The "Heroes vs. Villains" Marvel RPG Season II

[BnKRPG]

Welcome to Season II of the Heroes vs. Villains Marvel RPG.

Last season, seven previous seasons of continuity were wiped out for a brand new rebooted continuity.

The aftermath of the global event known as "House of M" changed the landscape of the Marvel Universe. The world's mutant population, once numbering in the millions, was cut to a fraction of its original number.

Villains took over new leaves. Loki, the Trickster God, was reborn into female form and joined the latest incarnation of Earth's Mightiest Heroes, the Avengers, as members new and old protected Earth from a new variety of threats. Sabretooth, long time member of Magneto's Brotherhood of Mutants, took to the streets of New York and clawed his way up the criminal ladder to be triumphantly crowned the Kingpin of New York. And Norman Osborn, the Green Goblin himself, pulled strings and manipulated to the point of dropping the blame of the Green Goblin mantle on to his son, a recently ressurected Harry Osborn, and taking control of SHIELD.

Now, Season II begins with the Marvel Universe poised a crossroads. Will the heroes of the Marvel U. finally bring justice to those that openly mock it, or will evil win the day? The answer is for you to decide.
​

GAMEMASTERS AND DEPUTIES

• Bkhedr - CO-GAMEMASTER

• Byrd Man - CO-GAMEMASTER

• Optikal - ASSISTANT GAMEMASTER

RULES

• You can choose to be any superhero or supervillain in the Marvel Universe, as long as they:

Are NOT deities, gods, or people such as Galactus. People like Silver Surfer and Thanos are okay, though...


Are true to the personality and abilities of the character. We don't want to see Cyclops rip off a babies' head with his eye beams, or have Dazzler beat up Galactus.

• Don't do anything RANDOM like chopping off board user's heads or what not, unless your a villain chopping off inanimate victims heads, then whatever, go with it, as long as it's not technically RANDOM. Don't kill people without reason. Don't randomly kill NPC's.

• You know your weaknesses and strengths, what you can do or can't. Spider-Man will lose against Thor one on one, but may be able to use his allies to help out or he can run away.

• Don’t kill a PC unless you have a plan to bring them back.
  Don’t kill your character when you quit the RPG, this rob's a person from playing that character.

• If there is a problem between you and another player,
  or if you have question's please talk to one of the GMs at the top of this post

• There should be MINIMAL cussing and swearing in posts.
  There will be NO By-passing the censors. This is a Hype rule, and NO exceptions will be made for the RPG.

• No obscene topics!

What to do in the RPG-

• Act like your character; ASSUME their traits and personality...

• You can form super villain gang’s superhero teams, alliances, the works.

• There can be a number of stories (or arcs) going on at once, using different people.

• There are endless places to go and endless things to do: ENDLESS possibilities so get creative...

• And the most important rule:
  
  Have fun and remember, it's only a game

People who disobey these rules, some more major than the others, will get BOOTED by the GM. If need be a Moderator will be called in.



For more of the ‘rules’ see- RPG Etiquette

ROSTER

For a complete roster, see the Out of Character (OOC) thread



__________________


Heroes VS. Villains Marvel RPG Application​

Screen Name:

Character you would like to play (please include the color and font you plan on using to portray the character):

Powers and Brief Origin (provide at least two sentences):

Group your character is aligned with (if applicable):

Write two complete sentences using proper English grammar. One to explain what you plan to do with the character you've chosen. The other to explain why you've chosen this character. (i.e. What are your goals? Will you be doing anything different with the character than is usually seen?):

Do you have an Instant Messenger? Which one, and what is your screen name?:


Please provide a small sample post with original content in the style that you plan to write your character in (must be at least 3 paragraphs long and contain at least one line of dialogue):

_______________________________________________​

New to RPGing?

• RPG 101

• RPG 101 Review

• RPG Terms and Player Etiquette

 

[Harlekin]

Stilt-Man. A robber who got his hands on an exoskeleton with a ridiculous pair of telescopic legs. Right now, he’s towering over the Royal Bank of Scotland, a couple of bags of money in his armoured hands. It usually falls to Daredevil or Spider-Man to take care of him. He’s strictly street level. Heck, I once heard he was bragging about the day Ms. Marvel collared him.

Yep, Stilt-Man’s an A-grade loser.

Which is why I guess this fitting.

I’m flying over skyscrapers, holding onto a ladder that is hanging from the Mooncopter. It’s the first time I’ve been out in the day in my costume for what must be months. From a billboard, Norman Osborn smiles at me. He’s holding his hands above him in victory, basking in the adoration of millions. He’s Time’s Man of the Year. The Green Goblin.

Really, I should thank him though, seeing as he’s the reason I’m doing this. Watching him be appointed head of S.H.I.E.L.D. made me realise that I needed to step up. To leave the dark alleys and the self-pity behind. The bad guys were starting to win.

I’m getting closer. Stilt-Man’s dealing with the police on the floor, laughing like a cartoon villain. He doesn’t notice me hanging over him. When I’m right above him, I let go of the ladder and let myself fall. My foot connects with Stilt-Man’s face on the way down. He drops one of the bags of money as his jaw pops. It’s a familiar sound. I slam one of my throwing crescents into his metal leg to stop my descent.

“Aaarrrghhh,” he lets out as one of the arms extends, racing down to try and catch the money. The bag is already starting to open up. It’s raining dollars. There’ll be a couple of very happy people downstairs. I reach behind my back and take out another one of my boomerangs and setting into Stilt-Man’s robotic legs, start to climb up. I’m hit by gusts of winds and so I try to keep as close as I can to the criminal’s armour.

Of course, he’s noticed me by now. The hand that shot down to grab the money comes back up and Stilt-Man tries to swing at me. I’m able to dodge the blow narrowly. Grabbing my gun out of its holster, I shoot a grappling hook that fastens itself around Stilt-Man’s wrist. He’s screaming by now, calling me names. Saying he’ll get me and kill me.

That’s what they all say.

When he tries to throw another punch at me, I make the jump, holding onto the line. His fist connects with his leg, which sends him reeling backwards. Using the momentum from the jump, I swing a couple of loops around Stilt-Man’s arm, before using another crescent to attach myself to it. It doesn’t help his attitude.

I make my way up along the arm, which Stilt-Man swings about in the hopes of losing me. When I finally arrive at his shoulder, he turns to look at me, sneering. “The maniac dressed in white.”
I point down to the street.
“Fat chance, freak.”
I smile as I take out another one of my crescents. I hold it up for him to see.
“You’ve heard of me, haven’t you?”
His sneer disappears. I won’t do it, but he doesn’t know that.
“Take us down.”

Stilt-Man nods, his legs start to retract. As we go down, I catch another glimpse of the cover of Time Magazine, of the smile. Can you see me, Osborn? Down on the street, firemen, cops and journalists are waiting. The officers race towards Stilt-Man to cuff him. They try not to look at me. Meanwhile, the eyes of the reporters are on me, but nobody says a word.

Through the cameras, I look at all of New York.

This clear enough for you, Osborn?

The bad guys don’t get to win.

 

[Byrd Man]

​

Utah

The plane touches down on the tarmac runway with a small jolt. The jet rolls to a stop and I make my exit.

"Welcome to Utah, Mr. Stark," a man dressed in a suit says as he meets me on the runway. "I'm Waylon Adams. Project manager here in Utah."

"This is it?" I ask as I look around at the badlands. "Jeez, no wonder they have polygamy here. What else is there to do?"

Adams nods and escorts me off the runway and into an aircraft hangar off to the side of the runway. Our footsteps echo through the empty hangar. In the middle of the empty space is a small briefcase.

"We built it to your specifications, sir. Hardened stainless steel on the outside, brass-titanium alloy coating on the inside. A thirty-six terabyte CPU runs the security systems of the hangar and the actual casing. Only two people are cleared to open the hangar, sir. You and me. To open the hangar, you need a thumbprint and retina scan from either you or I. When the alarm is set, the floor in here is pressure sensative and is climate controlled. Any breech from the outside sets off the alarm. You are the only one cleared to open the case. You need a thumprint, retina scan, and a voice passcode just to open it."

"Excellent."

We come to a stop at the small briefcase on the floor. I bend down and put all the nesscary codes in. The briefcase pops open, revealing ten small indentation marks in the briefcase. Reaching into my pocket, I pull out a box. Opening it, I go to work. After I'm done, I stand up and look down in the case.

The ten rings sit in a perfect semi-circle in the case.

"You'll be back for them eventually. I figured I'd up the ante on you this time."

"What was that, sir?" Adams asks.

"Just thinking out loud. Talking to someone who may or may not be listening."

"Oookay."

I turn to Adams and smile. "C'mon, Waylon. Since I'm here, take me to a strip club. I want to see some naught Mormon girls in action."​

 

[Spider-Man9X17]

“What are you doin’, stud?”

“Thinking.”

“Mmmm. I like a big strong intelligent man.”

“Yep.”

Bobbi shifted closer to Clint, rubbing her hand up his chest as she nuzzled her head in his neck.

“Not now.”

“Dammit, Clint! What the hell is wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me is that I have a team to lead, I have a war to fight on two fronts, and you keep bugging me with frivolous things like this.”

Bobbi slapped Clint across the face and slid out of bed, throwing on her robe.

“I’m sorry our marriage is getting in the way of your machoness. It's been over a month Clint, and everyone else is moving on, but I'm still taking this abuse from you. I bet you Tony still knows how to treat a lady.”

“Whatever floats you boat, sweetheart.”

“Son of a…” Bobbi stormed out of the bedroom and down the hall, a string of profanities in her wake.

-

SEVERAL WEEKS AGO

The halls of the newly resurrected Asgard were alive with joyous celebration and reunion. All around, old allies and close friends greeted one another, sharing hearty laughter and shouts of happiness. The mead flowed freely and the food was plentiful. Not a soul around was without a smile and a light heart.

Except for one, a lone human among the ancient gods.

"I should kill you right now."

Hawkeye stood, arms crossed, glare cold, in a far corner of the expansive, shimmering foyer, his icy blue eyes staring daggers into the God of Mischief.

"I don't care what bulls*** excuse you used with your brother. I ain't buying any of it. You used this team and you put every single one of us in danger for your own self fulfilling needs. If you really wanted to be the hero and save Asgard, you would have at the very least spoken up. Real heroes don't go behind there friends' back and put them in mortal danger for a fleeting second of glory. The only reason I'm even entertaining the thought of still letting you pretend to be on this team is for Thor. For some reason that I doubt God himself even understands, he still believes in you with all his heart."

Hawkeye turned, not giving Loki a chance to respond, and made his way back out into the golden halls of Asgard, heading for the massive archway leading out into the bright Oklahoma sun.

There was new work to be done.

 

[Belvedere]

GIRI
Chapter I

The thick snow trudges underneath my feet. It doesn't exactly help that it's caked with blood. The scent of the cherry blossom as they float effortlessly through the sky is almost enough to take me away from here for a moment, but as they gently land on the bloody snow I'm reminded why I came here.

Kenuichio Harada is dead.

Yeah, that Kenuichio Harada - the Silver Samurai.

Got the call from Yukio a couple of hours ago. Could tell straight away something was wrong, I've never heard her so shook up before. They call her "The Wild One", she's spilled more than her fair share of blood before that's for sure, but she was on the brink of tears when she told me.

When I got here Yukio was shaking like a leaf. There was a bit of a knot in my throat when I saw him myself: half dead, he dragged himself through the snow to the foot of Mariko's grave. The two of them were never exactly close, he didn't take her death too badly either if I remember correctly - he saw it as an opportunity more than anything, Clan Yashida was finally his to do with what he wished. He soon realised the error of his ways, being the King ain't as easy as it seems. Trying to make Clan Yashida legit had claimed Mariko's life, and so too now had it claimed Kenuichio's.

Whoever punched Harada's ticket was a real pro. From the blood splatter and how clean the slices are, it's pretty clear they used a katana; that's where things start to get a little bit sticky. There ain't a swordsman on Earth that could take the Silver Samurai on one on one with a blade and live to tell the tale, not even myself. But whoever was here earlier really took Kenuichio to school, I ain't got the foggiest clue who it could have been.

"<How long until the police get here?>" I ask, for Yukio's sake as much as mine.

I could handle seeing Harada like that. He was in the business after all - he knew the risks. Over the past couple of years though he had really stepped up for Yukio, making sure Amiko stayed out of trouble and paying for her education.

For that I'll be forever grateful.

"<Half an hour, an hour maybe.>"

The clouds in the sky are thick and black, they crackle with electricity and only help to make my mood even fouler. The animal in me is baying for blood, it wants vengeance, I'm not sure how much longer I can keep it in control. One look at the picture of Mariko on her headstone calms me down, it's splattered with her half-brother's blood but even from beyond the grave one look from her could calm me more than anything ever could.

Stepping over the Silver Samurai's still warm body I lean towards the photograph of Mariko Yashida - the one true love of my life. With a longing sigh I know what has to be done, what Mariko would have wanted. With my sleeve I wipe the blood away from her picture, her loving and tender face brings a smile to mine even in the most dire of situations.

I kneel beside her fallen brother and remove his helmet - always thought the thing looked a little clunky, but it's suprisingly light. I place it on the floor as Yukio runs her hand over his face, closing his eyes as she does so; she had expressed nothing but contempt for the Samurai as long as I had known her, but her face right now speaks a thousand words.

" <We send him off with honour, Yukio... The right way, the way he would have wanted.>"

She nods solemnly.

Lightning strikes not far away and the thunder is so loud it's almost deafening, the air rumbles with the tremors of it. There is still one thing that needs to be adressed, one more thing that needs to be rectified - with Harada gone Clan Yashida is without a leader, and nearly almost as important it has no champion. I won't let all of Mariko and Harada's hard work be for nothing, I can't let their sacrifice have been for nothing. My fiance gave her life to rid her family of the Yakuza influence that had infected it for generations, she dreamt that maybe one day the Yashida family would be free of the corruption and filth that they had earnt their fortune upon.

Yeah, maybe I hated Harada's guts most of the time... Heaven knows we had more than our fair share of confrontations, but at the end of the day he was an honourable man. He was a man with principles. They're pretty hard to come across these days.

I pry open Kenuichio's right hand, which has an almost vice-like grip around the honour blade. Defiant until the very end - you've got to give it to him though, at least he was consistent. In the corner of my eye I can see Yukio's concerned look, she knows exactly what I've got in mind.

I hold the blade high above my head and study it.

Masamune, the greatest swordsmith to ever walk God's green Earth, forged this sword over 800 years ago. It was meant to symbolize all that is noble and true about Clan Yashida, there ain't ever been a more worthy wielder of this blade than Harada himself - including myself. I'm no stranger to it, Mariko gave me it after I proved myself worthy of her by defeating her father in single combat. If I remember correctly, I was quite handy with a katana back in the day.

"<Someone wanted Kenuichio out of the way, wanted the Clan for themselves. We wait until after the funeral, see who tries to claim leadership of it...>"

"<Then I murder each and every one of the bastards.>"

Figure since he looked out for Amiko whilst I was away, I owe Harada. The Japanese call it giri, it loosely translates into English as "duty" or "obligation" and say what you want about me...

I always repay my debts.

 

[Byrd Man]

The Olympic Theater
Then

"So, how'd I do, Mattie?" Dad asks as we walk out of the locker rooms. I'm eight years old and still able to see.

"You did fine, Dad. But..."

"But what?"

"But you lost..."

"That happens," he says with a shrug. "You win some, you lose some. It ain't about winning, Matt. You see me in the sixth when Romita rapped me good on the jaw?"

"Yeah."

"Felt like he hit me with a slab of concrete. But what did I do? I got back up. That's how you find out what a man is. It's not about how hard he hits, it's about how he gets up after getting hit."

"You're right, Dad. I forgot to tell you, Mister Shea came by today. He was asking about the rent."

A strange look comes on my father's face. It wasn't until years later that I realized that look was one of sadness and disappointment.

"Don't worry, Mattie. I'll take care of it."

Six months later I saw my father break a man's arm for the mob. Two minutes later, I wouldn't see another thing for the rest of my life.

******

Ryker's Island Correction Facility
Now

"Murdock!" A voice calls out from down the hall. It wakes me out of my semi-unconscious state. I've been in prison a month, and I haven't had a decent night's sleep yet. The sounds, the smells, they're all so...overwhelming. I can hear a shiv being pulled two cell blocks over, and I can smell the blood that flows afterwards.

I'm in protective custody, but that doesn't help matters. The men in here are still monsters. Even the helpless and crying man in the next cell is a child molester.

"Alright, Murdock," the guard says as his shoes stop in front of my cell. "You got court this morning. Let's go."

I'm serving as my own attorney ever since Foggy found out about my deal with Sabretooth. I suppose that was the straw that broke the camel's back. So far, I've been able to fight off the cries to move me to Gen pop. Despite the charges against me, I am still a blind man. Why am I in jail to begin with? Well, I was arrested for a laundry list of charges. But it all boils down to one thing: I'm in prison for being Daredevil.

"Murdock! Did you hear me! I said let's go. Oh, I'm sorry. Let's go, Daredevil."

"How many times do I have to tell you, CO?"

"Yeah, yeah," the guard says. "Tell it to the jury. Let's go, you got court in an hour."
​

 

[Catman_prb]

The problem with being tasked by the public to deal with law and order, is that people are idiots. They're cruel, and mean, and only ever look out for themselves. Even in Mutant Town. Especially in Mutant Town.

The shop was on fire by the time I get there. Any number of reasons that could've happened; race crime, insurance scam, negligence. But today, I decided to settle on protection racket. I'd been hearing news of a low level increase in violent robbery and the drugs trade. It seemed to me like a new gang's moved into District X. Little did I know. But I couldn't get the damn shopkeeper to tell me anything. Someone had him scared as scared as a pig in a pork factory.

"Come on Tommy, just give me a name," I said.

The shopkeeper shook his head dumbly, the spines that extended from his face swaying as he did.

"You know how far I can stretch an anonymous tip,"

"This guy they called Dayho, alright?" Tommy said, his dark green skin flushed.

"Okay, I'll look into it," I said, patting the guy on the shoulder "You did the right thing,"

Layla was sitting in the car, boots hanging out the window and bubblegum blown up in front of her face, like a big flesh coloured balloon. Her bright blue eyes watched me with amusement, mainly because she'd had a proper night's sleep, due to having the only bed in the apartment. I slept on the couch. It did my back no good.

"What we got boss?" Layla asked as I opened the car door and slipped inside.

"Guy named Dayho working for this new player in town," I said, resting my eyes for a second.

"Wake up!" Layla said, slapping me around the back of the head "Do you think it's the Brotherhood? Or Sabretooth's new empire?"

"I don't think so. Brotherhood doesn't pay attention to the real world unless they're blowing parts of it up. And Sabretooth? I still don't believe that animal's in charge of anything, and I don't know why you think he would be,"

"I know stuff, remember?"

"How could I ever forget," I sighed "But either way, the Kingpin had business in District X, so why would his successor want to change that?"

"So what do you think, oh glorious leader?"

"Me? I think it's the Mutant Mob. But you already knew that, right?"

 

[MichaelChen]

In the dark depths of a Hand monastary, the body of the Mandarin lay on a stone table surrounded by the red-clad ninjas of the Hand.


"Are you certain this is wise?" asked Tagawa, ninja of the Hand, "this creature has a reputation for being as uncontrollable as a rabid dog."

"Do you doubt the power of Hand mind-control magic?" responded Kadena, "His mind will bend to it as easily as any other. In any case, we don't have to control him, merely aim him at our enemies. His endless bloodlust will take care of the rest."

Beneath her red mask, Kadena smiled. Stealing the body of the Mandarin from Chinese authorities had been child's play. Getting her superiors to authorize his resurrection had been the hard part. The Hand prided itself on subtlety, stealth, and respect for old school Japanese manners. The Mandarin embodied everything they despised. He was a Mongol brute; loud, arrogant, and full of a macho type of "honor" that praised bloodlust as a virtue and considered subtlety to be the realm of effete weaklings.

Kadena had needed all of her not inconsiderable charm to convince them that the Mandarin's power and brilliance made him worth the efforts that would be required to tame him.

 

[Spider-Man9X17]

Broxton, Oklahoma
Several Weeks Ago

Even in the mass confusion of the situation at hand, Bucky couldn’t help but notice the latest arrival, or her choice of uniform. Modesty certainly wasn’t the word of the day.

“So this was all just an elaborate ruse?” Cap looked to Hawkeye, who was no longer standing beside him.

“Wanted to be the hero my @$$! Transgender son of a b**** is gonna get a boot up the…”

[BLACKOUT]“Clint! Don’t be rash!”[/BLACKOUT]

“Seriously?”

[BLACKOUT]“I know,”[/BLACKOUT] Carol sighed as Hawkeye disappeared through the gates of Asgard.

“So, now what?”

“Back to the jet. He’ll get tired eventually.”

Ms. Marvel turned to join the others, finding herself walking beside Captain America.

[BLACKOUT]“Steve…?”[/BLACKOUT]

Bucky chuckled.

“Not quite.”

-

Avengers Mansion
Now

Bucky settled onto the plush, overstuffed wrap around sofa in the main living room of Avengers Mansion, the first chance he had to relax since he had woken up from his Winter Soldier programming.

The last several weeks had been hectic to say the least. He went from hired ex-Soviet assassin to Capatin America Avengers, in just under 48 hours and instantly found himself in back to back fights against the very gods of mythology themselves.

Small first steps toward his own personal repentance.

The door leading into the kitchen area opened, and an attractive, well built blond entered the room, carrying a fistful of celery in one hand and a diet soda in the other.

Bucky had briefly been introduced to Carol Danvers several days ago in Oklahoma, but neither hardly had the time for proper pleasantries at the time. He had just that day found out that, under a variety of codenames, the current being Ms. Marvel, Carol had been a long time Avenger.

[BLACKOUT]"You watching anything?"[/BLACKOUT] she asked, motioning to the television.

"All yours," Bucky smiled, finding himself stealing a quick glance as she bent over to pick up the remote before settling into the recliner across the room.

Maybe this Avenger thing wouldn't be so bad after all.

 

[Spike_x1]

I couldn't bring myself to try to find Betty or understand her reasons for leaving before I could see her again. No, that last part isn't true at all. I can perfectly understand why Betty would leave and want to stay as far away from me as possible. The Hulk has made our lives a living nightmare, but I could always make the excuse that "it's not me." Of course, I know better than anyone that it's more complicated than that, and I'd be lying if I said that the guilt I felt for the Hulk's rampaging in the past didn't keep me up at night. But... Betty was always my lifeline.

"How does that make you feel, Bruce?"

"Knowing that my wife left me and couldn't even bring herself to look me in the eye?"

"Not in so many words, but yes."

"How do you think it makes me feel, Samson?"

Leonard doesn't even bother to keep notes on me anymore. I'm currently his only patient and he probably has a filing cabinet full of notes back at his apartment anyway. He's the work-at-home type of guy. The Military has surprisingly sponsored my therapy and given Len an entire facility here in the desert to devote to me. They call it Gamma Base 1. I don't even bother asking about the previous Gamma Bases that I know of. They're all probably classified and decommissioned anyway. Of course, I can leave here any time I want (it's only a short commute for guys who can jump for miles at a time like Leonard and I), and I've been given all the resources I could ever need in order to do whatever research I might feel like here, but I'm not exactly in the mood. They've also made no secret about their plans for what should happen if I get out of control during one of these sessions: Samson will kick me through a wall leading safely outside, and then Hulkbusters will swoop in to help out. Leonard assures all of us that such actions shouldn't be needed, but you can't blame them for having a fast plan of attack just in case.

Drumming my large green fingers across the armrest of my chair, I take in my surroundings in the room. Lots of books (although I'm sure that Len has them memorized), a pretty good looking computer, and a couple of pictures on his desk: one with all of the old gang together; Len, Rick, Betty, Marlo, and myself; and another picture of Geiger. What ever happened to her?

"Not that you don't have good reason, but you seem nervous, Bruce." It doesn't take the world's best psychiatrist to notice the look on my face. "Are you waiting for something?"

"Just half-expecting the General to suddenly walk in and deliver divorce papers to me."

"If he did, would you sign them?"

"...I don't know."

"Could you blame Betty if she wanted a divorce?"

"Not at all."

With that, I get up from the chair and make my way to the door, knowing that our session is almost out of time. There's nothing actually stopping us if we wanted to talk all day, but Leonard and I both like to keep it down to just a couple hours. Anything more than that starts to feel uncomfortable.

"I understand you're heading to Manhattan."

"You're sure you can't read minds, Len?"

"Just be careful. Remember what happened the last time you were there."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence."

 

[Watchman]

A S.H.I.E.L.D interrogation room

A cloud of smoke whirls around two men. One an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D, the other is the second smartest man in Latveria. During a riot in the country while a stash of crudely made explosives. The Latverians were not smart enough to make anything smarter until they found this man. He was creatng deatomizers, chemical warfare, flashing lights that would drive a person insane. He became a person of interest.

"Now explain to us, who are you are, again?" The agent put out a cigarette out in the ashtray and flipped open a folder. The man was at least thirty years the agent's senior but he only looked maybe ten years older.

"My name is Dr. Augustin...and I am an actual doctor...Dr. Augustin Sven and I am the second smartest man in all of Latveria."

"Second smartest man?" He raised his eyebrows.

"I believe that you have the first, our king, locked up in some hole that you made. It most be something wondrous to hold him. The boy could turn any prison into a castle. I expect him to do the same."

"Uh-huh," the agent said. Clearly unimpressed, "the thing that confuses me is what you. Your existence. Doom cut off most education in the sciences and mathematics to all his citizens. To put them in a perpetual state of ignorance but then there is you. Building things that makes our guys wet themselves."

"Ah, sometimes, ignorance is bliss. They may not know what what me and Victor know but they were healthy, happy, and wealthy."

"So what about you? What's your story?"

"I was Victor's mentor."

"What?"

"Yes before he left for college. I was the first one to introduce him to the arts that he would go on to master. Things that I could never even dream. Time travel, alternative universes, beautiful creations of death."

"Right...so what happening to you and Vicy. We found you in a cabin. Far away from any city."

"Sadly, me and Victor had a falling out. We grown apart in the way we think. Instead of killing me though, he exiled me from the kingdom."

"Ah, how sweet."

"Agent, I don't think you understand the gravity of your situation."

"Oh I understand that we put your tin head despot finally in prison. I also understand that he isn't going to be leaving for a long, long time." Augustin let out a robust laugh. He took off his glasses and wiped away tears.

"I might have gone a little mad during my time, Agent. Especially what I saw during my final stays with Victor...sorry...my entire life. There are dark things in this world. Things that only communicated with Victor. That is why I Victor turned his back on the simple science that I was teaching him. Negative Zones? Space Gods? That does not even cover it. There lays things between the worlds. Back when Victor was a small child. I witness one of these events."

"I don't have time for ghost stories."

"These are not ghosts. I've met ghost and things are something darker. Back when he was a child he was awoke from bed. The lights were blown out. I went to investigate until I was distracted by noises coming from Victor's room. The door was cracked open and that is where I saw the daemon. Standing in the closet. He was about ten feet tall, burnt head to toe, wore a steel mask, and green cape. He motioned at the child when got out from the bed and followed the monster. Before they left the daemon placed a finger to its lips. I was paralyzed, couldn't move until they left. The next morning Victor was fine."

"So?"

"So? SO! Your Osborn has pushed him too far. Place him in a prison like some peasant? Sullied his country? Doom will fight back with everything he has."

"He doesn't have jack****"

"Oh agent there are some things that you can't see, I can't see, but he can." He smiled.
********
Prison, Undisclosed Location.

"Prisoner #00042. Victor Von Doom, alias: Victor Von Doom. Cleared for General Population. Powers: Suit derived, deactivated, 'Magic', blocked by Dr. Stephen Strange. Opening doors"

Two armored guard, holding guns that nearly stood four feet tall, went to opposite ends and dropped key cards.The guards surrounding Doom took out what looked like handguns but they obviously shot some sort of beam. Judging by the design it was not meant to kill, merely stun. They pressed a number pad. Doom instantly memorize were their hands were going. It would be a manner of seconds before the key number.

"5284672."

"What did you say?"

"The access code."

"It doesn't matter. It changes by the hour."

"I know that. Now stop speaking to me. Your chatter fills me with disgust." The guard punched him in the gut.

"You're going to like it here, Doomsy. It's Eastern European despot hunting season. The warden, the guards, the inmates. We all want a piece and we will all take one."

The giant doors open. There are rows of prisoners of all shapes and sizes. Animals and aliens alike were all housed here. Up ahead someone called out to Doom.

"Victor Von Doom," the warden said, "this is your new home, my church, I am your god now.

 

[Watchman]

Like Lightning, Part 1: The Alien

"You know with all the billions that we pump into these places you'd think that we wouldn't have this many breakouts."

The Cube designed to create the soldiers of tomorrow. Home to hundreds of superhumans that you never heard. They round them up like cattle in here and reeducate, lobotomize, and mold them into good little boys and girls of the future. It is no surprise that a man like Henry Peter Gyrich would support a place like this. But today he is not here who can create miniature stars with his hands have his brains melted. No, today he is here to put together a team.

"That one," Gyrich said looking down at the commotion. The Spaceboy as the guards called him has created another riot.

"Herr Gyrich, I would recommend you pick another one. Der fremd is slightly..." There was an explosion, "erratic, uncontrollable, er... unmanageable."

"I can see that but I want him on my team."

"Surely, you can find another."

"No, him. I'll break him. It's one of the only joys I get now a days. Besides, Von Blitzschlag, you just want to chop him up into tiny green pieces."

"You know me too well, Gyrich," Baron Von Blitzchlag is a Nazi. You haven't heard of him according to the government. "Have you ever poked around the brain of a man who can alter reality. I turned his insides in candy. The entire prison into a fun house." The guards finally got him under restraints.

"ARGH! Whose neck to I have to snap first!?"

Noh-Varr
Multiverse Mind Terrorist
A.K.A: Marvel Boy (But don't call him that. He sent a guard's brain two minutes in the past)
Crimes: Terrorism (Broke color scale), Crimes against humanity, Instigated a revolution and tried to free your mind.
Dislikes: Skrulls, Humans, MTV

"You suit. Stop your idiotic smiling and free me before I turn you into a drooling fool."

"And how do you plan to do that?"

"I'll make you watch the creation of the universe."

"How does he do that?"

"His devices are beyond microscopic. Our gering invader seems to have a new surprise for us every day. I was thinking about being subject to it one day. A Nazi waving hi to God! Ha!"

"Shut up you cartoon fascist. Now Marvel Boy, heh, you got to have a superhero name if you're going to be on super team." Noh-Varr spat in his face.

"Cute. You're being drafted or I'll deport you into the frigging sun. Welcome to the Thunderbolts."

 

[Catman_prb]

Misery Business: Chapter 1

"This is the place," I said, pulling up at the building that my contact said Dayho is hiding out at. The poor guy was getting sick of me ringing him up at all hours of the day, but he pretty much had no choice, due to some very explicit photos of him that I claimed to have.

I got out of the beatup vauxwagon beetle, slamming the door twice to make sure the damned thing closed properly. I'd got it cheap at a police auction, because some pimp had liked it for it's nostalgic value. I very pointedly ignored the blood stains in the back seat. It was the only car I could afford to keep on the salary I earned. Which is approaching zero on the worst months.

"Stay in the car," I told Layla, attempting to adopt some kind of fatherly tone. Layla looked at me with her Layla expression.

There was a squeaking sound as the girl cranked the window down using the handle. She glared over the heated glass.

"I resent you for this," she muttered.

The apartment building was utterly derelict, boarded up with planks of wood. It was one of the buildings that had been abandoned due to the mass amounts of new non-mutants leaving District X. Dayho and his thugs had probably been squatting there for however long. I took a step back, before kicking the door off of it's rotten hinges.

The first thing that hit me was the smell. It was the smell you got when meat had been left in the fridge for too long. Decaying flesh. And then the sound of blood dripping. You wouldn't know it from a leaky tap unless a particularly vicious version of you had spent a couple of years as a hired hitman for the Russians, although thats hardly one of the lives that I'm proud of. There was blood spattered all over the wall, and a dead mook on the floor. But I knew that wouldn't be it. I took a deep breath (through my mouth) and looked around the corner. The body had the motif 'Dayho' on his neck. He looked like he had been some kind of professional boxer or something at some point, but now he was nailed to the wall in an X formation. The bastards had crucified him.

Then I heard the sirens.

 

[Harlekin]

The bad guys don’t get to win.

One of the reporters is about to speak when I hear the Mooncopter coming closer. The ladder rushes behind my back and I grab onto it, letting it lift me into the air and away from the scene.

A couple of blocks later, somewhere in the neighbourhood of Hell’s Kitchen, I jump off onto a rooftop. “Return to base,” I command the Mooncopter through the communicator in my cowl. Meanwhile, I leap over a ledge and onto the fire escape. Down in the alley the car is waiting for me. It’s a taxicab, the perfect vehicle for blending in when it comes to New York City. ‘Lockley Cabs’ is emblazoned on its yellow side.

In the cab, I use the rear-view mirror to check for any unwanted eyes. I’ve parked the car here because the buildings around it are empty, waiting to be torn down. Still, there’s the chance of a derelict – criminal or otherwise – hanging around. Once I’m sure the coast is clear, I quickly change outfits. From vigilante Moon Knight into something a businessman would wear.

The kind of clothes that would befit the independently wealthy Marc Spector. A navy blue suit, with some designer’s name written on the labels, leather shoes and cufflinks that cost me about as much as the car did.

To match, I’ve moved to a two floor penthouse in downtown Manhattan, near the Queensboro Bridge. It’s just a few blocks away from Avengers Mansion and the Baxter Building. Under the bridge, in the East River, is where I stash the Mooncopter. It dips into the water around the Brooklyn Bridge, then travels the remaining distance under water, so as to avoid anyone tailing it.

There’s an area of the apartment building’s garage that’s reserved for me. It holds all of my – five – cars. After putting the taxicab in its spot, I take the stairs to the lobby. I greet the men and women behind the reception desk with a wave, making my way to my private elevator.

I lean back against the glass wall, sighing, but also smiling to myself a little. It feels good to be out in the daylight again. I don’t get a chance to muse on the day further though, as just as the doors are about to close, a woman jumps into the elevator. Blonde, slim figure, dressed in an elegant black dress with a red vest over it. I look at her and she smiles. She has a familiar face. The elevator hasn’t moved.

“I’m afraid this is a private elevator,” I tell her.
Her smile widens. “Well, would you mind me riding along with you?”
“It only goes up to the penthouse.”
Our eyes meet, hers twinkle. We’re silent like that for a few seconds, before she notices the elevator doors are still open and we haven’t moved.
“Have a nice day,” I say as she pouts and leaves. She throws back a mischievous look as the doors close behind her. Where do I know her from?

Just as I’m about to put a name to the face, the elevator pings, signalling our arrival at the top floor. I walk through the sparsely decorated, white painted hallway to my front door. It opens into a smaller hall, with a coat rack, a phone with answering machine and two doors. One leads to a toilet, the other to the living room.

I push a button on the answering machine and continue into the living room. It’s a very open space and again, painted white. Across from me is a staircase leading up to the bedroom and bathroom. To my left side, there’s the blacktopped kitchen, with a counter to serve food and drinks. There’s a separate table for dining as well. On the other side, I have your typical set-up: two long black couches and two leisure seats, a small coffee table and a state of the art media set. Windows on both sides of the room give a beautiful view of the city.

Mr. DuChamp called, to remind you of his restaurants’ opening tomorrow evening. He wants to know if you will be bringing a guest. I have left for the day and will see you tomorrow… hopefully.

“Marc? It’s Marlene, I… never mind. Call me back.”

Frenchie poses a good question. I put away the message. There’s couple of other things on the table, some bills and some business related enquiries. They have ‘Grant Investments’ written on their stationery. I’m about to open the first bill when the phone rings. I pick up the cordless in the kitchen.

“Marlene?”

 

[Watchman]

Like Lightning, Part 2: The Gentleman

"So if you meet me, have some courtesy..." The Man in White, God knows where he got his costume back, was strolling down the hall of the Cube humming and singing to himself. He turned the corner where two guards stop talking instantly and stared at him. He politely nodded.

"Use all your well-learned politesse. Or I'll lay your soul to waste, mmm yeah." Finally one of the guards spoke up.

"Oh Jesus! It's out! Sound the alarm!"

"I have a name...."

Name: Fantomex
Devilishly Cool
A.K.A: Fantomex
Crimes: Theft, Cosmic Burglary, Time Larceny, Murder
Favorite Band: The Velvet Underground

The sounds of the alarm rang out through out the prison. Guards started to empty into the corridor, pointing their guns at Fantomex.

"Back against the wall. Hands where we can see them."

"I'm disappointed. Not nearly up to my skill level. I know you guys can do better than this. I mean your dealing with me."
*****
"What the hell is going out?" Gyrich asked. They were in a sealed room. Noh-Varr strapped to a chair with Gyrich sitting across from him looking over files.

"Don't mind that. It's just Fantomex. He's just playing a game. When he's good and ready he'll escape. Now he's just having some fun." Gyrich took off his glasses and placed his palm over his eyes.

"I swear I'm going to revoke the funding to this place and blow this place sky high."

"Gyrich, get to your point or send me back to my cell. I detest your presence."

"Get use to it, son."

"I am not your son or even part of your species."Gyrich picks up a remote and pushes a button. The room dims and holographs appear.

"The world has changed, a lot, since you've been imprison. My name is Henry Peter Gyrich and what I do next is for the future of this country and the world. Have you've ever lost control, Marvel Boy? Of course you have. Reading up on your file here your life is nothing but no control. Anyway, I have lost control. Every since they formed their little superclub. Now look at them. Flying Fascists and super powered tyrants and the top cop allowed every second of it. Their situation got better as mine got worst. They are the power now. Asgards...these "gods"...are on our land! They sit in their towers acting as judge, jury, and at some point executioner. Not on my watch, not anymore. There is a new boss in town. One who will turn a blind eye to my actions. I putting a team together, my Thunderbolts, to watch the watchmen. We will be the underground police that will bring these people to their knees. You, Marvel Boy, are going to be the first and I have your very first mission for you."

Noh-Varr spat in his face.

"Do not call me Marvel Boy." Gyrich shot up from his chair.

"You slimly alien freak..."

"Such rancor. You are a sad human, Henry Peter Gyrich. Sad, pathetic, paranoid, and jealous. You are the worst of your kind one that envies these sky people, these supermen. One who are far greater than you will ever be. When I am freed we will be at odds, their naive attitude will know doubt fuel this, but I will show them paradise. I will bring on a new age of heroism that has no place for men like you. My answer is no to you and your secret police, Henry Peter Gyrich."

"I thought you would say that." Noh-Varr felt a sting on his neck. He pulled a small metal stinger out.

"Mien hand must have slip," the Baron showed Noh-Varr his odd shaped pistol.

"What did you do to me?!" It was Noh-Varr who jumped out of his chair and was approaching the old scientist.

"Ah, ah, ah," he pressed a button on his weapon which sent a shock through out Noh-Varr's body. "I can increase the power. Let's see catatonic, brain melt, or maybe I can just burn your body from the inside out."

"Damn you...."

"So I guess you see it my way now, Marvel Boy. Now your first mission. His name is Hideo Kaboom, he's a piece of work, armed to the teeth and he may have got his hands on some of your technology. I want you to get it back for us. Consider this a test. My men will take to the drop point...oh now."

"Now, Baron, show me this Fantomex. I may have some work for him."
******

"Ah, Nurse, it is a wish come true that I get to see you again." Fantomex was strapped to a bed in the infirmary.

"What happened this time?"

"Oh shot three times. I don't see the reason they needed me to bring me here. Tell me, have you ever had dinner on the Moon?"

"Can't say that I have."

"Would you like to?"

"Tempting. Maybe when you're a free man. When is that?"

"Life."

"I'll see you in the next life then."

"I'll be waiting." The door burst open.

"Leave." The nurse left and Gyrich stared over Fantomex. "We need to talk."

 

[Spider-Man9X17]

Edit

 

[Watchman]

Like Lightning Part 3: Bad Mojo on Ninja Street

"We are the Hand!" The ninja shouted. He was clad in the usual Hand costume sans mask, multicolor streaks in his hair. This was Hideo Kaboom. Kaboom of course is not his real name but he gave up his old one up in his last life. He was now leader of his very own rogue Hand faction.

"Cut off one of heads and ten thousand grow in its place. HA!"
******
"You want me to steal back my equipment?"

"That's right."

"For you?"

"The minute you came here and declared war on Earth that equipment became mine. I let you play around with it if I'm feeling generous."
********
"The Hand....the Hand shakes, the Hand creases, the Hand loves..."
********
"You'll be provided with basic equipment to take down Kaboom and his Ninja. Our satellites show that his group is located in their club. Of course in New York City, that place is like a magnet. Once you sedated the threat my men will gather the equipment. Understood?"
********
"The Hand strikes...the Hand hits...the Hand strangles..."
*********
"Understood?!"

"I understand perfectly. I just hate communicating with you."
*********
"The Hand murders...the Hand drowns....the Hand pressed the button. Nuclear Holocaust! Ha! Wait, who the hell are you?" Standing in the middle of the room was Noh-Varr. The techno music died off. The Hand pulled up their masks, the comedy/tragic theater mask.

"Who the hell are you? Answer me, you stand before greatness."

"I stand before a great loser who believes he is a great man."

"That may be true but at least I'm not a dead man." He motioned with his hand and of his soldiers swings. Noh-Var jumps over the swing and lands a kick to the man's face breaking the man's jaw.

"To answer your question. My name is Noh-Varr, you have my things. I'm here to take them back."

"Ha! Kill him!" The Ninja leap from their chairs, swords drawn, and go after Noh-Varr.
*******
"Do you have any idea what your doing?" the Baron asked Gyrich back at the Cube.

"Perfectly, but the time I'm through the Avengers will be a fading memory. Only the Thunderbolts will remain. After they emerge from the shadows they will be the next best thing. I'm creating greatness with Noh-Varr's technology will be the elite fighting force. I'm pulling no punches and nothing will stand in my way."

 

[TrueMastermind]

"Are you sure we're ready for this?"


"Better now than never."


"I agree."


"I don't know, I mean we're inexpierenced and this guy's one of the Avengers biggest bad guys." The newly molded teen team has its doubts about their first outing; an effort to try and stop Grim Reaper from a downtown rampage. Perhaps they were in over their heads, but they wouldn't know until they tried.

"Don't give the creep too much credit. I mean look at us! We have a super-strong shape shifter, a powerful magic dude, an Iron Man clone, and a super soldier. What can go wrong?" Eli shines his shield while he tries to sway his anxious comrades to his side.

"But we haven't done anything to prove that we can even put up a fight. I'm just saying I don't like our chances..." Displaying his discomfort with a simple shake of his head, Asgardian looks to the rest of his teammates for their feedback.

"Actually, Eli does have a point. We're not your average heroes. Plus, if we beat him, everybody will loves us."

"Of course, we'll be embarrassed if this guy destroys us. I believe we have a complicated predicament..." The helmet of his advanced suit off so the others can see his face, Nathanial's feel on the situation is fluctuating. However, as the unoffical leader of this unusually formed squad, he feels a need to show some eagerness to combat the longtime villain.

"Enough with the big words, robot boy. Let's just see what we got."

"Despite your uneeded insult, I agree."

"Ah, what the hell."

"If's what you guys want then..."

"It's settled. It's clobberin' time!"

 

[Byrd Man]

Manhattan

I tear past the Empire State Building at unbelievable speeds. The computer display says that I'm going Mach 1.5. The new armor seems to be excelling in the last test trial. It's fast, agile, and is more power efficient than all my other armors put together. In addition to my repulsor rays, I have a variety of non-lethal weapons and a energy shield that protects anything in a two-mile radius.

That'll work.

"Computer, display diagnostics."

Propulsion systems 100%, Weapons systems 100%, Shields 100%
Incoming call: Edwin, Jarvis

"Jarvis. What's wrong? Is it Fing Fang Foom again?"

"No, sir, it's-"

"Well, are you stuck on the toilet without any TP?"

"Not this time. Actually, sir. You have a visitor. Doctor Banner is here to see you."

Bruce? I haven't seen him in a few months, ever since that thing with those Ifrit things.

"Alright, Jarvis. Tell Bruce to make himself at home. Also, just in case, prep one of the Hulkbusters."

It really pains me to ask Jarvis to do that, but Bruce's track record has proven he's not the most stable person in the world.

"Yes, sir."

"I'll be there in five."

Hanging up with Jarvis, I change course and kick the armor into high gear as I blast through the New York skies.
​

 

[Spider-Man9X17]

“…Director Osborn continued to put his mark on S.H.I.E.L.D. today with several key appointments, as well as the restructuring of government liaison positions, allowing closer contact and cooperation with The White House…”

“Change channel.”

The television hanging on the far wall of the hangar switched over to a nature documentary at Clint’s verbal command as he sifted through a bundle of wires underneath the Quinjet, making sure everything was tight and secure. Several other pieces sat scattered around the immediate area, awaiting final assembly.

Satisfied that the current task was finished, Clint bolted a panel into place, and slid out from underneath the nearly completed vehicle. Assembly was normally an automated process, but right now Clint needed something to keep his mind occupied, and this seemed like the most productive thing to be doing.

He took a moment and walk over to the intercom hanging in the wall beside the door.

“Jarvis, any word from Bobbi yet?”

“None I’m afraid, sir. Is there reason to be concerned about Mrs. Barton?”

“No, there was just a…misunderstanding.”

Clint released the button, wiping a bead od sweat from his brow. He hated standing around, doing nothing. He would rather bring the fight than wait for it to come find him, but his years and his experience told him that good rarely came from going out and looking for trouble.

He laid back down on the creeper, mildly calmed by the fact that trouble usually had a pretty good chance of finding him sooner than later.

 

[Byrd Man]

Respect.

It's a lot more than that fat ***** sings about in that song. Respect goes hand in hand with power and fear. You get any of the two, the third one falls right into line.

My old man used to boost cars for the Kingpin. He made a little profit, but almost all of it went upstairs to that bald bastard. He never got respect. He avoided the cops and getting whacked all those years just to get iced by cancer. Life's funny sometimes, isn't it?

If I had to sum up my whole life in a few words, I'd say that the pursuit of respect would wrap it up nicely.

I left school after I hit my biology teacher upside the head with a folding chair. I got by on B&Es for a few years until I stumbled on something strange. A cloak and a pair of boots that gave me some strange powers. I took that as a wake-up call to my true destiny. I'm going to bypass anything my old man or any other criminal did in this town.

Daredevil and Sabretooth did a number on me a few weeks back, but I'm healthy. With Daredevil in the can and Sabretooth with no competition, now is my time.

In my quest to get respect, I learned something very valuable. Respect, like fear and power, isn't given or earned.

It's taken.

Tonight, I start taking it all from Sabretooth, piece by piece and brick by brick.

 

[Optikal]

OLYMPUS
​

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

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

"Achilles. What has transpired here?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

[Electro UK]

You know there's a lot of things I can't stand in this world; waiting in line, recent Steve Martin movies, trying to squeeze the last bit of toothpaste out of the tube, and repeats any Friends episode past seires 5, but there's was one thing I never thought I'd ever get sick of; myself.

Sure, I, Deadpool am a pretty annoying guy to other people, but I just love being me. That was until I started showing up everywhere. I used to need A-lister like Spider-man to rake in sales on my book, but now those chumps are coming to me for help! It used to be I wasn't in enough books a month to cover toilet paper for a day, now I can't even poop enough to use it all up!

I always thought I'd want fame and fortune but... it just kinda sucks "Go away!"

"Please Mr. Deadpool? Please gimme your autograph!"

"Kid, I am a bad dude, alright? Maybe you want my buddy Bullseye's picture too? I can ring him up and get him down here, he'd be shoving his pen and picture down your throat before you knew it... really."

"But you have a cool costume and guns n' stuff!" oh for the-- now I get why flying is the coolest power; if some loser on the street has a nerdgasm you can just zoom away.

"It ain't gonna happen, specky. Now pack your bags and run on home, shoo fly, shoo!" the kid starts to cry and little as he turns and runs down the street, and I laugh just a little bit to myself. I guess I still get my kicks out of being a famous super villain as opposed to just a super villain.

Anyway, on with today's devious deeds: shopping.

What? I can have a day off from the ridiculous.

 

[Andy C.]

OSBORN

"Careful, boys. That one's a killer."

The Iron Patriot paced impatiently as two SHIELD operatives wheeled their prisoner into his cell, the bald man unable to move from the full-body-and-face restraints strapping him down. While many others had gone into the prison facility snarling and screaming, and others played the stoic and put on a brave face, this one bore only an air of indifference.

"We've been waiting a good while for you," the Patriot addressed his prisoner. "A thrill-killing sadist, official homicides numbering in the dozens, unofficially very likely in the hundreds. You've worked for one boss after another, whoever will pay you to do what you do best. But money isn't a motivator for you, is it?"

The armored man stepped in close to the bound criminal, LED optical sensors glaring light into the man's uncaring eyes.

"It's an excuse."

Behind the leather and metal face-mask placed over his mouth, the prisoner smiled. Were he able to move his shoulders, he would have shrugged.

"There isn't a prison in the world that isn't too good for you, Bullseye. But at least here I can keep an eye on you. Take a good look through that door while it's still open, because once it closes, you'll never see the outside world again."

The two soldiers flanking Bullseye smirked, getting grim satisfaction in knowing that they were doing their part to keep a mass-murderer at bay. However, the Iron Patriot waved them off.

"Back to your posts, gentlemen. I've got a few words for our friend here before I leave him to rot."

The soldiers nodded in acknowledgment to their Director, then stepped out of the cell.

Once they were out of earshot, the Iron Patriot opened his visor, and Norman Osborn looked at Bullseye with a smug grin.

"Quite the performance there, Norman," Bullseye said, returning the grin. "You've really got these saps fooled. Now, tell me: when are you going to let me out to have some fun?"

"Oh, I'm never letting you out, Lester," Osborn said, his smile growing wider as the grin vanished from his prisoner's face. "That whole bit about you never seeing the outside world again was no act. You're scum, a ruthless murderer....which, I'll admit, part of me admires, but you're also a liability. I can't just assume that you'll be a loyal assassin for me when there are so many more people with very deep pockets who might offer you a higher wage to betray me."

Realizing that he was going to get no help from his fellow villain, Bullseye began to struggle against his restraints.

"What?! You--you can't...you're going to need me, Osborn! Someone has to do your dirty work, and I'm the best there is!"

"The best there was, maybe. As it turns out, I have a protege of my own, one who's finally ready to act in the field....and one who, frankly, makes you look like an amateur. Your services, therefore, are no longer necessary."

The Director of SHIELD turned and began to walk out of the cell, then looked over his shoulder.

"It's going very well, by the way."

"What?"

"The last time you fought me," Osborn explained, "you once mockingly asked me, 'how's taking over the world going for you, Norman?' "

With that, Osborn closed the visor of his helmet, the Iron Patriot's optical sensors glowing a bright red.

"It's going extremely well."
​

 

[Byrd Man]

​

New York City 10th District Court


The judge bangs the gavel to call the court to order. Clearing his throat, he begins.

"Now call to order Case number 184932, State, City, and County of New York vs. Matthew Michael Murdock. Says here, Mister Murdock, that you are filing an injunction on Judge Lopez's intial ruling to deny you bail?"

The shackles on my legs clank as I rise to speak.

"Yes, Your Honor. I filed the injunction on the grounds that Judge Lopez should have recused herself from the bench. I've argued many cases before her, and she clearly had biased coming into the case."

"Okay. Also says here, you're blocking the request to be moved from Ryker's Protective Custody to General Population?"

"Yes, sir. Despite the charges against me, I am still a blind man. I have medical proof that I am blind, and as such I don't believe I'm fit for Gen Pop."

I pause slightly as I hear the doors to the court swing open. The smell of cigarettes his my nose as soon as the doors shut. Ben Urich is in the courtroom. I can feel his eyes on me as he navigatese through the gallery to find a seat.

"Uhh...as I said, I have medical proof and I'll go before another doctor to prove that I'm blind."

"Thank you, Mister Murdock. I've read your paperwork carefully, and I rule that your injunction is denied. Despite Judge Lopez failing to recuse herself, I believe her judgment to deny you bail was valid. These charges are too serious to leave you out on the streets. Furthermore, I am unable to block the federal government's request to move you to the general population section. It is out of my hands. You are an attorney, so you know the appeals process. I'm sure the New York State Appeals Court will be all ears for your requests. Now, on to the matter of Case number 184932, we'll begin the preliminary trial and jury selection next week. In the mean time, based on what I've read, I am ordering you, Mister Murdock, to see a court-appointed psychologist as you await trial."

I feel my stomach grow cold as the judge bangs the gavel. The baliffs begin to lead me away, but the smell of cigarettes gets closer.

"Matt!"

"Ben! Have you seen Foggy yet?"

"He won't return my phone calls."

"Get in touch with Becky Blake, tell her to pass a message on to Foggy. Someone in the government is railroading me. You need to find out who."

The baliffs pull me out of the courtroom and down into the jail's holding cells. A bus and ferry ride back to Ryker's awaits me. Then, it's on to Gen Pop. Daredevil's put away many of the cons inside Ryker's. Wahtever happens, I know this much: There's going to be hell to pay.​