the stand.

"Well, there's been no word on the street of any demon gettin' into people's dreams," he announced to the world at large.

Fred poked her head out of the office, and Wesley could be seen flicking through some ancient books with a distinctly frustrated look upon his face.

"We can't find any demon that's like the thing Angel described," she said, folding her arms and pouting a little.

"Where is he?" Gunn asked, a frown on his face.

"Upstairs trying to sketch the thing," Lorne said, slamming the phone down on the hook. Fred gave him a look.

"Oh, there's no news on the demon end of things either," he explained.

"'Kay, I hate to say this, but what if-"

"He's imagining it?" Wesley supplied, emerging from the office.

"Yeah, a grief kinda thing. I mean, Connor did just die,"

"It may be a possibility," the ex-watcher said thoughtfully.

"But...when has he ever been wrong about this kind of thing before?" Fred asked.

...

Angel brought the pencil back down on the pad of paper for the third time. The very second he put any pressure on it, the lead snapped. He growled and threw both paper and pencil at the wall.

"God dammit!" he shouted.

"Oi, mind me delicate ears,"

Angel turned to look at the speaker.

"...Doyle?" he asked.

"One and the same," Doyle said with a smile.

"But you're dead. Very, very dead," Angel said.

"That I am. Doesn't mean I can't pay you a visit," his old friend said, beaming.

"Why now?" the vampire asked.

"Well the Powers That Be don't have a direct link to you anymore, now that Cordie's in a coma. But this is only a one time kinda thing," he said, nodding his head for emphasis.

"Link? What do they need to show me? Is it about the dream? The Dark Man?" Angel asked, standing up from the bed. Doyle walked over and put his hands on each of his friend's shoulders.

"Let me show you,"

Elsewhere...

The nunnery was deathly silent as the man walked through it, crunching broken glass under his boots. His stick made a loud tapping as it connected with the floor at each step. He walked into the largest room, following the trail of blood that led to an altar. There was a figure there, shrouded in black. The man smiled as he heard the loud crunching of a vampire feeding.

"Drusilla!" he called "how absolutely wonderful to see you again!"

"Ooh, it's the big bad man," she said, licking blood from her lips seductively.

"Indeed it is. I represent Wolfram and Hart, attorneys at law. And boy do I have an offer for you Drusilla, my lovely,"

"The big man's gone loopy," she whispered, gliding towards him.

"Oh, maybe a little. But that's a natural progression. Aren't we all a little...loopy?" he breathed.

"Daddy doesn't like you," she muttered, pressing herself against him.

"No he doesn't," he said "And he doesn't like you either,"

She whimpered a little.

"Cos you've been a bad little girl, haven't you Dru?"

"Yes," she breathed.

"But I'm your Daddy now, and I'm gonna make it all better,"

 

[Byrd Man]

"Well folks, I know the past couple weeks have been rough, but our luck's about to change", spoke Mal as he placed the datapad down on the table.

"Got a big job that'll hit the Alliance where it'll hurt 'em the most. Namely their wallet."

It's quiet for way too long inside the galley. Even Jayne doesn't do his usual griping.

"Well...we're waiting....what's the plan, O'cap'n my cap'n?"

Seeing as how I found the datapad, I have a good idea what Mal's got rolling around in his head.

 

[Catman_prb]

It's quiet for way too long inside the galley. Even Jayne doesn't do his usual griping.

"Well...we're waiting....what's the plan, O'cap'n my cap'n?"

Seeing as how I found the datapad, I have a good idea what Mal's got rolling around in his head.

"Is it gonna involve shootin' a lot of soldiers?" Jayne asked, leaning back in his chair.
"Cos I could really go for some of that about now,"

 

[Gallagher]

JESSICA SANDERS
NEW YORK CITY

I laugh at the man. Who does he think he is. Sure his bullet might have scratched my shoulder, but that's nothing that's gonna slow me down. I'm the strong one, not Niki.

He points his revolvers as me, as the cocky marksman taps the barrels. So he wants to play rough? I'll show him the meaning of that word.

"Yeah I heard about you. The Company is it? They were the ones who tried to get rid of me, the guys who helped Niki try to wipe me out."

I calmly walk towards Ocelot, as apparently most call him, and put my hands up.

"Now here's what's going to happen old timer. I'm going to walk out of here. You're going to watch. And then we're going to laugh about it later when I tear your head from your body."

He loads his two revolvers, readying himself.

I see the ground, where shards of broken glass lay around one of the unconscious guards.

I see myself, Niki fighting desperately to get out.

"Sorry Niki, your life is gonna need to be held on hold for a little while."

I throw myself at the man, grabbing the two barrels of the guns, and bending them downwards, before grabbing each of his arms, and push him back, watching him fly away. The easiness of it all is always the best part.

"Now where were we? Oh yeah, my favorite part. I'm getting the money and walking away."

I glance at the glass one last time, to see Niki banging as if she were trapped inside of it. She shakes her head and shrieks at me as if I'm ruining her life. I'm helping her. Why does she resist.

"Oh shut up b*tch"

Revolver Ocelot

Ocelot felt conciousness slip away for just a moment as he was slammed into a far wall. 'Not yet old dog.' He warned himself, willing himself to his feet. He felt a twinge of pain from his mid-section. 'A few cracked ribs.' He diagnosed, nothing that had stopped him before.

Drawing the company issue tranquilizer gun from his belt he aimed it at the fleeing hostile. "Not yet Ms Sanders."

He fired as she turned toward him, catching her in the neck, the dart burying itself deep in her throat. For one almost panic-inducing second Ocelot thought the dart had had no effect but sure enough the blonde haired vixen fell to the ground with a groan. He walked back over to her body, communicator in hand.

"This is Ocelot, awaiting evac, I have the girl."

"This is agent Jaeger, we'll be with you shortly sir." the voice from the other end called out. He'd delt with Frank Jaeger before. 'Good lad, good soldier.' He thought to himself.

"Good to hear your voice Frank. Time to bring Ms Sanders home."

 

[Johnny Blaze]

It was the first time he had been here, this concrete jungle. Although not as chaotic as Tokyo, New York was an intimidating presence none-the-less. Especially with the growing number of super-powered individuals running around. Part of him wanted to test his skills against some of these supermen, but Storm Shadow put those thoughts out of his mind.

His focus was stricktly on business. The business of vengeance.

It had been many years since his falling out with his family and the Foot. Storm Shadow was shamed and banished, but he was able to turn and focus his outrage. To twist it and use it to drive himself to perfection. And it was no surprise when Storm Shadow quickly became known as one of the world's most dangerous mercenaries in the underground. It was that reputation which brought him to his meeting with a man called Cobra Commander.

The passion in the man's words, and the money in his pocket, swayed Storm Shadow to join his organization, Cobra, as his personal bodyguard and assassin. Since that fateful day, Storm Shadow's infamy has steadly grown as he efficiently dispatched enemies of Cobra around the globe. But still the ordeals of the past haunted him. The hole in his being could not be mended until he regained his honor.

And that meant payback on the two that wronged him. Oroku Saki was a difficult man to find, but, thanks to Cobra Intelligence, Storm Shadow was able to track him down to this city. The Foot was setting up shop in the Big Apple, and Saki was the man leading the clan in it's overseas endeavors.

"You're here, Oroku", Thomas uttered under his breath to himself, as the wind whipped across the rooftop. The chilling bite of the night air seemed to have no affect on the ninja as he gazed out across the city bustling below him.

"I can smell you", he stated in disgust.

"It won't be much longer now, Oroku", stated Storm Shadow to himself as he rose to his feet. Peering over the ledge, the ninja assassin looked down the building at the empty alley street below.

"You're running out of places to hide."

With spectacular grace, Storm Shadow leaped off of the rooftop and threw his grappling hook out towards the opposite building's fire escape.

The hook latched on perfectly, and the ninja silently glided down to the alley below. Upon touching down, Storm Shadow took off into the shadows.
With the stealth of a hunting cat, the Cobra assassin moved invisibly down the small street, heading towards Manhattan...

 

[Byrd Man]

​

​

Interlude
​

Wildwood Cemetery

Ellen Dolan, the commissioner's daughter throws me against the wall and kisses me passionatley.

"What do you say we move this into the bedroom?" She whispers in a husky voice.

"You don't have to tell me twice."

I toss my hat on the floor and take off my shirt and tie as we walk towards my bedroom.

"Wait." She says as I reach up to my face.

"Leave the mask on, it's better this way."

She pushes me on the bed and pounches like a jungle cat, biting my ear and sucking on my neck.

"Slow down, Ellen. We have all night."

She stops and nods. Ellen pulls her shirt up over her head, revealing her bra, made out of red lace. Her blonde hair hangs over her head, hiding her face from me.

I smile and tilt my head back.

"I love you."
​

 

[Keyser Soze]

​

​

Interlude
​

Wildwood Cemetery

Ellen Dolan, the commissioner's daughter throws me against the wall and kisses me passionatley.

"What do you say we move this into the bedroom?" She whispers in a husky voice.

"You don't have to tell me twice."

I toss my hat on the floor and take off my shirt and tie as we walk towards my bedroom.

"Wait." She says as I reach up to my face.

"Leave the mask on, it's better this way."

She pushes me on the bed and pounches like a jungle cat, biting my ear and sucking on my neck.

"Slow down, Ellen. We have all night."

She stops and nods. Ellen pulls her shirt up over her head, revealing her bra, made out of red lace. Her blonde hair hangs over her head, hiding her face from me.

I smile and tilt my head back.

"I love you."
​

The Spirit's hands rise up, caressing Ellen's neck. Gently, he runs his hands through her flowing blonde hair. But as he parts the hair to reveal her face, leaning upwards to move in for a passionate kiss, he is horrified by what he sees hovering over him.

Ellen's face is gone. In its place is a dark, burning countenance brimming with a wretched good cheer. Teeth glimmer bright white, lined up like shark's teeth, and eyes glow with a terrifying red light which seemed to cast all other features into shade.

"Hello, lover."

 

[absonic93]

Revolver Ocelot

Ocelot felt conciousness slip away for just a moment as he was slammed into a far wall. 'Not yet old dog.' He warned himself, willing himself to his feet. He felt a twinge of pain from his mid-section. 'A few cracked ribs.' He diagnosed, nothing that had stopped him before.

Drawing the company issue tranquilizer gun from his belt he aimed it at the fleeing hostile. "Not yet Ms Sanders."

He fired as she turned toward him, catching her in the neck, the dart burying itself deep in her throat. For one almost panic-inducing second Ocelot thought the dart had had no effect but sure enough the blonde haired vixen fell to the ground with a groan. He walked back over to her body, communicator in hand.

"This is Ocelot, awaiting evac, I have the girl."

"This is agent Jaeger, we'll be with you shortly sir." the voice from the other end called out. He'd delt with Frank Jaeger before. 'Good lad, good soldier.' He thought to himself.

"Good to hear your voice Frank. Time to bring Ms Sanders home."

NIKI SANDERS
UNKNOWN LOCATION

Niki Sanders awoke from her bed, gasping as she took in the new sights around her. Where was she, how had she gotten here?

She struggled to lean herself up, but to no avail. Someone had chained her wrists and ankles to the bed forcing the scared Niki to lie back on the uncomfortable pillow.

A man walked up to her, leaning over bed to look her straight in the eyes.

"Ah, Miss Sanders. I'm glad to see you wake up. Now the question is, which Miss Sanders are you?" He gave a small chuckle he finished his question.

"Where am I? What am I doing here?"

The man leaned in closer

"Why Miss Sanders, I'm surprised you don't recognize me. It is me, Mr. Bishop. You know, the man who you talked to two years ago for help before completely disappearing. Unfortunately for you, Miss Jessica couldn't keep quiet and we were able to find you."

Niki relaxed a little bit. She had come here before out of her free will, but hadn't found much help. She had no idea what this company was capable of; maybe they could help her this time for good.

"I'll assume from your relative calmness that you are Nicole Sanders at the moment. Now I assure you that we will do everything in the power to help you."

He smiled.

"But maybe we can make this work for the both of us. Jessica, are you there?"

I stare at him as I flip my head over the pillow.

"Well hello there Mr. Bishop. Seems like you caught me. Either you're actually beginning to do your job well, or Niki's getting old."

Bob gave another smile as he took keys from his hand and unlocked the shackles.

"What are you doing? You do know I'm capable of ripping your head off right now."

That fool. What's he gonna do to keep me from killing the bastard who captured me in the middle of an important mission. That money was going to go a long way.

"I know you're capable of many things Miss Sanders, more than Nicole will ever now. Here, we want to help you unlock your full potential."

I stare at him blankly.

"So what, are you offering me a desk job?"

"Oh Jessica, we have far better use for you. We want to re-employ you considering Nicole is an unreliable agent, we believe you may be the better choice."

He gave one final sinister smile as I felt a small case of the creeps.

"Meet your new partner. Ocelot? Would you please come in?"